The Best of Me - Nicholas Sparks [100]
The car slammed into his with an ear-shattering crash, spraying glass and metal shards everywhere. Part of the door frame, mangled and bent, exploded inward toward his chest in the same instant that the air bag inflated. Jared jerked against the restraints of the seat belt, his head whipping around as the car began to spin through the intersection. I’m going to die, he thought, but he couldn’t draw enough breath to make a sound.
When the car finally stopped moving, it took a moment for Jared to understand he was still breathing. His chest hurt, he could barely move his neck, and he thought he was going to choke on the overwhelming odor of gunpowder from the air bag’s deployment.
He tried to move but was hit with searing pain in his chest. The door frame and steering wheel were wedged against him and he struggled to free himself. Squirming to the right, he was suddenly released from the weight pressing down on him.
Outside, he caught sight of other cars that had stopped in the intersection. People were getting out, some of them already calling 911 on their cell phones. Through the jagged web of glass, he noticed that the hood of his car was pitched like a small tent.
As if from a great distance, he heard people shouting at him not to move. He turned his head anyway, thinking suddenly of his dad, and saw the mask of blood covering his father’s face. Only then did he begin to scream.
Amanda was an hour from home when her cell phone rang. Reaching over to the passenger seat, she had to dig through her purse to find it, finally answering on the third ring.
As she listened to Jared’s shaky account, an icy paralysis gripped her. In a disjointed fashion, he told her about the ambulance at the scene, about all the blood on Frank. He himself was fine, he reassured her, but they were making him get into the ambulance along with Frank. He told her that both of them were being taken to Duke University Hospital.
Amanda clenched the phone. For the first time since Bea’s illness, she felt a gut-wrenching fear take root. Real fear, the kind that left no room to think or feel anything else.
“I’m coming,” she said. “I’ll be there as quick as I can—”
But then, for some reason, the call was cut off. She redialed immediately, but there was no answer.
Veering into the opposite lane, she floored the gas pedal and passed the car in front of her, flashing her lights. She had to get to the hospital right away. But the beach traffic had yet to thin.
After their little excursion to Tuck’s, Abee realized he was starving. Since the infection, he hadn’t had much of an appetite, but now it was back with a vengeance, another sign of how well the antibiotics were working. At Irvin’s he ended up ordering a cheeseburger, along with a side of onion rings and chili-cheese fries. Though he wasn’t finished yet, he knew he’d end up cleaning every plate. He figured he’d even have room for a piece of pie and a scoop of ice cream later.
Ted, on the other hand, wasn’t doing so well. He, too, had ordered the cheeseburger, but he was taking small bites and chewing slowly. Smashing up the car had apparently used up the last bit of strength he had.
While they’d been waiting for their food, Abee had called Candy. This time, she’d answered on the first ring and they’d talked for a little while. She told him she was already at work and apologized for not returning his calls, mentioning that she’d had car trouble. On the phone, she sounded like she was glad to hear from him, flirting just the way she always had. When he hung up, he felt a lot better about the situation and even wondered if he’d been reading too much into what he’d seen the other night.
Maybe it was the food or his general recovery, but as he continued to work through his burger, he found himself thinking back on the conversation again, trying to figure out what was bothering him about it. Because something was bothering