Road Trip: Part 2

The broken car lies in the ditch, sheltering the seven unfortunate victims of the crash. All are in pain, some suffering more than others. Manuel's injury could possibly threaten his life, whilst Sam receives some heartbreaking news.

Our High School is Better Than Yours! Season 1, Episode 8: "Road Trip: Part 2"
The orange sun lazily crept over the horizon and cast a dingy glow upon the overgrown field. The car lay peacefully in the ditch, a tattered heap of silvery metal and shattered glass, glinting in the sunrise. Thick trails of blood languidly swam through the blades of dying grass, their sources unknown; the crushed pop bottle lay beneath the brake pedal, finally allowing the pedal come down, but it was far too late now.

Seven unconscious bodies lay still beneath sheets of dilapidated rubble, each face a pasty white color, each flesh cold like ice, each chest struggling to rise. With each gust of wind, another layer of dust descended from the caved-in roof and settled on the figures, causing the illusion that they had been there for years, still perfectly preserved. There had never been a more peaceful tragedy scene.

Joey’s eyes fluttered open as another breeze rushed through the shattered windows; his vision blurred madly, and a shrill whistle rang in his ears, signaling he had fallen deaf. Oh my God, what the heck happened?! he thought as he scanned the surroundings. All of his friends lay motionless across the dust-caked seats, some plagued with terrifying injuries, blood blanketing their lifeless bodies. A look of pure horror invaded his face, and it was only when he forehead creased that he felt the sudden crippling pain in his head. Immediately he cried in pain and slumped down, his hands trembling, unable to cope with the horrifying image which sat before his eyes. It’s a nightmare, he told himself, determined. ''It’s just a scary nightmare. You’ll wake up any second, and you’ll be in that car, and everyone will be awake and laughing and singing along to songs, and we’ll all sleep peacefully and I’ll wake up next morning with my arm around Delilah and my... Delilah!'' He remembered his girlfriend sitting by his side, arm around his waist, head nesting on his shoulder.

He turned to where he reminisced Delilah to be sitting, and a strangled cry escaped his throat when he saw her. She lay on the revealed sheet of grass, a actively-bleeding slash deforming her beautiful face, her skin icy cold. It looked just like she was sleeping. She looks so sweet when she sleeps, Joey thought as he knelt down beside her. She doesn't scowl, her frown lines are settled...his hands cupped her face as he examined her wounds, caking his hands in crimson blood in the process. He finally resorted to clutching a shard of broken glass, slashing a piece of his shirt and bandaging his girlfriend’s head, hoping the blood flow would stem. “Guys? Anyone awake?” he stumbled round his friends, gently shaking the ones who appeared less injured, searching for any consciousness, yet everyone remained still and lifeless. Tyler sat slumped across the driver’s wheel, blood dripping from his fingers, a gaping six-inch wound mutilating his left leg. His chest was rising and falling extraordinarily slowly, but his eyes stayed shut no matter how much Joey shook and prodded him.

Finally, he gave up trying to revive his friends – he needed the professionals. The car sat on all four wheels, yet it was still incredibly unstable and would tip at the slightest pressure. Joey’s eyes scanned all possible exits – the window frames were outlines with jagged points of bloody glass, and could lacerate vulnerable flesh in an instant, so Joey tore off his jacket and cushioned the spikes.

Pain shot through his body as he yanked himself through the window. He landed on the smooth grassy bank, the feeling of the cold plants feeling relaxing against his patches of bare flesh. He could have stayed like this, cooling down in the morning breeze as his cuts scabbed over. But he knew he had to help his friends. It took effort to push himself onto his feet, but he did, and limped up the steep hill to the country lane, waiting for a car to come by. But the road stayed barren, and lacked any vehicles driving across it.

His ears pricked out at the sound of movement in the car. He swiveled round to see a figure stumbling across the grass from the behind the car, leaning on the wreck for support; it was only when he saw a flash of piercing green eyes against chalk white flesh when he realized who it was.

