Fallout (Crank 3)

harness, I manage to let myself down

without falling on Kyle. Now that

I’m loose, I can assess our situation.

Not good. The truck is resting on

the driver’s side, nose against a big pine.

I can’t get out that way, and to

exit the passenger door, I’d have

to push it up, over my head, which

would be hard enough without

figuring in the fact that the rollover

smashed it. Maybe the window?

As I work through the logistics,

I hear voices somewhere. “Help!”

I try again. But it becomes obvious

they’re already coming nearer. I lift

my hands so they know someone’s

here. Hang on! We’re coming.

I manage to get the window

open. Strong arms reach down

through it, lift me out. Are you okay?

says the man, who I refuse to let go

of. Just want him to hold me.

Let me cry into his chest. “Help

him,” I stutter. “Please, get him out.”

And please get him out alive.

IT IS COMPLETELY DARK

By the time I see Kyle again.

I am sitting in the warm backseat

of a highway patrol cruiser when

they carry him up over the lip of