Wreck

Piper's advice

I hadn’t looked in the back seat since mum had made herself known, but why would I have? I wasn’t going to find a signal flare, or a set of Jaws-of-life placed conveniently on the seat. As usual mum just wanted to feel superior by making me look stupid. I didn’t look back at the seat for a good hour out of petty pride. If the key to my rescue was sitting on the seat, I would rather be trapped in this car than see my mother’s smug smile and vacant eye roll. I did everything I could to avert my gaze from the back seat of the car for as long as I could manage, but eventually, as the sun was waning, and the heat of the day started to withdraw over the tree line I grimaced and slowly turned my head over my left shoulder.

I scanned the seats back and forth for a few moments, I squinted and turned my head and blinked a few times to make sure I wasn’t missing anything but there was sweet nothing other than a few rogue fragments of glass and a layer of fine dust. I spat out a swear word and mumbled some curses towards my mother as a flash of colour danced into my peripheral. And there it was, a cherry red bottle of motor oil leaning against the seat on the rear floor. I blindly shunted my right arm between the seat and the cavity where the door used to be attached and fumbled my fingers around until I felt the cold plastic, then reeled my arm back, forcing the bottle through the gap.

I remembered leaving the bottle in the back seat in case I broke down out here, but it must’ve fallen onto the floor when I played chicken with a 20 metre tree on the side of a remote highway. I stared at the bottle and tilted it around on a few different angles- it was about half full -then started to evaluate its usefulness by glancing around the cab. I looked at my left arm, at the dash board at the road, even at the brake pedal but nothing clicked. Piper shook her head and laughed at me like I was an i***t, so I looked dead into her sad brown eyes and shook the bottle back and forth. ‘Any ideas?’ I asked confidently. I was so done hiding from this woman, I wanted to prove to her that I wasn’t a creep and I only stared at her because she is beautiful, and I didn’t have the balls to ever say anything other than hello every other day. ‘Oil is an engine lubricant you idiot.’ She stated folding her arms lazily and tapping her foot on the road.

I nodded as if I understood, but I had no idea what she was talking about. ‘Right’ I said loudly. ‘So?’

I had only just realized that I now had an atrocious lisp, on account of my two front teeth sitting on the twisted dash board of my car. She exhaled loudly and rolled her eyes. The engine was in a state where it wouldn’t be recognized by the man who designed it, I had no idea where she was going with this. ‘Lubricate your arm and slide it out f**k face.’ Piper barked. I had never seen her angry before, so she must’ve been serious. A few moments later Piper had vanished, so I anchored the bottle between my legs and wretched the child-proof cap of with my right hand.

I pondered the idea of the oil getting inside the cuts up and down my left arm but decided to disregard the thought, considering I’d be lucky to be keep the arm after this. I carefully angled the bottle at my shoulder and tipped the thick golden liquid down my bicep, watching it drizzle down onto my numb appendage like a liquid snake slithering across my pale skin. I started off being very careful, but eventually I got impatient and emptied the entire vessel down my arm completely slathering it with slick liquid. The idea of stepping out of the car started to peek closer and closer into my reality.

Fearless and bold, I started to tug my left arm to the right, harder and harder. I clenched my teeth like a vice, straining my depleted jaw muscles, flexed my core and pulled like an Ox for a few seconds, shouting away the pain through my swollen and desiccated throat. I stopped for a few moments panting like Galahad the Maltese terrier then grit my teeth hard and pulled again, reeling ever so slightly when my left arm slid against the metal and shifted a few inches. I laughed, and my face stretched into a crazy smile as I pulled with every ounce of might I had left.

I stared vacantly at my released left arm as the blood slowly but surely flowed back into my capillaries and graced my nerve endings with a gentle tingle of pins and needles. I couldn’t move it at all, it just hung next to me like a slab of meet stapled to my shoulder. It was time to get out of this car. I swung my legs out of the car and tried to stand, stabilizing myself on the door frame with my right arm, but my legs buckled hopelessly the moment I put any weight on them. I tumbled to the ground slumped against the side of my Honda. It was going to take a little while before I could get my legs moving and I’d be lucky if I ever got my left arm moving again. I reached over my shoulder and toggled the little metal switch that opens the boot of the car. I tried to remember exactly what was in there, I could’ve sworn I had a bottle of Gatorade.

I dragged my battered form around the car and eventually reached the back, where the lid of the boot was popped ever so slightly open. I smacked the lid like an ape to open it and blindly felt around the cavity for anything useful. I felt the touch of cold steel and grasped my hand around the tire iron that had been in there ever since I bought the car. I inspected the rusted piece of crap then dropped it onto the road with a bell-like tone. It must’ve been at least 5 pm by now, as the sun was all but gone and the darkness had started to stake its claim between the trees and in the distance.

I fumbled around for a couple more minutes, then stopped for a moment to try and stand again. With my back pushed tightly against the car I kicked my legs out slowly to push me to my feet, most of the burden being held by my back and my right arm on the lip of the boot. I was f*****g standing! The glow of victory raced over my skin as I beamed a massive grin into the night and felt like I was finally in control of my situation. I felt like the man, the boss, the king! The feeling completely vanished as headlights peered over the horizon from a big, white, rusty Ute.