“Ellie!” he cried and raced towards her, fighting through the pain shooting through his leg. Her pace increased too, and they met in the middle of the field. She looked pretty much unscathed, apart from a giant purple bruise staining her forehead. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine! You aren't, your bloody head is split open! Oh, what happened? Did he hit something?” she cried, fast and hyper, panicking madly and hyperventilating.

“Calm down, calm down, I don’t know what happened!” he hissed, shaking her slightly. “Listen, is your phone working?” Ellie’s hand dipped in the shallow pocket of her torn jacket and removed a black oblong item, all broken and shattered, which once used to be her phone. “Obviously no. God, I hope mine is,” he rummaged around in his jean pockets, and pulled out a collection of object, one of them being his phone. His intact, working phone. “Okay, listen. You go and check the other guys to see if anyone else is awake, and if not, go up the road to see if any cars are coming down the road. I’ll ring nine-one-one.”

Ellie nodded briefly and raced back to the wreck, slipping through the cracks in small, swift movements. Joey’s fingers shook as he tapped in the emergency number and held the mobile to his ears.

“Nine-one-one, what is your emergency?” a woman spoke on the end of the line. “Hello? Yes, I need an ambulance, and fast. There’s been a car crash, and another girl and I are the only conscious ones!” he babbled into the phone, trying not to cry.

“Yes, sir, what is your location?”

“Err… I’m not sure, it’s just a country lane…” he thoroughly examined the road with his eyes, searching for any way to find the address, when he spotted a deep green sign in the distance. “Yes, I know. We’re on St. Woodburh Lane.”

“Ok, sir. Are there any fatalities?”

“I have no idea, I –” Just as he was about to speak, he heard Ellie shout from behind the car.

“Tell them we have a guy whose arm is caught under the tire! He’s alive and talking!” she yelled, and Joey froze, struggling to picture one of his friends trapped beneath the wreck, unable to move, unable to save themselves.

When he finally managed to regain his speech, he coughed, “We have a guy whose arm his caught under a car tire, but he’s conscious and is able to speak.”

“Okay, we’ll send the ambulances round,” the woman said calmly, then the line fell dead. Joey tossed his phone to the ground and raced over to Ellie.

Ellie knelt by the car tire, Manuel’s head in her hands, the boy’s arm covered by the rubber wheel. Blood blanketed his weak body, and the flesh on his left arm was severely lacerated and bleeding angrily. His eyes were slightly open, a string of croaks and sounds falling out of his open mouth. “Manny, are you alright?” Joey cried when he saw his friend.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m just fine,” he muttered sarcastically, and rolled his eyes in a melodramatic fashion which made Ellie silently chuckle.

“Did you call an ambulance?” enquired Ellie, diverting her eyes to Joey. “Yes, they’re sending them over as fast as they can,” he replied, and knelt down beside Manuel. “Ellie, go inside the wreck and keep trying to wake people up. I’ll stay with Manny. Go, go!”

Cough... cough... Sam awoke in a quick start. Her eyes flew open, and she was greeted by the sight of lifeless bodies strewn across the battered wreck, lying in a thick pool of blood. Pain shot through her body when she tried to move, and she immediately let out a howl of agony.

“Who was that?” a familiar voice squealed from outside the vehicle, and suddenly a small shadow was shoving itself through the shattered window. “Sam!” the same voice hissed, and Sam realized it was Ellie. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine, I –" she suddenly remembered her baby, and her bruised arms flew to her stomach. She felt peculiar, strange and different around her abdomen area – it felt as if the baby wasn't there, as if her womb was empty. Then again, she’d just been in a car crash, she was bound to feel different.

Ellie reached over and hurriedly unbuckled the seat-belt, then scooped Sam up in her arms and carried her out of the wreck before lying her down on the grassy bank. Sam flexed her limbs, wincing as she heard her bones click, gasping in pain as the muscles in her back knotted. Joey rushed to her side, scarlet blood streaming down his face and dyeing his stubble bright red, his mouth twisted with concern. “Is everyone okay?” croaked Sam, propping herself up on her elbows.

