Before You Go

chapter forty-seven

Eliza

I decide to give Leon fifteen minutes. It means I won't pass him at any point during my drive back to Tenille's house. It means I can make sure he's safe. I don't know why he insisted upon riding his bike back to her house, but once Leon has his mind set on something, it's always hard to change it. Besides, he promised me he would take the road and be safe. And I trust him with all my heart. He's a good rider, too. I'm confident with his skillset. 

When the fifteen minutes are up, I start the truck and back out of the parking spot. Although it's stopped raining, the roads are still wet and a gloomy fog has once again settled over the tops of the trees. It's also gotten significantly darker and I begin to worry about Leon as I get closer and closer to the intersection. I then tell myself to calm the hell down – he's wearing the proper attire, is visible in the streetlamps, and is extremely smart. He knows how to properly ride a bike.

But even my positive pep-talk can't calm my nerves as I sit at the red light, waiting for it to turn green. I begin to chew on my thumbnail, slowly counting down the seconds that pass. And when it finally changes, I don't skip a beat; immediately, I press my foot on the gas pedal and continue my journey back to Tenille's house.

I'm going slightly over the speed limit, but when I see the signs for the upcoming hairpin turn, I slow down. Accidents happen here every year. So, I steadily press my foot against the brake and prepare myself for the road ahead. My tires skid against the wet surface, but not like they would if the wetness were replaced with black ice; I keep control and reduce my speed to something favourable. 

However, as I turn the corner, I see something no one ever wants to see. Ahead of me is a vehicle that's front has been smashed up and angled so it's blocking my side of the road. It's also compressed against the meridian. My eyes widen and I coast to a stop, pulling off to the side of the road and shifting into park. I then cut the engine and extract my phone from the console. Immediately, I call 911 and report the scene ahead of me. They tell me they'll be here as soon as possible. When that's over, I exit the truck and rush over to the car that's smashed into the meridian. I need to make sure people are okay. I have no training in medical education, but I know basic first-aid. If someone needs help, I could potentially save their life. 

What I see is terrible.

There are two people inside. The driver is a male with a buzzcut. The passenger is a brunette. Both of them are bleeding, broken glass dotting their clothing and the now-decompressed airbags. I try to open the door, but my efforts are of no use. The front of the vehicle has been so severely compressed that I know the paramedics are going to need some type of special tool to get them out. Aside from their injuries, they seem okay. Both are bleeding, but they're breathing. That's a blessing in disguise. 

When I turn around, searching the area for any sign of another vehicle, I see something that causes my heart to drop and my blood to run ice-cold.

I freeze, staring at the familiar mountain bike.