Page 99 of Pas de Trois
“Fuck!” I pull Anya hard into my side with one arm, my other grasping the handle at the ceiling.
We hit a patch of ice after the tire blowout and we spin. My body falls against Anya’s, but I try to pull myself away with the handle, tugging her with me as the inertia threatens to throw her to the other side of the car. Her middle seat belt doesn’t have a chest strap—only fitting across her lap under her belly—and I have instant regret for telling her to sit there where I could comfort her.
“Ezra!” she screams.
The blown-out tires snag on the edge of the road and the whole goddamn world shifts. Everything happens slowly and quickly all at once, and fuck, I think this might be the end of everything.
The car tilts.
It lifts.
It rolls.
It lands upside down and slides toward the dark warrior trees. One of their massive trunks is heading right for us—I can see it through the window on the opposite side of the car…like it’s coming after Anya.
It slams into us, metal crumbling and crushing and closing in around us.
A sudden stop.
My head slams sideways against the doorframe.
And everything goes black.
I hear my name, but it’s faraway.
A frantic voice is calling to me, but I’m struggling to wake from this darkness. I blink, hoping my eyes will open. It takes a few times, but when they finally do, I’m torn from this strange, dark slumber of nothingness. The voice is still calling to me, but my ears are ringing and it’s not clear. I shake my head and though the ringing starts to fade, the movement makes me feel like I’m fucking falling.
I’m still in the car.
There was an accident.
Shit. Anya.
“Ezra! Ezra, please!” she says as I turn my head to look at her.
The world looks strange. Her hair stands up straight above her head and it takes me a minute to work out why. It’s hard to make sense of things with the way my head throbs.
“We’re…are we upside down?” I ask.
“Ezra,” she cries. “Help me. I…I think the baby’s coming…I feel like I need to push. Help me get out!”
She sounds frantic, unhinged, and desperate.
That wakes me right the fuck up.
My vision is fuzzy, but I act without thinking, ignoring how off-centered I feel. I fumble to find the latch of my belt buckle, but when my fingers find the button, I push and unhook myself without thought. I fall from my seat to the roof of the car and flinch from my landing. Thank God it didn’t crush us when it rolled—a fucking miracle. Still, the space I have to work with is tight.
I maneuver myself around and realize right away that there’s only one way out of the backseat. Anya’s side of the car is curved around the trunk of a tree. The massive base is only a foot or so away from her and the sight of it spikes my adrenaline.
I’ve gotta get her out.
We have to go out the opposite side, through the door I sat beside. The window is blown out, and I know I can squeeze her out through it if I have to, though I’m hoping to God that the door will open. But first, I have to get her down.
“I’ve got you,” I tell her, reaching up for the seat belt that comes across her lap.
I push the bright red button to unlatch it and she falls. I cradle her upper back and stretch out beneath her to guide her down, trying to ease her fall.
“Ahh,” she whimpers, “mmm. I…need to push.” I see the strain stretch her features as her body takes control of her.
