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There was a split second before the crash where she thought she should relax. She’d heard that somewhere once, that sometimes drunk drivers ended up less hurt than the people they hit because they were loose, mentally and physically. She’d imagined it every time someone swerved ahead of her, every time she had to slam on her brakes as traffic suddenly halted—she’d imagined how she’d notice in time and, instead of bracing, would go limp in her seat, thereby saving herself.
All of this flashed through her mind the second before collision. Not nearly enough time for the thought to pass from her brain to the rest of her body. She did not go limp. She did not save herself.
The crash took forever and was over in a blink. She hit the other car head-on, horn blaring, tires screeching, lights much too bright in her eyes. The front of both cars crunched inward, the glass of her windshield splintered, and her vision went white as the airbags deployed. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t feel anything beyond the pain everywhere.
She blinked. Blinked again. Her mouth tasted like iron, and the air smelled like chemicals.
Out. Out. It was all she could think. She had to get out. Her back hurt, arms hurt, neck hurt. If she could just get out, maybe lay down, she’d feel better.
Aching hands fumbled for the latch of her seat belt. It was slippery for some reason, but she managed to find the button and press until she heard a metallic click, and a tiny bit of the pressure on her chest eased.
Belt removed, she used her other hand to reach for the door handle. She found it, pulled, but did not hear or feel the door release. No. She tried again. Again. Nothing. No! She panicked, taking in heaving breaths of powdery air as she struggled to shove the airbag aside so she could press her whole self against the door. She shoved once, twice—on the third, the latch finally gave way, the door swung open, and she flopped onto the ground.
Yes. Yes, this was better. She could feel grass under her cheek, even though her neck hurt worse than ever. She could smell trees, even though her lungs weren’t filling up all the way. She could see—smoke. Was something on fire?
Too close. She was too close to the car. That was probably dangerous. She needed to get away from it. But, oh, her legs were not responding. She wiggled her toes just to see if they’d move but couldn’t tell if they had. They must have, though, because the one leg still stuck in the seat of the car dropped out. She saw the denim of her jeans slide across the footboard, heard the impact of her boot on the ground, but didn’t feel any of it. That was probably normal. She was in shock. Her body was keeping her from feeling the worst of it. All normal.
But she needed to get away from the car. To safety. Legs still fast asleep, she rolled onto her stomach and began pulling herself across the grass, glad for the thick fabric of her long hoodie as her arms and hips scraped forward. It was like swimming really slowly. Doggy paddling through dirt. When she licked her dry lips, they felt sticky and tasted burnt.
A tree crept up on her as she moved, and, relieved, she crawled onto its roots, leaning herself against the trunk. Turning back, she saw that the car wasn’t far away at all, even though it felt like she’d moved miles. This would have to be far enough. Her arms were starting to go as numb as her legs. She wished her neck would follow suit. It really hurt.
Sluggishly, her tired eyes scanned the area. The car that had hit her was nowhere in sight. Maybe they’d been flung in opposite directions. She hoped the fucker had died. No, she didn’t, she hoped he was okay. No, she hoped he was hurting, stupid, stupid—No…
Her breathing began to slow as she rested, her heart rate calming in tandem. Good. She needed to stay calm. Someone would find her. Wouldn’t they? Should she call someone? Barely-feeling hands pawed at her pocket. Empty. Her phone was still in the cup holder of the car. No way would she be able to get back to it. But that was fine. This was a busy road. They’d find her.
She leaned back against the tree, shifting a bit to find a position that hurt her neck a little less. She’d meant to blink some moisture back into her eyes, but when she closed them, they stayed that way, too heavy to re-open. That was fine. She should probably rest anyway. She was feeling a little dizzy. And a lot tired.
Tomorrow, she’d have to look for a rental car. She was pretty sure Amity Park was close. Hopefully she wouldn’t need to be in the hospital too long, or if she did have to stay, her new job would hold her position for a day or two. For once, she’d been looking forward to going to work. First day in a new place with new people. Like the first day of school but all grown up. Had to be better than what she’d left behind.
Her breathing evened out, slowed. The pulse of her heartbeat dimmed as she drifted off. Her neck even stopped hurting.
In fact, everything.
Stopped.
Lights flashed before her eyes—headlights? Had someone called an ambulance? But she didn’t hear anything, and the light wasn’t red or white, it was…green.
She dragged her eyelids open.
There was a wide pool of green on the ground next to her. No, not on the ground, sort of hovering a little above it? She reached a bloody hand out to pass under it, as if checking for wires, for some kind of trick.
The moment her fingers got close, they passed into the pool. It didn’t feel like water. It didn’t feel like much at all. Her hand disappeared into the green, then her wrist, then her elbow.
Her stomach swooped as she fell sideways into nothing.
She curled into herself, bracing for impact, but it never came. She felt warm, she felt her heart rate kick up again, she felt her lungs fill and a shiver run up her spine—she felt.
