Stranded

The sky was black as pitch, the soft glow from moon overhead blotted out by a bank of dark and threatening storm clouds. The car glided over the dotted line. The truck ahead blared its warning and Felix Sinclair jolted upright, jerking the wheel and sending the car jettisoning toward a ditch.

“Shit! Shitshitshit.” Fighting the pull, Felix struggled to right the car, but succeeded only in sending it in the opposite direction, back over the center line, narrowly missing the reflective mile marker sign standing at the side of the road.

With a lurch, the vehicle threw itself over the embankment and down, down into the thicket of cattails and tall grasses. On impact, Felix’s forehead bounced off the steering wheel then snapped violently back when the airbag exploded, nearly breaking his nose in the process before sending him spiraling into oblivion.

Searing pain in his side was the first thing Felix noted when he came around. That, and the tight, swelled feeling in his teeth, as if someone had punched him in the mouth. Moaning, he tried to push away from the pillow encompassing his face. His first thought was, where was all this pain coming from? Had he gone for a drink with the guys last night and ended up in a brawl? It would certainly explain the feeling that his teeth had been smashed in with a two-by-four. Or maybe that new routine Marco had him doing at the gym was the problem. It could explain why every inch of his body screamed with every fraction of movement.

Whatever the problem, none of it explained why he felt like he was standing upright and cold in his own bed.

And why the damn pillow wouldn’t stop smothering him!

Battling it back, Felix managed to get enough distance to see past the enveloping expanse of white and take stock of his surroundings.

What the hell was he doing inside his car?

It all came back to him in an instant. The truck, the horn, careening across the road. The accident.

He had been on his way back from a writers’ convention, tired and worn from the weeklong event that had left him with terrible insomnia and dry, puffy eyes. He couldn’t sleep away from home, and so was running on less than three fitful hours a day. Coffee was the only thing that saw him through, but once confined in the warmth of his car, luxurious leather seats cradling his body lovingly, he found it a constant battle to keep his eyes open.

He did everything he could think of to stay awake: rolling down the windows to let in the blustery fall air, blasting the stereo, slapping himself in the face. None of it worked, though. His eyelids would eventually grow heavy again and he would find himself jolting back into consciousness. It was frightening, but he really thought he could make the final hour stretch, and once he hit the city lights, he would be home free, too on edge traversing the constant flow of traffic to slip into unconsciousness again.

Obviously, he had been wrong.

Not more than a few miles into the journey down the country road—a path guaranteed to chop his commute in half, according to Google Maps—he had lost the fight. Now, as he sat trapped in his car in a ditch on the side of the road, he was cursing the internet and its empty promises.

A phone. What he needed was his cell phone.

Digging sore fingers past the constricting seatbelt, Felix fumbled around for his trouser pocket for his iPhone. Parting the crease of fabric proved an ordeal, and Felix cursed some more, straining his features as he tore at the material. Finally, the familiar sleek plastic shell grazed his fingertips and he found his strength renewed.

Pulling the phone from his pocket, he held it up in front of his face…and cursed yet again. The screen was cracked down the middle, but, he thought next, that didn’t mean it was broken necessarily. Pressing buttons, he was able to call up his list of contacts, but just as soon as he hit SEND the screen went black. It was then Felix remembered that the battery had been running low during the convention and he had shut it off, because, idiot that he was, he had forgotten to bring along his charger.

Could his night possibly get any worse?

Apparently so, because when Felix lashed out at the airbag still pressing insistently against his chest, it just so happened to rock the car from its perilous position and next thing he knew, he was standing on his head, his hands pressing against the roof the only thing keeping him from twisting his neck.

Frigid water rushed in through the open window and Felix’s body took on a low-grade tremor. Blood rushed to his head, and he could hear his heartbeat in his ears.

He had to get out of here and find help.

Releasing one hand, he felt around for the buckle that held him aloft. When he encountered the small square button, he pressed in firmly and heard a satisfying click before the weight of his body crashed down on top of him. Already fatigued, his arms were too weak to hold the sudden weight, and Felix found himself in an awkwardly painful folded position, wet up to the shoulders, and trying to breathe evenly without sucking any water into his lungs.

He wasn’t sure how he managed it, but with a little wiggling and some heavy breathing, he was able to untangle his legs from beneath the dash and flip himself around. Now that the blood was returning to its natural flow, his head began to clear and he could reevaluate his surroundings.