"My Lord, my God!" he said, running to the wreckage. "No one is moving," he said to himself. "I better see if any gasoline is leaking."
He looked around very fast, then scrambled to his truck. His hand reached for the CB microphone.
"Anybody, come in, this is Harry Rhoades on Route 909 where there has been an accident between a car and pickup truck. Please send ambulances. Come in, do you read me, anybody?" He listened for a voice over the radio. None came. He repeated his message once more. "Please send help to an accident about three miles west of the intersection of 909 and 307 on Route 909."
"10-4" came a cracking voice over the CB. This is Trooper Johnson about two miles from your location. "I'll call the ambulances and have them there in a short time. Can you tell me how badly the people are injured and how many?"
"There are three people injured, one in the truck and two in the car--a man and a woman," said Harry.
"10-4," said the trooper, "We'll be right there."
With the message relayed, Harry ran back to the tangled mess to see what he could do to help the people inside the wreckage. He reached into the pickup truck and lowered the man back onto the seat.
"Doesn't look like he’s breathing. I better feel his pulse."
"Nothing," said Harry after placing his thumb on the wrist of the driver of the truck. "Boy, he sure smells of booze." It was then Harry noticed the broken bottle of liquor on the floor of the pickup.
"This makes a lot of sense fellow," said Harry, "killing yourself and maybe two others because you had to drink while driving."
Harry ran to the automobile carrying Bob and Monica. Without hesitation, he felt Bob's pulse, then Monica's. Both of them are still alive, thank God." He looked at the blood oozing from Monica's head and tried to see the cut. He pushed back the drenched hair and found the slit, applying pressure with the fleshy palms of his right hand to the wound to stop the bleeding.
The grass blowing in the breeze, the chirping of a bird in the brush on the hillside did nothing to prompt the stillness of Harry's thoughts.