The Frailty of Dolores

Nearly Dead

I wake up to a raspy beeping on the radio of my dad's truck. Warm fluid bubbles up into my throat and begins to pool out of my mouth. I try calling out, but all that comes out is a sick gargling. I can't even recall what happened, can't feel anything. A voice crackles over the static on the radio announcing a storm moving through Colorado. All the doors of the truck are wide open and freezing blasts of wind tear through the air, pounding against my skin. 

"...most intense through Moffat County, Linden County, Routt County, Rio Blan-..." the voice continues naming counties that are in danger, but Linden County stays echoing in my mind. I have to find shelter, I think to myself. Just then I begin to focus on my surroundings, noticing a dark liquid spattered all over the windshield running down the glass. There's no point beating around the bush. It's blood. I slowly try lifting my head only for it to fall again, it feels so heavy. Why does it feel so heavy, I ask myself. I try again to lift my head and succeed only to find that I can't see anything because my vision is so blurry. Images begin to seep through the haze. The seats of the truck, the rearview mirror, the steering wheel. And bodies. Three. Two of them biologically related, one related by heart. 

My mother lays limply over my lap, my best friend to the left of me, and my baby sister on my right. Tears immediately pour from my eyes and begin to drip off of my chin. Choked sobs start emerging from my throat causing me to cough up more of that warm fluid. It's red. I'm injured. My arms are pinned under my mother, but I can't move her. I don't want to. Her arms are stretched out towards my little sister, she was trying to protect my sister until a large knife was plunged into her back. I stop choking and am able to gasp for air only to be choked again by sobs and tears. I am so tempted to scream for her, to cry for my mom. I just can't make out the words. Any words. I am so overcome with emotion all I can do is cry and sob and wail. I don't know what to do I can't think straight, I need someone else, I need help. Get your shit together dammit, I tell myself. Breathing heavily, I convince myself to calm down a bit. I have to get out of the truck. I begin shifting my weight around so as not to disturb my mom, but move my hand over to my seatbelt and unbuckle it. I'm going to have to move her if I want to get out.

I breathe in through my nose and out through my mouth a few times before I coerce myself into believing that it's okay. I can move her. I wrap my arms around her torso -the part that's mostly on me- and begin to slide out from beneath her, moving her arms so they are resting at her sides. I have to climb over my sister and this is when I really see her. Her blonde hair is matted down with half dried blood, her face is pallid, her green dress is drenched in blood. Who could ever do this? Thea had just had her ninth birthday. She'd barely even lived. All of her limbs were slack, her head hanging down over her lap. I've never seen a more forlorn sight. Little Thea looks abandoned, and my heart shatters at the mere thought of walking away to find help. However, that's what I have to do.

I drop down from the truck and am met with instant pain the moment my foot hits the ground. Gripping my stomach I collapse to the ground, my knees smacking the jagged asphalt. I groan, surprised by the extreme discomfort. Bringing my hand away from my midriff I discover a deep gash in the left side of my body. The fabric of my dress surrounding it soiled with blood and torn just a bit larger than the size of the actual wound. Get up, now, I think. I manage to slowly stand up using the truck to gain some balance, all the while sporadic jolts of pain fighting my every move. I'm in the parking lot of a giant building. I tell my legs to walk and they do, as the wind continues hammering against me I don't think about anything else except walking and the building. 

***

Falling to the ground again once in a while I come to the building's front door just to be defeated by the unbudging set of gargantuan wooden doors. My breathing is worse than before, blood is streaming down leg, I've left a trail of blood behind me. My body has been screaming at me to give in the whole time, but there must be a back door to this place, so I soldier on.