The first sensation was an enormous emptiness in the stomach. For a moment, time stopped as the Corcel crossed the edge of the abyss and rolled down the slope. Durval held tightly to the steering wheel and waited for the crash, closing his eyes. It seemed like an eternity passed before the car hit the ground with a thud. The jolt sank his body into the seat and made him sway from side to side like a doll inside a box shaken by a child. The car did not stop, tearing through the underbrush, speeding down the slope, out of control. It jumped like a wild horse as the front wheels violently hit the holes and unevenness of the terrain. Durval thought about trying to control the vehicle, but it was impossible. The steering was completely loose and spun from side to side. Possibly the front axle had broken with the first impact. It was then that, in one of the bumps, the car tipped on its side and rolled over.
Now, the wicked child was really shaking the box. The seatbelt seemed to cut Durval’s body from top to bottom as it squeezed him against the seat. It was impossible to tell what was up or down; everything was a confusing mix of gray images.
The last crash was the worst of all. Durval’s body was thrown against the car’s ceiling, and everything went dark.
He couldn’t tell how much time had passed when he opened his eyes. He heard the soft sound of rain on the car’s metal and felt a strange taste in his mouth, it tasted like iron. He moved his tongue over his teeth and realized his mouth was full of blood. He felt no pain in his body and for a moment thought he hadn’t been seriously injured. But then he noticed the pool of blood forming rapidly near his head.
Slowly, he began to move his hands and arms. He couldn’t move his legs. One of the car windows was completely crushed, it had become small, as if it had simply shrunk. The other was open. Maybe he could squeeze out through it. He held the side of the window with one hand and tried to pull his body, but there wasn’t enough strength in his arm, or perhaps his legs were trapped in the metal. He felt nauseous and ended up choking on the blood in his throat. He just didn’t want to pass out at that point. If he could get out of the car, maybe he could signal someone; someone might see. It must have been around midnight or later. Who would pass by at this hour? The Corcel’s headlights were off; if only they were on, someone could see the light.
With great effort, Durval managed to pull half of his body out of the car. The rain falling on his face was a relief; he opened his mouth and let the water in. He took a deep breath, smelling the wet grass around him. And then he saw it.
At the top of the embankment, the pickup truck that had crashed into his car was stopped with its headlights on. The two beams of light illuminated the rain like the eyes of a tiger lurking in the night. Beside the truck, he saw the shadow of two people looking in his direction.
JOSÉ GASPARFilmmaker and writerwww.historiasdooutromundo.comjagramos@gmail.com