Sorry

Holly was frantic. She had spent the last twenty-four hours calling everyone she and Steve knew trying to locate him. Parents, friends, co-workers, no one had heard anything from him. Her calls and texts to his cell phone had all gone unanswered, and although she knew he had been mad, no one gets that mad for this long over a pair of eighty dollar boots. Something was definitely wrong.

The desk sergeant at the local police precinct wasn't much help at first. When he heard her story he told Holly it sounded more like a lover's squabble than anything else. He informed her that her husband was probably on his way back home this very moment. "How in the hell could he know that? What bullshit." Holly thought to herself. The police officer further let her know in order to file a missing persons report it had to be after someone was missing for forty-eight hours.

"Well, it's been over forty eight hours, and if you don't help me, I'll just sit on that bench and wait for your supervisor to get back from lunch. Maybe he'll take me more seriously." The look she gave him was a combination of anger, frustration, and a deep-seated determination that wasn't going to go away.

"Kenny," the sergeant yelled to a guy in a sports shirt sitting at a desk not more than twenty feet away. "I need you to take this lady's statement, and help her any way you can." Holly's eyes thanked him as Detective Kenny Peterson took her back to his desk.

Holly spent the next hour going over every detail of Steve's disappearance. She had the make of his car, license plate number, a recent picture of Steve he could keep, and his cell phone number.

"Office Maguire's probably right. I can't imagine your husband staying away this long over what you told me. He's probably just letting you stew a bit, knowing that when he does come home you'll be so happy to see him you'll forget all about what the two of you were arguing about."

"I'd buy that if it weren't for the fact that he doesn't have his wallet and no one we know has either seen or heard from him. Officer Peterson," Holly had read his full name off the nameplate on his desk, "Steve hasn't missed a day of work in three years and when he did, he was almost on his deathbed. Even then he called into work. He didn't call in Wednesday or Thursday, and they too are concerned about him. It's not like him."

"He has his cell phone with him, right?" Holly nodded yes. "Unless he was so pissed off at you that he turned it off, we can triangulate through the local cell towers and get his approximate location."

"You can do that?"

"Not me, but your cell phone provider can."

For the first time that day Holly felt hopeful.

I didn't have a knife with me or anything else that could cut through the seat belt. Even if I did, I don't think I had the strength to hold the knife or the energy to use it. All I had to do was reach around and push down on the seat belt release. Sounds so simple, but there were two huge problems, neither of which would make it an easy task.

First of all, my right arm was busted up and basically useless, so I would have to make use of my left hand to accomplish it. At least I'd find out shortly if it was dislocated or actually broken.

Second, my left arm had been numb for the last twenty-four hours. When I started moving it across the front of my body it came back alive sending a jolt of pain down the whole arm, letting me know it hadn't healed itself yet. With it pressed tightly against my body I slowly inched it across my chest, trying to use only the lower portion of my arm, keeping my shoulder as motionless as possible. I still didn't know if it was broken, but the pain shooting down my arm made me have to stop and rest every couple of seconds. I have to do this I kept telling myself, or one of these days they'll find me dead in this wreck. I cried, cursing myself and everyone else I could think of. I'd never been in this much pain—I had no choice anymore—I had to succeed.

I was about halfway there when I got a stupid idea. I decided to grab my jacket sleeve with my teeth and pull it to the right. It was already getting dark and I sure as hell didn't want to spend another night as some bug's dinner.

I know someone had to have heard that scream or the sobbing that followed. My teeth released the jacket sleeve, my arm dropped onto my lap, and I sat there quivering, waiting for the pain to stop, almost afraid to even breathe. My arm hung there. Tears dripped down my cheeks. I didn't have anything left. I couldn't take any more pain. I think I had finally reached my limit.

No water, no sleep, no food, and now I realized I had no usable arms to get me out of this. My legs were starting to cramp up no matter what I did, and for the first time I thought about the 'what if,' and that wasn't an option I wanted to think about.

Holly was the one who initiated the call to Verizon Wireless. When Detective Peterson realized they were starting to give her a hard time he quickly took over.

