Brave

Chapter 1: The Blue Truck

"Are you ready to go home yet?" I wearily ask my best friend. What was supposed to be a short break to blow off some steam during mid-terms, has now it's turned into an all-day excursion.

"Nope!I need to do this part of the hill about 27 more times," Sam yells back as she hops onto the shiny purple sled and speeds off down the hill.

Samantha Carlisle is a perfectionist. Her face is bright red and I'm sure her cheeks will be chapped for days from the biting wind, but she won't give up. She's a glutton for punishment with that extra fair skin which accompanies her fiery red hair. But once she's on a roll, I can't stop her. I think she's determined to try this sledding hill from every possible angle and I'm kind of shocked that she hasn't measured the angle and trajectory to predict her speed and distance. She's a bit of a math nerd, and she's so bull-headed that I won't be surprised if she tries to convince her math professor that this outing should earn her some extra credit.

"Sam! My fingers are frozen!" I'm half laughing, half yelling, but nothing can tame Sam's enthusiasm. She's already out of hearing range anyway, so I just plop myself down on the snow.

"Can't get her to stop?" I hear breathless voices trudging toward me from the opposite side of the hill. I turn to find Samantha's twin brother Cameron and his girlfriend, Morgan, who both seem quite as ready to go home as I am.

"Never," I sigh.

We suddenly hear a screech and look to see Sam a few hundred yards away, upside down in a snowbank. Instead of actually being helpful and heading down to assist her, we just hold our bellies, laughing while she extricates herself from the bank and treks back toward us.

"Thanks a lot!" Sam puffs when she finally arrives at the top of the hill.

"Can we go now?"I plead. "Hot chocolate is on me."

"No! I need to see the three of you go down this side. It's the best one yet, I promise you. Besides, look!" She motions to the sky. "There's more snow coming down. It will make the sleds so much faster on top of all this packed snow and ice."

We know better than to argue with Sam. She's as persistent as they come. Cam and Morgan wedge themselves onto one sled; I sit down and stretch my legs out in front of me on the other one.

Sam stands in front of us like a starter at the beginning of a race. "On your mark, get set, go!"

We shove ourselves off and pick up speed as we careen down the shiny white surface of the snow. I grip the handles tightly and shift myself a bit so that I don't break my tailbone on the bump I see just ahead of me. I catch some air, then land on my hip and continue zooming toward the bottom of the hill. That is going to leave a huge bruise.

I catch sight of Cam and Morgan out of my peripheral vision just in time to see them wipe out near the same snowbank that had stopped Sam. I can't believe I'm still moving, but the icy sheen of the snow is generating unprecedented speed. I've never gone this fast or this far before!

Just as I'm about to drop my feet to stop the sled, I hit another huge bump that I hadn't even noticed. It's actually a bit of a dip followed by the bump that acts like a ramp and I'm airborne for a moment or two before I land hard. I'm disoriented because I'm still moving very fast. I figure out too late that I'm flying sideways toward the road that borders the sledding hill. In a moment of terror, I realize that I'm not going to stop in time to miss the blue pickup truck that's moving steadily toward me.

I hear the squeal of tires and Sam's voice shrieking, "Sarah!"

I open my eyes to see gray snow clouds hovering low to the ground. The flakes are silently drifting down, landing on my nose, my cheeks, my eyelids. I feel like I'm dreaming, but something tells me I'm not. Everything is so disjointed. And it's eerily still. My head slowly moves to one side and I see my friends all racing toward me in the snow.

It's so quiet.

I turn my head back to look at the sky. I'm vaguely aware of something in my peripheral vision. A car?

No, it's the blue pickup truck.

My body doesn't seem like it's under my control and my brain is so hazy. I can't think straight enough to figure out what is happening. I must be dreaming, but it's one of those dreams that's so convincing that you're sure it's real until you finally wake up.

I close my eyes and hope to drift back into a less distressed state of sleep.

I open my eyes again and it's no longer silent. I hear screams, shuffling, yelling, crying.

I close my eyes again. It's just a nightmare. Go back to sleep. Wake up in your own bed.

Another shout brings me back to a distorted consciousness.

"Let me through! Let me help her!"

A face appears in my vision. I don't know who it is. He's pleasant to look at, friendly. He smiles at me with his round ruddy cheeks. He has a goatee and these brilliant blue eyes. He talks to me. It sounds too real to be a dream, but it's so hazy. I really want to sleep.

"What's your name?" His voice is gentle and calm, yet firm.

"Sarah." I push out the word as I exhale.

"Hi, Sarah, my name is Ethan. I want you to listen to me carefully, okay? No falling asleep on me." He puts his hands on either side of my face; they're warm against my cheeks. "Someone is coming to help you right now.  I'm going to stay with you until they get here."

I'm so drowsy. What is he talking about? It's like my mind is mumbling as I try to sort through my thoughts.

Why do I need help? I try with everything I have and I manage to lift my head to look around briefly. Ethan is practically on top of me, but I catch sight of red.

Is that blood? Is it my blood?

Ethan tightens his grip on my head and says, "No, Sarah, just relax. It's going to be all right. You're going to be fine. But I need you to lie still, okay?"

I start to tremble and I feel like I might throw up. I feel hot tears welling up in my eyes.

Ethan asks, "How old are you, Sarah?"

"Twenty-one."

"In college?"

"Ssstate. "I start to slur my words. I find it irritating that I can't form a coherent thought or word. "I haf exams..."

"You can study in a little bit, Sarah. But let's talk for right now."

His voice is soothing. Reassuring. I want him to keep talking. But the memory of blood slogs through my brain.

I start to struggle again. Ethan tightens his grip on my head and then loosens it just in time for me to turn and vomit onto the snow. He wipes some of the puke off my face and onto the snow with his bare hands and then resumes holding my head.

I hear sirens. They're getting closer.

They're coming for me.

"Am I gonna die?" My voice is a squeaky whisper.

"No, angel, you're not going to die. You're going to the hospital and they'll take really good care of you."

I can barely whisper. "Ethan?"

"Yes?"

The words come out mashed. "Talk. Keep talking."

His tender voice lulls me to sleep.

* * * * *

Please let me know what you think.

And please be kind - when I had this story on Wattpad a jillion years ago, I asked someone to critique it and they tore it apart :(  Still, I'm open to constructive criticism as long as it's kind :)