“We don’t know,” muttered Joey, and he rose to his feet and limped towards the wreck. “Ellie, we need to kick this part of the wreck open, but leave the other part intact so Manny doesn't tear his arm apart. Help me?” Ellie nodded swiftly, raised her foot, and slammed it deep into the door of the car; a colossal dent formed, and any remaining shards of glass shattered even more and fell to the field. Joey scoffed, impressed. “Not bad,” he grinned, and Ellie smiled proudly. After several kicks, the skin of the car conceded, and the other unconscious teens were revealed. Sam gasped at the mutilating injuries which defaced few of them; Delilah’s face was badly slit, and Tom’s arm rested at an awkward angle.

“Where is that bloody ambulance?!” Joey hissed as he lay next to Delilah, shaking her shoulders gently, desperately trying to wake her. Her chest rose and fell at normal pace, signaling she was very much alive, yet her body refused to awaken.

The luminous vehicles raced across the road, the neon blue lights squealing a piercing tune which ricocheted across the countryside. It drew to a halt by the destroyed fence which the car had ploughed through, and a variety of people in white outfits sped out of the huge vans, each armed with complicated-looking medical supplies and fabric stretchers and oxygen masks.

“Hey, over here!” screamed Joey, waving his arms wildly in the air and jumping on the spot, making the location of the accident very clear. As yet another ambulance turned up, the doctors slid down the hill and over to the wreck.

“Ok, how many are unconscious?” a black man with long dreadlocks approached Joey, a cluster of oxygen masks in his grip.

“Erm... three, I think. Go round the back of the wreck – there’s a guy whose arm is trapped under the front tire,” replied Joey, his heart beating like helicopter blades. The man nodded and ran to where Joey’s pointed, disappearing behind the car.

After a few minutes, the unconscious passengers were being wheeled out on stretchers, their wounds highlighted by their pale flesh, the wreck of the Jeep now abandoned. The doctors invited the conscious teenagers to ride in the ambulance with the other casualties.

Ellie knelt by Tom as the ambulance swerved round a corner, terrified by the fact that the oxygen mask strapped to his bruised face was possibly the only thing keeping him alive. He was so still, so lifeless, so emotionless – so different to the quirky boy she was so used to sneaking out of Geometry class with. Suddenly, she felt tears prick her eyes; she immediately blinked them back in horror – she never cried.

“Your boyfriend?” a soft voice asked. Ellie turned her head to see a pretty blonde woman in a nurse’s uniform approaching her, clutching a cup of hot chocolate. Ellie chuckled, and shook her head.

“No, just a friend,” she replied, and sat on the cold floor of the ambulance, leaning against the stretcher, legs crossed. “God, this is so messed up. Last night, we were all having the time of our lives: singing, sharing stories, drinking Coke and ginger lemonade in the back of that van. Then I woke up covered in blood, leaning against this guy’s shoulder, in pain. I hope no one’s dead. I hope we’re all alive and kicking.”

“I’m sure everything will be alright,” whispered the lady, placing a reassuring hand upon Ellie’s stiff shoulder.

“No...No, it won’t. I saw them people who were out cold. They looked dead. They felt dead. How do I know that they’re not dead?”

“I can assure you that every single passenger on this ambulance is breathing. They’ll start working on them when we get to the hospital. Here, have a biscuit,” the woman reached into the deep pocket of her coat and yanked out a small box full of mini chocolate biscuits. Ellie tucked into them gratefully.

The white light shone blindingly in Delilah’s vision. A shrill, steady beeping echoed far off in the distance, irritating her, yet every time she attempted to shift her aching limbs they refused, and stayed in the same straight position. A strange heaviness weighed down her eyelids, yet she powered through it.

Her eyes opened in an instant, and she was greeted by a glow of white and colored blobs floated round her. Once her eyesight cleared and the blobs formed, she realized they were actually people sitting by her bedside, and that the humans wondering round were doctors, and, most importantly, that she was lying in a hospital bed.

“Delilah!” she heard her boyfriend whisper, and she turned her head to see Joey standing by her bed, a smile on his gorgeous face. A stitched-up cut ruffled the perfectness of his forehead, and there were traces of something red in his stubble, yet she was delighted that he was there, no matter what he looked like. She gave a weak smile, and he immediately leaned forward and embraced her in a tight hug. “What… what happened?” she enquired as Joey let her go.

