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| >> Static Item >> Short Story >> Family >> ID #1379433 |
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I frantically scanned the roadside as Pete crept along the shoulder. Our parents had left St. Louis, Missouri four hours before heading for Pennsylvania. Six weeks earlier we’d lost Grandma to a stroke. Recovering from pneumonia, Dad was too weak to travel; I stayed home while Mom and Pete attended the funeral. Now they had to settle her estate.
“Why don’t they answer?” I asked, flipping my phone shut in frustration. Pete kept his eyes on the road, drumming his fingers in time with the hazard lights. Our parents always called at precise intervals while on a road trip. “This is the two-hour mark, Kate,” Pete announced. “If something happened here we should find them soon.” “I see something down there!” Skid marks left the road and became ruts. Down the steep embankment I glimpsed upturned wheels. Pete parked and we scurried down through shattered glass and debris. The doors were cut from their hinges; a florescent orange sticker screamed of police presence. I noticed one tire was flat. A bright blue color caught my eye: the knitted scarf I made Dad, torn and blood soaked. “Where could they be?” I sobbed into Pete’s shoulder. He called the roadside assistance number to learn the nearest town with a hospital and emergency response equipment. “I found them,” he sighed. “They were airlifted to the trauma center in Champaign/Urbana, another hour’s drive.” As we scampered up the hillside, two doves landed on an overhanging branch. Is that good or bad? I wondered. An hour later we were in the hospital lobby. Our parents had been stabilized; both had multiple sutured wounds; Mom needed extensive surgery for her crushed ankle; Dad was semi-comatose but they expected he’d come out of it. Relieved to find them, all we could do was wait. 299 words Written for the "Daily Flash Fiction Challenge"
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