When she reached the red Honda, she heard a soft cry but couldn’t distinguish exactly where it had come from. The bumper of the Honda was bashed in, and a man sat in the driver’s seat. He was slumped over, blood pouring from a wound somewhere on his face. She slid her hand through the broken driver’s side window, immediately catching the scent of booze wafting off him. A drunk driver, she thought to herself as she pressed her fingers against his pulse point. The man moaned.
“Sir.” She squeezed his shoulder. When that didn’t work, she dug her fingers into his arm. “Sir. Wake up.”
He moaned again and mumbled something incoherent. She’d seen the same reaction many times from people who were drunk and disorderly. He looked about three-times over the limit, and he didn’t seem injured past the cut on his head.
“The paramedics are a minute behind me. Stay inside your vehicle,” she told him, not wanting to move him in case she was wrong about him being completely shitfaced and he had neck injuries.
Besides, there were others that needed her. She had to keep going. And his car wasn’t about to go up in flames.
While she hoped that her backup and the ambulance got there soon, she forced her feet to move forward, even though she felt sick with guilt at leaving an injured man behind. The crowd behind her grew restless, and she could hear them talking amongst themselves as she closed in on the second car. The soft cry came again, but she still couldn’t make out where the sound was coming from or if the person was male or female. Regardless that she wanted to find the person belonging to that cry echoing in misery, she couldn’t allow her mind to stray. She kept her thoughts centered on her job.
When she reached the black Jeep, she noted that the front had been smashed in quite a bit, but she couldn’t see any other damage or smell any hints of fire or gasoline. She reached the driver’s side window. It must’ve been open at the time of the accident because she didn’t find any broken glass. She peered inside, finding two young women in the car, maybe eighteen at most. “Are you both all right?” She couldn’t see any visible wounds on either of them, but the airbags were deployed, and both girls looked shaken.
“Yeah, yeah, we’re okay,” the driver said, sudden tears welling in her eyes.
“Can you move?” Joss asked.
“I think so,” the passenger said, her chin trembling.
Joss unlocked the driver’s side door and then opened it, holding onto the young woman’s arm as she exited. “Go sit by the tree over there.” She pointed at the old gas station. “The ambulance will be here shortly.” She held onto the driver a little bit longer until she felt stable on her feet.
As the driver moved to safety, Joss quickly helped the passenger across the street before moving on to the last car at the scene. Her chest clenched as she prepared herself for what she’d find. The last car was in the worst shape. Beaten up from the front and the back and the right side, Joss couldn’t even tell what kind of car it was, only that it was navy blue.
The driver’s door was open, but both airbags had been deployed. She leaned into the car, finding the windshield smashed in, and she imagined that meant that somewhere out in front of the car lay a body. Her throat tightened as the soft cry came again, and this time, she knew it had come from someone who’d been in this car. She drew in a deep breath, preparing herself to find death greeting her, but that’s not what she found.
A man sat up with his back to her.
“Sir,” she said, slowly moving toward him. “Sir. Police. Are you all right?” Upon further inspection, she noticed that he was holding onto someone, and that someone had blood covering her from head-to-toe. Obviously, she’d been the one who had gone through the windshield. “Sir. Police.”
“My wife,” the man said, his voice soft and distant. “She took her seatbelt off to reach for her bracelet on the floor. It was only for a second. She only took it off for a second…”
“Sir,” Joss said again, placing her hand on his shoulder, and he turned his head, meeting her gaze.
In that moment, all her training failed her. Nothing could have prepared her for dealing with someone else’s emotions when the pain was this raw, this real, this soon. She fought tears, her lungs fighting for air. “Sir,” she managed. “Please let me see if I can help her.”
He shook his head, tears spilling from his eyes. “There’s nothing you can do for my Rosie. She’s gone.”
Joss swallowed emotion and went to her knees next to him, reaching for the woman wearing the pretty, flowered dress covered by splatters of red.