Monica: A Tragic Romance
"Watch out, Bob!" yelled Monica as she saw the red pickup truck cross the yellow line onto their side of the road.
One minute, laughter and gaiety, the next tragedy.
Monica's warning was too late even before she opened her mouth. The truck thundered into the automobile, the two vehicles locked as
though engaged in the act of love.
Pieces of headlamps flew into the Saturday morning air, the sun's rays bouncing upon them in firefly fashion. The truck's bumper fell
to the ground, mangled. Both fenders of the automobile crumpled giving the appearance of used aluminum foil. Green coolant flowed
from the radiator of the auto finding a path through the twisted metal to the road, then trickled off the asphalt to the gravel coated
Spreckles of red and green paint danced together in the air, settling within a few seconds to Mother Earth.
The windshield on the pickup truck was torn from its moorings, the driver hung over the steering wheel, his head seeping red liquid
onto the dash. In the automobile, lay two more bodies. Bob's forehead swelled above his right eye, the result of his head hitting the top
of the windshield. Monica's yellow hair was streaked with blood from her head wound. The windshield on her side was cracked in
spider web fashion. Neither of them was conscious of the sound of a rig rumbling down the road towards them.
The trucker screeched his tractor to a halt behind the automobile, switching on his turn signals as he opened the door.
"My Lord, my God!" he said, running to the wreckage. "No one is moving," he said to himself. "I better see if any gasoline is leaking."
He looked around very fast, then scrambled to his truck. His hand reached for the CB microphone.
"Anybody, come in, this is Harry Rhoades on Route 909 where there has been an accident between a car and pickup truck. Please send
ambulances. Come in, do you read me, anybody?" He listened for a voice over the radio. None came. He repeated his message once
more. "Please send help to an accident about three miles west of the intersection of 909 and 307 on Route 909."
"10-4" came a cracking voice over the CB. This is Trooper Johnson about two miles from your location. "I'll call the ambulances and
have them there in a short time. Can you tell me how badly the people are injured and how many?"
"There are three people injured, one in the truck and two in the car--a man and a woman," said Harry.
"10-4," said the trooper, "We'll be right there."
With the message relayed, Harry ran back to the tangled mess to see what he could do to help the people inside the wreckage. He
reached into the pickup truck and lowered the man back onto the seat.
"Doesn't look like he’s breathing. I better feel his pulse."
"Nothing," said Harry after placing his thumb on the wrist of the driver of the truck. "Boy, he sure smells of booze." It was then Harry
noticed the broken bottle of liquor on the floor of the pickup.
"This makes a lot of sense fellow," said Harry, "killing yourself and maybe two others because you had to drink while driving."
Harry ran to the automobile carrying Bob and Monica. Without hesitation, he felt Bob's pulse, then Monica's. Both of them are still
alive, thank God." He looked at the blood oozing from Monica's head and tried to see the cut. He pushed back the drenched hair and
found the slit, applying pressure with the fleshy palms of his right hand to the wound to stop the bleeding.
The grass blowing in the breeze, the chirping of a bird in the brush on the hillside did nothing to prompt the stillness of Harry's
"Seems like hours have passed and I've only been here a few minutes."
He slowly raised his palm from the cut, to see if the blood had coagulated.
"Looks like I can remove my hand, now. I don't think either of you are going to wake up very soon," Harry said, moving away from
the car to look down the highway.
The silence in his little world was broken by the long and short blasts from sirens. Each blare began to get louder and louder. A few
more seconds passed before he saw the noisy vehicles coming into view. The police car was leading the brigade of three, which
included two red and white ambulances.
Within seconds, the officer and paramedics lighted from their vehicles. There were two paramedics with each ambulance. One group
ran to the pickup truck while the other ran to the automobile.