Page 134 of Lone Star Longing
“How long do you think that will be?”
“I just can’t say. I’ll call them and see if they have anyone they can spare and send them to you.”
“I’m not going to wait. Can you call Austin? Dr. Driscoll? Have him meet me?” She disconnected, and thought about calling Mrs. Conover, but she decided to wait until she knew what was happening. She tossed her phone back on the drivers’ seat, aware she wouldn't hear any return calls, but she didn't have a pocket in her yoga pants, and she needed to see how Beck was.
Damn, this truck was big, she thought when she reached the ditch. Maybe she could climb up on the undercarriage and look into the window, maybe get the door open?
She couldn't imagine how he was positioned in there. Was he hanging by his seatbelt? The idea gave her some urgency, and she was glad she’d worn her sneakers. In the blinking lights of her car’s hazards, she started to climb. But she slipped a couple of times, banging her shin against the underside of the truck as she lost her footing, gripping the runner of the truck to hold herself up. She didn't even have the breath to call for him, didn't have the upper body strength to pull herself up on the side of the truck.
The bottom of the truck was still warm, but not hot. Cooled by the rain, possibly. But he hadn’t been like this long.
And then she was stretched out on the drivers side door, wiping rain from the window so she could look inside.
God. Was he moving? She couldn't tell. She pounded on the glass, and thought she saw his head move on the airbag, but it was so hard to tell, since it was getting darker, and the water on the windshield distorted everything.
She slithered onto the rear of the cab, and using the last of her strength, opened the truck door, flinging it up, holding her hand up in case gravity brought it back down. Once she was sure it was stable, she reached in and touched his face. Warm. Sticky. Shit.
“Beck! Beck!”
“Lace? Geez.” He tried to lift his head from the airbag and she gripped his shirt.
“No, don’t. The truck is on its side. Beck. What’s hurt?”
“Everything. Man, everything.”
“Anything broken?”
“I don’t—I can’t feel anything.”
How long had he been constrained? Please, God, let that be the only reason he couldn't feel anything. Why hadn’t anyone come by now?
“Just—just hang on. I called the sheriff and they called Austin. They should all be here soon. Beck, God.”
“What are you...?” He tried to turn his head to look at her. “Am I sideways?”
“Yes, the truck’s on its side.”
“Where are you?”
“I’m.” She pushed her wet hair out of her face, aware the rain was pouring in on him now, too. “I’m on the back door.”
“How did you get there?”
“We’ll talk about it later.” Right now she was trying to figure out how she was going to get down, and seriously, how did she get up here?
“Lace. You’re soaked. You’re going to get—God, Lace.”
“Sh. Sh. We’ll talk later, as soon as we get you out of here. But for now, I’m just going to wait here with you. I wish I knew how to get you out of there, but I have to wait for help.”
“I’ll be okay. You go wait in your car. Your car is here?”
“I’ll wait here.” She didn't want to tell him she was scared to get down. But the rain was cold, as was the truck beneath her. “Here comes someone. There’s lights coming. Someone’s coming.” Finally. Help.
Austin was the first to arrive, then Javi. First they helped Lacey down from the top of the truck, and she went to her car to call Mrs. Conover first, then her own mother, as Austin and Javi worked together to get Beck out of the truck without causing further injury. Once he was out of the truck, she disconnected the phone and hurried over to his side.
He looked terrible, blood matting his hair, his arm hanging at an odd angle.
“What do you think, Austin?”