“I… err… we were… the road trip ended badly. Let’s leave it at that,” replied Joey, struggling to think up an answer that wouldn't scare the crap out of her.

“Is everyone else okay? Is Sam okay?” said Delilah worryingly, sitting up straight.

“Just relax. Everyone so far is alive and speaking, even Manuel, who got his arm almost torn off by a tire. Sam’s alright too, no scratches on her, the lucky girl.”

“No, you don’t understand,” whispered Delilah, and leaned in close to him. “She’s…she’s pregnant.”

“What?” hissed Joey, struggling to keep his voice down.

“Yeah, five weeks. And Tom’s the father; they slept together drunkenly at my party,” explained Delilah.

“Jeez… I’m sure she’ll be fine.”

“Yeah, I hope so.”

Manny sat in the comfy hospital bed, his arm bandaged up with sterile cotton, feeling much better than when it was trapped beneath a tire. The duvet blanketed his body, warming him up, replacing the cold outside breeze. God, the car crash was traumatic. He woke the second he flew out of the window, and landed head-first on the ground, then the car rolled onto his arm. The pain was so agonizing, he screamed until he throat was raw, yet nobody heard him. Or nobody bothered to hear him.

A young nurse slowly approached him, her deep red hair tied in two short pigtails, her nurse’s outfit skimpy and revealing, clutching a clipboard and scribbling down notes.

“Are you Manuel Gonzales?” she enquired, chewing on the end of her pencil.

“Yeah, that’s me. Am I gonna have to lose my arm?” he replied, eyes narrowing. The woman paused, still nibbling the edge of her pencil.

“No,” she said after a short silence. “No, you won’t. We can fix it, but it will take time. You happy with that?” Manny nodded – he didn’t really have a choice. “Good. You’ll be in hospital for a while – to be honest, you got lucky. If that tire had rolled any further, you’d be leaving this place as a cripple.” Manuel’s eyebrows raised.

“So, are you on duty all the time?” question Manuel, eyeing the nurse up and down. The nurse noticed, and gave a flirty smile.

“Yes, most of the time. Why? You got any…ideas?” she shuffled closer to him, licking her gloss-caked lips.

“I might have. I’m know for having ideas,” he muttered back, and she was just about to go in for the kill when another nurse, this one short and fat, waddled past and yanked her away. She blew him a kiss as she exited the room.

Sam sat in the hospital bed, her head throbbing wildly, praying for one of the nurses to come by so she could ask for some type of painkiller. Her vision constantly blurred, and the nausea built up in her throat permanently, so the constant worry about throwing up haunted her as well. She was in hell.

“Sammy!” Delilah rushed over to Sam’s bed, still in her hospital nightgown and fluffy slippers, and hurriedly embraced her in a tight hug. “Are you alright? Is the baby alright?”

“I don’t know, I think it is,” Sam replied, afraid to let her friend go unless she disappeared, and left her stuck in hell again.

“I hope it is, I –” her speech was cut off by a nurse approaching the pair. The nurse looked about forty, with short, brown hair and wrinkles and tired eyes hidden behind old, half-moon glasses; the worrying thing was the concerned look plastered on her sunken face.

“Samantha Valentine?” the nurse questioned, and Sam nodded anxiously. “And I believe you are five weeks pregnant?” Sam nodded again, unable to speak. “I have some news regarding your unborn child.”

“Okay…what news?” Sam asked, her mouth as dry as sandpaper.

“Scans revealed that the baby was a girl,” the nurse began, and Sam tried to look positive, yet one thing stuck in her mind: What do you mean ‘was’ a girl? “But, further tests revealed something else. You see, the impact of the car deformed the umbilical cord, which attaches your baby to you and feeds the baby nutrients. The baby can’t survive without nutrients.”

“What the heck does that mean?” snapped Sam, not getting extremely worried.

“The umbilical cord was deformed so much it completely stopped the flow of nutrients. Like I said, the baby cannot survive without nutrients, especially for the period of time your cord was deformed.”

“So…what’s happened?” asked Sam, though she knew what was coming.

“I’m sorry, Samantha. Your baby’s gone.”

THE END