Angel Eyes

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'll be fine. I feel good. You know I love driving at night--it's peaceful and relaxing. Go to sleep, sweetie."

"Ok."

She caressed his right arm, lifted her legs onto the seat and curled up into a tight ball. With her facing out towards the passenger side window, he reached out and gave her derriere a light rub in response.

The outlines of Joshua trees in the landscape whizzed by as he sped over the flat desert. In the pale moonlight, the scene just beyond the reach of his headlights resembled a faded painting.

With nary an oncoming vehicle to interrupt his thoughts, he could let his mind wander. He was certain they had made the right decision in accepting a job in California, halfway across the country. If anything, they could stay on the west coast, start a family, and return to his hometown when the kids moved out.

He couldn't help but smile realizing he actually caught himself thinking of his future kids as much as he had openly resisted to her desires of starting a family right away. He glanced in her direction and saw her face reflected in the passenger side window. She was even more beautiful in slumber.

He felt the car lurch slightly upwards as it ramped onto a small hillock. Slightly startled, he hurriedly returned his gaze towards the road. As he rounded the top of the hill, suddenly, his headlights fell on a little girl walking slowly across the highway, directly in his path.

He slammed on the brakes and gripped the steering wheel instinctively tighter. He was going to hit her. He could not avoid it. The trailer containing all their belongings was threatening to jack-knife and was screeching in its eagerness. He pulled back on the wheel in desperation. All his senses were on high alert. Everything was louder, but time had slowed down. His tires were squealing, his pulse was pounding in his eardrums, his wife--now fully awake--was staring forward towards the road and shrieking, as his brain drowned it all out, screaming at him "Murderer!" His mind flashed forward to his new life of incarceration, guilt, and societal labeling.

He waited for the moment of impact as all his senses went into full overload and exploded. As he squeezed his eyes tight to shield himself from witnessing the ensuing horror, he caught a glimpse of her turning to face him. She held her hand out, palm facing him, as if to repel the skidding car.

The car finally stopped, but his wife's screaming did not. Neither did his screaming brain. He lurched forward straining against his seat belt. His head slammed into the steering wheel. He tried to unfurl his fingers but they were locked tight.

He opened his eyes slowly, frightful of the scene before him. It was then he realized that he hadn't felt an impact. He felt his wife punching him on the arm, though. Violently. She was furious. He hadn't acknowledged her until now. The whole ordeal must have lasted four or five seconds but it felt like half an hour had passed.

He whisked his head to look at her. Her lips pursed together, and he could see the question in her eyes. As he searched for the appropriate answer before a single word escaped her lips, there was a loud boom and a blinding flash of light. His ears went into automatic overload again and this time they were ringing in full protest. This time, the sound was real and the explosion reverberated through his skull shaking his bones.

Even though his eyes were closed, the bright light pierced through his eyelids. And it wasn't just a bright light. It was a hot light. His face felt like it fell on a hot griddle and he could feel his skin almost crisp. His senses were being battered. The windshield shattered and blasted into the couple.

Within a second of the explosion, with his brain desperately seeking explanation and pleading for calm, it was over. The onslaught of the glass shrapnel left them both bleeding from the sides of their faces. Their hands also bled as they had instinctively tried to shield their faces from the light.

As they clambered out of the car onto shaking knees, they stared blankly at the 10-foot wide crater in the middle of the highway not three car lengths in front of them.

He suddenly remembered. He started frantically looking around. Searching. Scanning. He could feel his pupils widening in earnest and his eyebrows furrowing. He looked to the sides of the highway with a pained look on his face. His pulse was quickening again. This time, it was from the shock of realization.

"Oh, that poor girl", was all he could weakly mutter.

His wife turned to look at him, confused, "what girl?"