Her eyes shot open.
More green. Green as far as they eye could see. But not just green. Dots of blue and purple, and in the distance, something darker, a void like the eye of a storm.
“What?” she croaked in a voice that barely sounded like her own.
Another shade of green moved directly in front of her face, and she flinched away from it, gasping as her back spasmed with the motion. The oblong shape followed her anyway, and she realized there was nothing under her, over her, around her to push off of. She couldn’t run. And moving hurt.
She rubbed her eyes, clearing her vision enough to make out a little more detail. The thing flying—floating?—in front of her face was just a little blob of electric green with tiny red pinprick eyes. It had no other features but somehow still seemed to be looking at her curiously.
“What?” she asked again, somewhat defensively this time.
The blob flew in a small circle, then disappeared from her line of sight. Still wary, she tried to turn to follow it, ignoring the sting in her neck. Her body seemed to tilt, and her stomach gave another little swoop at the repositioning. Now turned around, she could see that the blob wasn’t alone. There were four or five of them, a swarm or a school, weaving around each other and around her.
As she watched, one caught sight of her, did a little figure eight, and then flew straight at her. She tried to duck—though there was nowhere to duck to—but it ran right into her. Literally. It flew into her chest and disappeared.
She craned her neck to see if it had flown out the other side, but there was nothing behind her.
A moment later, she gasped, taking in more air than she had since the crash, then coughed as her lungs got used to expanding again. And…it didn’t hurt.
She didn’t figure it was worth asking “what?” a third time.
Another blob disengaged from the group and floated over to her, more slowly than the last. It bobbed in front of her a moment before rubbing up against her palm, for all the world seeming like a small, green, limbless cat. She had a second to marvel at the cool texture of its skin before it seemed to melt right into her hand, becoming just a slight green glow under her skin. She watched as the glow wove from her hand, around her wrist, and up her arm, disappearing under her blood-encrusted sleeve. A few seconds later, her fingers began to tingle like they’d just regained circulation.
She was dreaming, she decided. She was in the hospital, and these little guys were how her mind was interpreting the doctors healing her up. What a funny story this would be to regale her new co-workers with. She’d have a ghost story to tell before she even got to Amity Park! She was going to get a good grade in water cooler talk, a thing that was both normal to want and possible to achieve.
The last three blobs swirled closer but did not fade into her as the others had. Instead, they began circling, flying behind her slowly and then darting a few feet ahead before coming right back.
“Oh,” she said, her voice a little less scratchy this time. “Go? That way?”
The blobs continued their circling. Unsure what else to do, she leaned, willing herself forward as she had previously in flying dreams. This did not result in a smooth motion forward, but some dreams were just like that. Especially the ones where she knew she was dreaming. Knowledge of reality was just a dead weight in dreams, so she tried to push it from her mind. Flying. I am flying now.
It got easier from there, and she managed to follow where the blobs lead with little meandering. As they flew, other creatures passed them by, many with more defined shapes than her friends. Some looked like little screaming bats, others like oddly angry octopi, and once she was pretty sure she saw a trio of vultures in cute little hats.
They must have me on the good drugs, she thought.
She was watching what looked like a skeletal horse fly by, possibly with something child-shaped on its back, when she experienced the last of her collisions for the evening.
“Oof!” She rolled her still aching shoulder as she reoriented and spotted the door she’d run into. It was a bright purple with a dark, round doorknob. The shape of the door was a little wonky, but there was no frame, so its own shape didn’t seem to bother it any.
The blobs ran into the door a few times, much more lightly than she had, before floating up to her shoulder and fading into the skin just under her shirt.
Well, she’d followed them this far. In for a penny, in for a pound, as they said.
It wasn’t until after she’d turned the knob and pushed the door open that she wondered if she should have knocked. And then wondered why she would have bothered since there should have been nothing behind this bare door floating in a green void.
But it opened to a small, empty room. Pale green walls. Blue-ish carpet. As she floated inside, something akin to gravity set in, and miracle of miracles, her legs caught her when she landed on the floor. She stood looking around the room, wondering at the silence.
The door slammed behind her. Alarmed, she ran back and grabbed the handle in both hands, expecting to have to wrench it back open.
It opened easily. Not locked. Not trapped.
She breathed a sigh of relief, an action that was getting easier and easier. Any minute, she’d surely be waking up in a hospital bed, probably full of pain meds and breathing through an oxygen mask, but whole and hale.
Glancing through the impossible doorway, she wondered if she ought to explore this dream world a little more in the meantime. There were hundreds of doors, at least, and surely her brain could come up with something more fun than an empty room behind some of them.
Something big roared in the distance. Not quite distant enough for comfort.
No. No, she didn’t want this lovely dream to devolve into a nightmare. She hated when that happened. The empty room was fine for now. Maybe she could conjure something fun to do in here.
She closed the door and turned back to the room, ready to settle in until the doctors woke her up.