Wasted and Wounded: A Work In Progress

Jeremiah leaned against the blazing steel of the I-5 road sign. 80 miles to Portland. Heat simmered off the highway, giving the sense that each distant vehicle was a hallucination. He removed a pack of crumpled cigarettes from his jacket. His first hit of nicotine since breakfast. He pulled out a book of matches, lit his cigarette and smiled into the breeze as it cooled his brow. A glint of light caught his eye and he turned towards the road.

His vision was filled with the red truck screaming towards him.

A whiskered face behind the wheel and the sound of cracking bones were all he registered before light faded to black.


*****

Jeremiah awoke several hours later in a hospital. The first thing he noticed was the tightness in his arms and left leg.