First there was only darkness and silence, a shapeless void with no top, bottom or edges, and he had the feeling that he was floating free of all constraints, a being without age floating in a sea of timelessness. Then there was the sound of crickets, and the sound of something dripping. When he opened his eyes he saw light, and through a maze of cracks in the windshield he saw a patch of grass. His arms were hanging loose, his elbows bent, his forearms resting on the roof of the car. The straps of the seatbelt dug into his shoulder and lap.
He tried to speak, but his throat was dry and all he managed was a low croak. He turned his head to look at the passenger seat, but Kathy wasn't there. He remembered her being there before, remembered her sitting next to him and reading a book as he drove. He looked at the windshield again and noticed that the section of glass directly in front of the passenger seat was gone. There was a ragged hole in the windshield. He looked out at the patch of dry, brown grass, but he couldn't see very far. He could not see Kathy. He wondered if she had climbed out and gone for help. He thought she hadn't been wearing a seatbelt, but he pushed that thought away.
He tried to remember exactly what had happened. He remembered setting out that morning, stopping at the mailbox at the end of the driveway to check for mail (there had been only bills). He remembered stopping at an Amoco to fill up. He remembered Kathy reading the book, whispering the words as she read, a habit he had always found annoying but had long ago learned to accept. He couldn't remember anything else.
He tried to call out to Kathy, but nothing came out. He was tired, and he wondered if it would be all right to take just a short nap. He decided against it; Kathy would be back soon with help, and he wanted to be awake when she did.
But he was so tired. He thought that maybe he could rest his eyes for just a minute. He closed his eyes and listened to the sound of a semi-truck passing by on the road above. He wondered if the driver of that truck had any idea that a car had gone off the side of the road and was now sitting overturned at the bottom of the steep embankment. He thought not, but he wasn't too worried about it. Kathy would be back soon. Had she been wearing her seatbelt? He thought she hadn't been, but he had to be wrong. Being right would be too terrible to contemplate.
With his eyes closed he could almost believe that he was once again floating free in that timeless void. To pass the time until help arrived he thought about the day last summer when he and Kathy had gone to the shore. He could still smell the sea and feel the sand between his toes. He remembered the way that the light played along the edges of things.
But the phantom scent of the sea was overpowered by the smell of gasoline. He screwed up his nose at the stench. He opened his eyes. His mouth was filled with a coppery taste, and he spat a few times to try to rid himself of it. Then he closed his eyes again.
He wanted to be awake when Kathy came back, but he was tired. He would only sleep for a minute or two. Just a short nap, that's all.