"Miss, this is Police Detective Ken Peterson. We are trying to locate a missing person and need your assistance. Is there going to be a problem?" Ken was switched to the supervisor on duty.

While Ken was giving and getting details from the supervisor, Holly though how wonderful computers are. How anything got done without them she didn't have a clue, just so they could find Steve. She silently prayed that Steve's cell phone was on and was still charged up. His account showed no activity for the last couple of days, so it didn't take more than ten to fifteen minutes to get everything they needed.

When the detective got Steve's approximate location he pulled out a city street map.

"There's really nothing there," he said, scratching his head. "David," he called out to another police officer two desks over, "You got your iPad with you today?" he asked.

David smiled. "My wife wanted it, but I told her I needed it today. All she ever uses it for is playing games and reading her e-books."

"Like you use it for important police business?" They both laughed. "Bring up Google Earth on it for me, will you?" Kenny gave David the coordinates that Verizon had given to him. It took a minute or two to zoom way in.

The location given showed no houses, restaurants, or even a street sign. It was a strip of land between Lake Grover and Lake Harmony.

"Maybe he lost his phone," Kenny said out loud.

"Or, maybe he's doing some night fishing," David added.

"Steve doesn't fish. This place is only a couple of miles from where we live. I wonder if his phone is moving. Maybe he's on his way home." Holly was now getting excited. Kenny made a quick call back to Verizon to confirm Steve's location again.

"Nope, it's still in the same place, it hasn't moved."

"Well, I'm heading over there," Holly said, standing up and grabbing for her jacket.

"I'm coming with you," Kenny quickly responded, reaching into his bottom desk drawer pulling out a two foot long Mag Light. "It's going to be pretty dark out there. We'll need a couple of these to really see anything."

Kenny wasn't feeling too good about what they might find. He knew the general area, and besides a few cabins there wasn't much out that way. The road was narrow and the ditches deep, especially down by the bridge. He wanted to make sure if they found something ugly Holly wouldn't be alone.

"Last chance," I thought to myself, coming up with my second and probably final plan. Even though the seatbelt release was just under my right arm, my damaged fingers never would have been able to push it down far enough to open it. Maybe, just maybe, I could use my elbow to push down on the release button. It was worth a try even though that wouldn't completely solve all my problems. I would still have to find a way to crawl out; at least I would be free and could get something to drink.

I took a deep breath and started pumping my legs to get the blood flowing. "It's now or never," I whispered out loud, psyching myself up for the task at hand. With both of my feet planted, I pushed with all my strength, driving my upper body deeper into the seat, giving the shoulder harness just enough slack to pull my right arm out from under it.

Ignoring the screaming pain shooting down my arm and supporting my right arm with my left, I slowly inched it lower. Pain, that's all I felt, but I kept moving. There was no way in hell I was going to end up dying for those damn eighty dollar boots. I was getting my ass out of here.

Sitting upright in my seat, my upper right arm wasn't long enough. I was going to have to somehow move my upper body out of the strap and push it as far to the right as I could.

Timewise how long it took me I haven't a clue. I think I lost a couple of pounds of sweat in the process, and not because of the heat. Pushing and pulling, I managed to move the shoulder strap just past the center of my chest, just enough so I could move almost freely. The bugs were back—I did my best to ignore them.

I started to slowly inch down until I felt the lap belt and shoulder harness connection with my right elbow. Thank God, my car was an older model and the release button was an outtie instead of an innie. Tears were streaming down my cheeks as my elbow came in contact with that fucking red button. I had to stop, take a short break, let the pain subside a little, and get myself mentally ready.

It was all or nothing. There were no options left. I would have to use my left arm to support the lower part of my right arm while using my full upper body strength to push my right elbow into that release button. I tried to think about how much force it normally took to open it, but even with all my weight resting on it, I knew it wouldn't be easy.

I thought about counting to three but said, "Fuck it," and gave it everything I had in me.

It opened! Holy fuck! It opened.

And, if I thought I was in pain before, what I was in now can only be described as sheer hell.

