Page 117 of Until Joy

I fumbled around the destroyed cab with clumsy fingers. There. The phone had wedged itself between the seat and center console. The screen was cracked but the display looked like it was still working.

I tried to unlock it, but my fingers wouldn't cooperate. Everything felt distant, like I was operating someone else's hands through thick gloves. The numbers swam on the screen.

Blood dripped from somewhere on my scalp onto the phone's surface.

Great. Just great.

Finally, I managed to open my contacts. I hit redial and got Z.

“She’s fine. Jax is here. We’re developing a plan.”

“Joy?” I managed to croak out.

“I told you, she’s fine. Do you want to talk to her?”

“Crash,” I mumbled. “Brakes.”

“What? Buddy, I can barely hear you. What are you saying?”

“Not accident.”

The phone slipped from my nerveless fingers and clattered somewhere in the wreckage. Darkness crept in around the edges of my vision. I could hear Z's voice, distant and tinny, calling my name through the speaker.

I tried to answer, but words wouldn't come. The pain in my chest was overwhelming, making it impossible to draw a full breath. My left arm hung useless at my side. Something was wrong with my shoulder.

Then I could hear sirens in the distance, growing closer. Someone must have called 911. Good. That was good.

I closed my eyes and concentrated on breathing. Short, shallow breaths that didn't aggravate the broken ribs.

In and out. Stay conscious.

Joy.

I needed to get to Joy.

The sirens were louder now. Close enough that I could distinguish between ambulance and fire truck.

I blinked and then I saw a paramedic looking through the spider-webbed windshield at me. Had I passed out?

“Sir? Can you hear me? We're going to get you out of there.”

I tried to nod, but the movement sent lightning bolts through my skull.

“Joy,” I managed to whisper. “Danger. Must get to her.”

“Sir, you need to stay still. You've been in a serious accident.”

“Brake.” I shuddered and blinked. I opened my eyes and saw the paramedic talking to someone else. “Brake. Not accident.”

The paramedic's expression sharpened. He said something to his partner that I couldn't make out. Then he was back at the windshield.

Everything after that became a blur of activity. The Jaws of Life peeling back the truck's roof like a tin can. Careful hands stabilizing my neck. Then I was floating. There was an ambulance. God, every bump in the road sent fresh waves of agony through my chest.

I drifted in and out of consciousness, catching fragments of radio chatter. Broken ribs. Possible pneumothorax. Concussion. Dislocated shoulder.

Bright lights. I was in a hospital. I was being wheeled again and the lights got even brighter. Doctors and nurses swarmed around me, calling out medical terms I didn't understand.

“Sir, we need you to stay awake. Can you tell me your name?”