Eye of the Storm (Hudson 3)

"Help, someone!" I screamed.

My thin shout was carried away in the breeze. Who would hear me anyway? Maybe the grounds people would soon arrive. but what would I do in the meantime? I thought and decided I had little choice but to follow my chair. It might take me hours and hours. but I would get to it.

I turned and pushed my limp legs toward the stairs. Then, taking a deep breath. I pushed until my rear end bounced on the next step. It nearly bounced the breath out of me. I swallowed, closed my eyes and did another step and then another until I was down the stairway. My poor rear end felt raw and quite sore. I caught my breath again and then turned around, put my hands behind me and began to drag my body toward the driveway.

Gravel and dirt soon made my palms sting with pain. I had to stop often to wipe them off and rub them against my thighs. The noon sun beat down on my face and the warn breeze I had welcomed the moment I had opened the door now seemed like the tormenting hot breath of some giant creature hovering over me. I could feel the sweat beads trickling down my temples.

After another moment's rest. I pulled myself along again. My choice of clothing this morning wasn't exactly right for this exercise. I thought. The skirt didn't do much to protect the skin on my legs, especially about the calf muscles. I couldn't feel the pain at all on my left leg, but I could see the scratch marks and the red blotches. I did feel some stinging in my right leg.

After what must have been at least an hour, if not a little more. I reached the crest of the driveway and turned to look down the small hill. There was my wheelchair on its side near the road. It would probably take me another hour to drag myself down to it. I thought. My palms had started to bleed. too. It really was painful to put the full weight of my upper body on them and push along the dirt and gravel.

How was I going to do this now? I looked back at the house. It would be horrendous to try to return. I would have to get myself up those steps. too. I started to cry. The whole world conspires against me. I thought. The ground, the air, all of it is against me. Finally, nearly exhausted. I pushed myself up on my hands and in a moment of pure anger and frustration.

I turned myself into a ball by embracing my upper body and deliberately falling forward to get enough momentum to roll.

And roll I did, but my legs swung over like dead weights, bouncing me hard on my shoulders. I hit the side of my head on a small rock once and felt the warm trickle of blood under my hair. but I kept up my turning and spinning. The blue sky and clouds seemed to spin with me. Twice I felt as if I had knocked the air out of my lungs and gasped; finally. I stopped and lay on my stomach, looking up at my chair which was now only a few feet away.

I lowered my head to my arms and rested, feeling the stings of cuts and bruises from my hips up my arms to my head and my right ear. I was sure I looked a mess. My clothes were all stained and my blouse had ripped at the right elbow. I felt a scrape there and saw the blood.

Nevertheless. I had come this far. It was no time to stop and wail about it. I pushed myself up and struggled to get to a sitting position again so I could put my arms behind me and pull myself along until I reached the chair. I was nearly to it, too. when I heard the sound of an automobile and turned my head to see it coming at me. I shouted, for fear the driver hadn't seen me when he or she had come around the turn. It came to a stop in what was surely no more than a few inches from me. The bumper was so close I would hit it if I leaned back.

I heard the door open and I looked around hopefully, but the moment I saw her shoes and thin legs. I lowered my head like a flag of defeat. My aunt stood over me, her hands on her hips.

"What do you think you're doing?" she demanded. "What sort of a crazy thing is this? Have you gone completely mad? Look at you. Look at what you've done to yourself."

Through my tears I cried. "It's all your fault. Why did you have the ramp removed? Where were my van keys? Why didn't you leave them on the kitchen table as you promised?"

"Let's get you back into the house and cleaned up," she said. "How did you do this to yourself? Did you fall out of your chair? Why didn't you wait for me to come home? What was so important about you driving around now?"

She went for the wheelchair and brought it up beside me. Then she leaned down to scoop her arms under mine.

"Leave me alone!" I cried. This is your fault."

"Stop acting like a fool and cooperate. I know you can move that right leg a bit, now help me to help you," she commanded.

I had no choice but to do what she asked and somehow, she had the strength to lift me high enough to drop me in the chair. I fell back against it, my arms so tired and weak, they dangled over the sides.

"Just relax." she said and struggled with pushing me up the driveway.

"Why did you have the ramp removed?" I asked weakly.

"We're selling the house. remember? How could I have real estate agents bring prospective buyers around with that ramp there? It would turn them off. People have to have a good feeling about a house before they'll consider buying it."

"Couldn't you wait until I left at least? How was I supposed to get down?"

"Who thought you would try to leave without someone helping you? You didn't have to go and try to leave on your own, foolish girl. You've always been so impulsive."

"What are you talking about? You hardly know me," I said shaking my head. "You shouldn't have had the ramp removed," I insisted.

I was surprised at how strong she was for someone so thin. Somehow, she managed to turn the chair around and pull it up with me in it, step by step until we were back on the portico.

"There." she said and took a deep breath. "You've nearly exhausted me with your nonsense. "Now we've got to get you inside and cleaned up. You need to put some antiseptic on those cuts and bruises. too."

She turned the chair and wheeled me back into the house. I dropped my chin to my chest. My brave and determined attempt at escape had failed, heroic as it was, and I had been only moments from getting myself back into my chair and wheeling myself onto the road. Little did I know how important and precious those final moments were to be.

I would soon learn.

She got me back into my room and started to take off my clothing immediately.