Little Cabbage All in a Row
The Iowa landscape droned on unbroken in the bluish light of
dusk. Carly Denaif flipped on her headlights, and the beams glistened on the
moist pavement, bent on the brown stalks of corn waiting to be harvested.
Carly pressed her back against the car seat, stretching her
weary muscles. She yawned and turned up the radio, fighting to stay awake. Cool
air rushed over face as she rolled the window down an inch. Her windshield
wipers squeaked across the windshield as they swiped away beads of mist.
At the top of a rolling hill, she scanned the horizon. The
mist hovered at the tassels of the undulating corn. Engulfed in the haze, the
fields became surreal, sparkled in her headlights.
In the distance, she saw the first car she’d seen in about
an hour. The pinpoint of headlights were approaching quickly—too quickly. Carly
watched as the beams raced toward her. The large sedan swerved onto her side of
the road.
Carly let out a short squeal as she turned her wheel hard to
avoid the collision. Her car’s front tire caught the brim of the road. Her car
careened off the road, and in the wash of her headlights, she saw a third car,
off the road, its hazards blinking yellow.
The car rested on a jack and a man kneeled, changing the
tire. He leaped from the side of the car as Carly’s car plowed into his. Her
ears filled with the grinding crunch of the cars. Carly pulled hard on her
wheel again and brought her car back onto the road and slammed her brake. Her
car screeched to a halt. She let out a deep breath. In her rearview mirror she
saw the taillights of the other car vanish.
A small whimper escaped Carly’s lips as she steadied her
nerves. Did I hit him? She wondered. She knew that if she had killed
him, she would lose it. She put the car in park but left the engine running. Carly
grabbed her cell phone from the seat beside her.
Carly took small, tentative steps as she approached the other
car. The old, beat up car tilted at an obtuse angle in the road-side ditch,
like a boat snagged in a river and sinking. Carly covered her mouth as she
neared the car, seeing no sign of the man. Please be alive.
The mist gathered strength, turning to a soft, cold drizzle.
She rounded the back of the car.
“I thought I was done for,” a voice said behind her.
Carly jumped and screamed, her cell phone flinging from her
hand. She spun to face the young man she had almost hit. He gave a futile
laugh. “I mean really, I thought you had me.” He flashed a winsome smile.
“Sorry to startle you.”
Carly laughed, too, in relief. “I’m glad you’re okay.” She
looked down to the ditch. “My phone!” The phone had plopped into the slime-covered
waters.
“Think we can fish it out?” He asked.
“I hope.”
“I can’t believe that ass didn’t even stop.” He jerked his
head in the direction the other car had traveled. “What a psycho.” He kneeled alongside
the ditch. “Here goes,” he said and thrust his hand into the fetid water. He
groped blindly in the muck and pulled his hand back covered in mud. “Nothing.”
“I can’t believe that fucking creep.” Carly said, staring
down the road at the long-gone driver. She turned to the young man’s car. “I
think your car’s kinda trashed.”
“It was kinda trash before you hit it. Now it’s complete
trash.” He stood from the ditch and surveyed the damage as he shook water from
his hand. “Can you give me a ride to a phone?”
“You don’t have a phone?”
He gestured to the road. “You ran it over.”
Carly grimaced looking at the smashed bits of phone on the
asphalt. “It’s the least I can do. At least my car’s still running.”
“At least,” he replied, following her to her car.
She turned off the radio before unlocking his door. He sat
and gave a cursory look over the interior. He smiled to her again as he pulled
the door shut. He raised his muck-covered hand. “Do you have a napkin or
something?”
The Iowa landscape droned on unbroken in the bluish light of
dusk. Carly Denaif flipped on her headlights, and the beams glistened on the
moist pavement, bent on the brown stalks of corn waiting to be harvested.
Carly pressed her back against the car seat, stretching her
weary muscles. She yawned and turned up the radio, fighting to stay awake. Cool
air rushed over face as she rolled the window down an inch. Her windshield
wipers squeaked across the windshield as they swiped away beads of mist.
At the top of a rolling hill, she scanned the horizon. The
mist hovered at the tassels of the undulating corn. Engulfed in the haze, the
fields became surreal, sparkled in her headlights.
In the distance, she saw the first car she’d seen in about
an hour. The pinpoint of headlights were approaching quickly—too quickly. Carly
watched as the beams raced toward her. The large sedan swerved onto her side of
the road.
Carly let out a short squeal as she turned her wheel hard to
avoid the collision. Her car’s front tire caught the brim of the road. Her car
careened off the road, and in the wash of her headlights, she saw a third car,
off the road, its hazards blinking yellow.
The car rested on a jack and a man kneeled, changing the
tire. He leaped from the side of the car as Carly’s car plowed into his. Her
ears filled with the grinding crunch of the cars. Carly pulled hard on her
wheel again and brought her car back onto the road and slammed her brake. Her
car screeched to a halt. She let out a deep breath. In her rearview mirror she
saw the taillights of the other car vanish.
A small whimper escaped Carly’s lips as she steadied her
nerves. Did I hit him? She wondered. She knew that if she had killed
him, she would lose it. She put the car in park but left the engine running. Carly
grabbed her cell phone from the seat beside her.
Carly took small, tentative steps as she approached the other
car. The old, beat up car tilted at an obtuse angle in the road-side ditch,
like a boat snagged in a river and sinking. Carly covered her mouth as she
neared the car, seeing no sign of the man. Please be alive.
The mist gathered strength, turning to a soft, cold drizzle.
She rounded the back of the car.
“I thought I was done for,” a voice said behind her.
Carly jumped and screamed, her cell phone flinging from her
hand. She spun to face the young man she had almost hit. He gave a futile
laugh. “I mean really, I thought you had me.” He flashed a winsome smile.
“Sorry to startle you.”
Carly laughed, too, in relief. “I’m glad you’re okay.” She
looked down to the ditch. “My phone!” The phone had plopped into the slime-covered
waters.
“Think we can fish it out?” He asked.
“I hope.”
“I can’t believe that ass didn’t even stop.” He jerked his
head in the direction the other car had traveled. “What a psycho.” He kneeled alongside
the ditch. “Here goes,” he said and thrust his hand into the fetid water. He
groped blindly in the muck and pulled his hand back covered in mud. “Nothing.”
“I can’t believe that fucking creep.” Carly said, staring
down the road at the long-gone driver. She turned to the young man’s car. “I
think your car’s kinda trashed.”
“It was kinda trash before you hit it. Now it’s complete
trash.” He stood from the ditch and surveyed the damage as he shook water from
his hand. “Can you give me a ride to a phone?”
“You don’t have a phone?”
He gestured to the road. “You ran it over.”
Carly grimaced looking at the smashed bits of phone on the
asphalt. “It’s the least I can do. At least my car’s still running.”
“At least,” he replied, following her to her car.
She turned off the radio before unlocking his door. He sat
and gave a cursory look over the interior. He smiled to her again as he pulled
the door shut. He raised his muck-covered hand. “Do you have a napkin or
something?”
Similar Books
