Visions
Page 107

I hit my brakes, but as soon as I did, metal crunched and the car swerved. The side air bag whacked into me as the car sheered off the road.
It went over the gully, careening down, then hitting something and flipping and—
The front air bag slammed me in the face. I didn’t pass out, but it was as if I mentally left for a few seconds, shock shutting down thought until the car stopped . . . and I was hanging upside down.
I clawed at the seat belt, desperate to get free. Then I managed to stop myself. Nothing was burning. Slow down. Assess.
It took a second for me to even remember what had been happening before the crash. All I could see were the air bags, deflating around me.
I was in Gabriel’s car.
Gabriel.
I twisted, calling his name. He was there, slumped onto the roof.
“Gabriel?”
No answer.
I reached over and nudged his shoulder. “Gabriel!”
Still nothing. That’s when I scrambled to get free again, caution be damned. I got halfway out of my belt before I found the release. I hit it and fell, knocking my head hard on the roof.
I twisted and writhed, hearing my shirt rip as it caught. My skin ripped, too, warm blood welling up on my arm. I ignored it and got myself right side up, crouched there between the seat and the roof.
I could reach Gabriel, but he was doubled forward. I couldn’t see his face. I couldn’t get to his neck or wrist to check for a pulse. The solid wall of his shirt blocked me.
I backed out through the driver’s window. It was shattered, the remaining safety glass crumbling when I went through. As I pushed myself out, I could see the driver’s door was bashed in. We’d been hit. That’s why the side air bag deployed. Someone had hit us. Pushed the car over the embankment.
I craned to look up the gully. It was only about a thirty-foot drop but nearly perpendicular. The top was clear. No sign of another vehicle. No sign of a passerby who’d witnessed the accident. There’d been no one else on the damned road. So where had the other car been—? A billboard. There were several along this stretch.
Had someone been lying in wait?
Was I really trying to figure that out while Gabriel lay in a car wreck?
His window had smashed, too, on the roll down the gully. I swiped out the remaining glass and shoved my head and shoulders through. Gabriel’s head hung down, but I could see his face from this angle. There was a moment there when I don’t think he was breathing. Then it came, that faint rasp, and when I pressed my hand to his neck, his pulse was strong.
He’d laid his jacket in the back before we set off, and there were only a few drops of blood on his white shirt. I searched for the source. A wound on his head.
As much as I wanted to get him out of there, I knew better than to move him, in case there was spinal damage. It seemed as if he was only hunched awkwardly—his height not accommodating the crushed roof—but I wasn’t taking any chances. I backed out. That’s when I saw the smoke.
The engine was on fire, wisps of smoke snaking from under the hood. There are a half-dozen flammable things in an engine. While they’re well contained, they aren’t meant to withstand a serious crash and a rollover landing. And the barrier between the engine and the passengers isn’t good enough to hold off fire for long.
I ran to the front of the car and peered under the crumpled hood, praying I wouldn’t see—
Flame. I saw flame.
I tore back to the passenger side, squeezed in, and undid Gabriel’s seat belt. It wasn’t jammed. Gabriel was, though—wedged in tight enough that he didn’t even budge when the belt came loose. As I tugged at him, he groaned.
“Gabriel?” I said. “Gabriel!”
I shook him, but he slid out of consciousness again without even opening his eyes.
I could smell the smoke now and hear the whoosh of fire. No time to second-guess. I grabbed his shirt by one shoulder and heaved, my other hand bracing his head. I had to brace my legs, too, against the car, using every bit of leverage I could, until—
His head and shoulders swung free and he fell, nearly knocking me down with the dead-weight drop. I dragged him out of the car. Smoke billowed, making me cough, my eyes tearing up. I had Gabriel out on his back, my hands wrapped in his shirt, and thank God it was well made, because I’m sure I wouldn’t have gotten him very far otherwise. As it was, the seams still ripped while I dragged him over the rocky ground.
Once he was out of the smoke, I went for my cell phone . . . and remembered it was in my purse. I dropped down beside Gabriel and patted his trouser pockets. No phone. It must be in his jacket.
I raced back to the car. Flames poured from the engine, but they hadn’t yet broken through to the interior. I fell onto all fours and pushed in through the passenger window. The interior was filled with smoke, and I had to close my eyes, pull my shirt over my nose, and feel around blindly. I couldn’t find my purse. I didn’t try hard because I knew Gabriel’s jacket was in the back. I located it after fumbling and groping. I backed out of the car, sputtering now, eyes streaming tears as I returned to Gabriel’s side, where the air was clear, reached into his jacket and—
There was no goddamned cell phone.
I crouched on the ground, heaving breath, my lungs burning.
Get Gabriel somewhere safe and go for help. There was no other option. The car was on fire. I’d never find my phone in time.
I looked around for a place to drag Gabriel. The car had landed at the base of the cliff, twenty feet from the river. That limited my choices.
I grabbed Gabriel’s shirt again and hauled him another ten feet before the fabric gave way. I tried putting my hands under his armpits, but I couldn’t get any leverage. He was too big.
I looked back at the car. Fire still burned in the engine compartment. How much longer until it reached the gas tank? Even if it did, Gabriel was far enough away.
I tried rousing him again, but after dragging him twenty feet from a burning car, I had to acknowledge that he wasn’t waking up. I hoped he was just out cold. Otherwise . . . I wasn’t even thinking of “otherwise.” I already knew the damage I could have caused, hauling him from that car.
I made sure he seemed okay, then started climbing the embankment.
CHAPTER SIXTY-EIGHT
I got about halfway up the cliff, grabbing whatever I could and hauling myself up the nearly perpendicular incline. Then there was nothing else to grab, and I scrabbled for a handhold, my fingers digging into dirt, nails breaking as I frantically pulled myself—