But when I heard the sweet click of the seat belt release I rejoiced through the pain. I smiled, feeling the seat belt and shoulder harness loosen around my body. What I hadn't taken into account was what was going to happen when the full weight of my body was released. My knee and foot, which I had been using to brace myself, slipped off the dashboard and the sterling wheel. I fell head first into the water on the other side of the car.

Your first instinct, when you're falling, is to put your arms out to break your fall. I started to do just that, but thankfully my brain kicked in and stopped me at the last second. Even though I tried to pull my arms in tight to my chest, the full weight of my upper body came crashing down on them.

For the third or fourth time since this ordeal began I passed out. Thankfully, I was lucky enough to do it with my head above the rank water sitting on the bottom of the car, or I probably would have drowned.

I don't know if I screamed, cried out, or just wept before passing out. Anyway, it didn't make much difference because no one heard me. At least for a little while I got to feel nothing—until I woke up. I was free but the drop had done even more damage, if that was possible. My right arm was at an angle it shouldn't have been, and the heat it was giving off told me I was bleeding again. I just couldn't fucking win.

I was in a weird position with my feet above my body. I needed to somehow get them under me, but first I needed some liquid.

Thank God, it was dark so I couldn't see what I was about to do. I closed my eyes and lowered my face into the still pool of cool water. Parched, I stuck my tongue in first getting it wet. No cold beer ever tasted this good. I fought the urge to gulp and just lapped at it until my mouth started to recover some of its feeling.

It didn't matter that my first swallow burned my throat, the only thing I thankfully tasted was cool liquid. Three more mouthfuls and I started to feel almost human again. Life may not have been good yet, but I was still alive.

It took everything I had left in me to achieve my final task. I gritted my teeth and rolled my upper body to the left. I think I was finally getting numb to the pain because though it still hurt, especially my left shoulder, I was able to roll onto my back without passing out from the pain.

Detective Peterson and Holly were making their way up the road, looking on the iPad at where Steve's cell phone should be.

"He wouldn't have gotten mad and tossed it out the window, would he?" Kenny asked, hoping against hope that wasn't the case.

"Steve waited years to get that iPhone. He'd throw me out the window before he'd toss out his precious phone, especially since he didn't buy the insurance policy on it. How much further?"

"Only about two more miles," Kenny said, looking at the iPad Holly had resting on her lap.

It was dark with only a sliver of the moon visible. "This isn't going to be easy," Kenny thought to himself, looking out the car window.

When they got within a half-mile of the bridge Kenny started to slow down. There was no traffic, and it was black out even with his high beams on. At about a quarter of a mile from the bridge he stopped.

"You drive and I'll walk in front of the car to see if I can see anything. Go slow, keep the high beams on, even if another car comes down the road."

Step by step Kenny walked on the right side of the road shining his flashlight onto the road and down into the ditch. They were almost to the bridge when he stopped and knelt down—broken glass, rust, and bits of paint.

"What color is Steve's car?" he yelled back to Holly.

"Dark blue, why? Did you find something?"

Holly immediately stopped the car, got out, and ran up to where the detective was kneeling.

"Something happened here. Looks like a broken headlight and maybe some paint from a car." He picked up the white and dark blue paint chips, examining them. He shined the light into the ditch.

"Steve! Steve, can you hear me?" Holly yelled out twice, but got no response.

"Maybe he's hurt and can't answer."

Kenny went to the edge of the road and shined the light into the ditch, then started moving the beam of light further out.

The underbrush was tall and rugged. Kenny couldn't make out any details much less a car. He walked a little further up towards the bridge all the time shining the light past the ditch looking for anything that seemed out of place.

"We're going to need help and a lot more light than what I've got here," he said, looking at his watch. He pulled out his cell phone.

It was dead quiet except for the sounds of the night. He punched in a number and listened. Holly started to ask what he was doing, Kenny told her to be quiet and listen. They both moved to the edge of the road as he hit redial. Kenny's hearing wasn't as good as it once was, but Holly was sure she heard something!

"I heard something. Steve, Steve, can you hear me?" Holly yelled again.

"Holly, be quiet," he said, handing her his phone. "Hit redial when I tell you, and stay off the road, we don't need another accident."

