Dead Bodies And Pink Deputies: Page 13 Of My Spiral Notebooks

“Hurry, an SUV just jumped the guardrail.”

“Yes, it went airborne. Must’ve flown twenty- or thirty-feet straight up.”

“Uh huh. Hit a tree and then fell down into the ravine.”

“Must’ve been doing ninety or better when it hit the barrier.”

“One of the men is in the top of the tree—”

“No, he’s not moving—”

“That’s right…and I can another one on the riverbank.”

“The car was packed.”

I’d say at least five people were inside.”

“Upside down, now.”

“No, no one is moving.”

“It doesn’t look good.”

“Please hurry.”

A beep, then radio noises in the background.

One-sided conversation.

Then…

“Okay, I’m sending an officer right now.”

Long, slow day.

Four hours, two tickets.

Hot sun.

Hazy.

Cloudless.

Bored.

Radio crackles.

“10-4, running radar, but I’m close. I’ll take the call.”

“Rescue is en route?”

“I’m on the way.”

Tires spin.

Gravel tossed.

Rubber grips pavement.

A squeal.

Engine roars.

Lights flickering and flashing.

Siren screaming.

Scenery a blur.

Traffic backing up.

Pass on shoulder.

People out.

Some looking, some running.

Broken guardrail.

Smashed concrete.

“Stand back!”

A peek over.

Tree top.

Broken branches.

Clothing and papers.

And a body.

“Send me some help!”

One-hundred feet below.

Crumpled metal.

Twisted steel.

And more mangled humans.

More sirens.

Climb down.

Three deputies.

Steep.

Rocky.

Snakes.

Insects.

Thick brush.

Briars and thorns.

Slip.

Slide.

Push through greenery.

Two steps forward.

One back.

Wading against the tide.

Wreckage.

Overturned.

Top flattened.

Glass broken.

One under…dead.

Two to the right…dead.

One inside…dead

Broken and motionless limbs.

All dead.

Souls departed.

The climb out.

Passing rescue workers.

Straight up.

More pushing.

More brambles.

More cuts.

More brush.

A look around.

A very close look around.

All around…

An ocean of…poison ivy.

Neck deep poison ivy.

As far as the eye could see…

POISON IVY!

Three officers.

Three highly allergic officers.

Three bottles of Calamine lotion.

Seven long days…

Itching.

Scratching.

Calamine-painted pink deputies.

From head to toe.

And everywhere in between.

Everywhere…