The ditch was about five feet deep and almost eight feet wide. Beyond that the land sloped down rapidly, probably all the way down to the creek. If he was down there, it wouldn't be good.

Kenny waded through the knee-deep water and muck. Making his way across to the other side of the ditch he kicked up a million bugs in his wake. When he started walking down the ravine he yelled back up to Holly, "Hit redial." He stood there motionless, not even breathing. At first all he heard was his heart beating. Then he heard it—it was faint and further over towards the bridge—then he saw it.

It was a path of broken brush leading down towards the creek.

"Did you find anything?" Holly yelled down to him. He didn't answer her. "Detective, did you find him?" Kenny was listening as hard as he could.

"Just keep hitting redial until I tell you to stop," he yelled back.

He followed the sound continuing his walk down the path of destruction shaking his head. Broken brush, a busted window, finally Kenny stopped and shined the light down the path. "Shit!"

Moving faster he made it down to the shoreline. It was dark and quiet. He made his way to the front of the car anxiously trying to see through the windshield, but couldn't because of the fractured glass. Climbing up on the car he shined the light through the missing driver's window. He saw a crumpled body on the other side with two eyes staring up at him. There was no movement.

"Damn, the bastard didn't make it," Kenny said out loud to himself in disgust. Then Steve blinked.

Kenny kept yelling, "Call 911, call 911!" all the way back up the hill. "Call 911! Tell them you need a rescue squad and an ambulance!"

Holly was crying and screaming something. When Kenny made it across to the other side of the ditch and back up to the road, he grabbed the phone from her hands.

"I need a fire rescue squad and an ambulance four miles out on Highway 27, right away. It's where Shady Creek meets Lake Harmony and Lake Grover by the Matthews Bridge. Tell them there is a car all the way down in the ravine resting on its side. The man inside is alive, but unresponsive. They may need a chopper."

With my last bit of strength I had gotten myself onto to my back. I saw the flash of light for only a split second. Just figured my mind was playing tricks on me again.

"I need to rest now," I said, closing my eyes. I was lying in the cool water, but it didn't matter anymore, I had nothing left in me. I saw my beautiful wife on the inside of my eyelids. "I'm sorry," I said for the last time before my body finally gave up.

Steve's body had gone far beyond what it was capable of enduring. It finally shut down and was in what you might call a, 'Safe Mode.' He never heard the commotion that was all about him for 30 minutes. People were everywhere, shouting, screaming orders as metal was cut and injections given.

Updates were relayed to Holly. Kenny tried to keep her busy so she wouldn't go charging down that hill. There were a dozen professionals down there already attending to Steve's every need, and they didn't need a frantic wife hovering over them while they were trying to do their jobs.

"Holly, get in the car," Kenny demanded, pulling on her arm. "They're taking him to Mercy Medical. If we leave now, and if we hurry, we'll get there about the same time."

"I want to go with him," Holly said, pulling away.

"Maybe you don't understand, there isn't going to be any room," he said, pointing to the helicopter that was getting ready to land.

"I want to see him!"

"You'll see him when we get there. Please, Holly, just get in the car."

People are assholes. Kenny's police cruiser was flying down the road, lights flashing, sirens wailing, and still people weren't moving out of the way. Holly was going nuts, swearing at the drivers. Kenny was glad the windows were up and the doors locked, or she probably would have bolted out of the car and taken a few of those drivers down.

The helicopter carrying Steve beat them to the hospital, but not by much. As soon as they pulled up to the emergency room doors, Holly jumped out of the car and ran towards the crowded emergency room. Kenny didn't have the heart to tell her she probably wouldn't be able to see Steve yet. He figured he'd let the doctors be the bad guys for a change. His job had been to get her here in one piece.

"Mrs. Moore, your husband is already in surgery," Holly was told by a man in green scrubs. "He's lost a lot of blood, both of his arms need to be worked on, and by the looks of his head injuries, your husband probably sustained a concussion. That and whatever else won't be known until the x-rays are reviewed. Considering what he went through, he's lucky to be alive. You can see him when they take him to recovery."