606
By Richard
Gonzalez
The
screech from the tires of the 18 wheeler still buzzed around in my mind. It had
been over a month and I still couldn’t seem to get an ounce of sleep. The
visions continued to haunt my life. The noises that filled my world were enough
to make me gladly accept a straight jacket and a padded room. Sounds of glass
and metal shattering and people screaming for their lives. It had been one whole
damn month and my mind refused to fuck with me.
It
was a casual Wednesday morning. The sun was beaming and it was a good 82
degrees outside. I was headed towards Centreville to purchase some supplies.
The landscaping company I owned was doing fantastic especially considering it
was mulch/ spring cleaning season. I pulled into my favorite little food
establishment on route 606. A little diner that would make the best sandwiches,
only now it’s a parking spot for the neighboring business. A Gatorade in one
hand and a steak, egg, and cheese bagel in the other hand, I guess made that
morning that much better.
Pulling
out of the diner, going at the normal pace, the only real thing on my mind was
just how beautiful the weather was that day. A grey Prius, somewhat new except
for the empty space where the left brake light should be, decided to cut me
off. Whatever this jackass’ problem was that he was in such a rush wasn’t going
to beat another successful week, landscaping wise anyways. Crossing the small
bridge on 606, all I really remember saying was “Oh Shit!”
The
grey Prius swerved onto incoming traffic with no hesitation. As I pressed on my
brake pedal, damn near smashing my foot all the way through the floor of my
truck a la Flintstones style, I was almost hit from the back by the few cars
behind me. They stopped in time to witness the grey Prius play chicken with a
red Target 18 wheeler. As both cars impacted, the driver of the Prius went
flying through the windshield. The front grills of each car became mangled mesh
of metal. The front right tire of the Prius popped off and hopped over the
barricade of the bridge, swan diving into the river. The grey hood slammed into
the windshield of the Prius, causing the remaining glass to be shattered in the
process. The front half of the Prius was being devoured by the mouth of the 18
wheeler.
Airbags
deployed immediately after impact. The driver of the 18 wheeler was knocked out
cold. The driver of the grey Prius was dead. Swallowed along with his car by
the 18 wheeler. It wasn’t until the police showed up and the cars pulled apart
that we could fully see the carnage. His head and upper body were engulfed in
the mangled metal of both grills. Blood and chunks of meat were laid out all
over the pavement and remains of the Prius.
His
mid section remained wrapped around the hood of his car, with both feet planted
firmly on the steering wheel. His entrails were laid out perfectly on the hot
gravel making a sizzling sound as if a barbeque were to be had. When the police
and medical examiners forcefully removed the upper body remains of the Prius’
driver, the grotesque scene of his head being caved into his neck was something
that no one should ever see. Especially due to the fact that a few of his teeth
and one of his eyeballs were inserted into one of the multiple cuts surrounding
his neck.
Everyone
got out of their cars hesitant at first. No words were said at least not until
the police showed up and even then it was difficult to get a word out of
anyone’s mouth. After a few hours of questioning the driver of the 18 wheeler
while he was getting looked at by the medics, my time to get the good cop/bad
cop routine came. Considering I was behind the guy, they thought I could
provide some sort of Intel. But I was too baffled and distraught from what the
hell just happened that the cops withdrew their questions. Plus, considering I
didn’t know the guy there was no way I was going to be much help.
I
got home and just hugged my wife who had the strangest look on her face, I
guess due to me being home after I had just left. But after I told her what
happened we just sat in silence for a while contemplating on the poor driver of
the grey Prius. Every chance I had of sleeping dissolved. Hours passed of me
tossing and turning, picturing the mangled mess that was left of the Prius’
driver. It came down to taking Ambien and Lunesta by the handfuls, yet that
didn’t help with my problem. After about the first week, I started downing a
couple of pills a night with a beer or two just to see if I was somehow able to
pass out. Luckily one night I was able to sleep like a rock but that’s when the
nightmares started happening. My dreams were always of the crash with a few
tweaks added. Often times the grey Prius would go over the bridge and fall into
the river. Other times the driver would simply walk out of the crash without a
scratch and just go on a full blown rampage to try and end his life all over
again.
The
most vivid one I remember didn’t even have to do with the crash but with the
diner. I remember walking in, making my order, and heading towards the drinks.
A man with a red hat and a green sleeveless jacket walked in. From the cuts and
bruises all over his arms, this guy must’ve been in one hell of a scrap last
night. He had a poorly trimmed beard and bags under his eyes with the most
hateful expression on his face. The only thing he kept mumbling was “today is
the day.” Over and over again, even when the cashier tried to make small talk
those were the only words that escaped his mouth. Everyone in the diner felt
quite uneasy; as we watched him exit he got into his car, a grey Prius and just
sat there staring down almost as if praying to whoever he worshiped.
I
proceeded to get out of the diner, turn on the radio and take a bite out of my
delicious meal. I guess the guy was waiting for someone to leave. The real
reason I mainly remember this dream is due to him not cutting me off in it. I
passed the bridge with ease, even passed by the 18 wheeler. Through my
rearview, I could see the grey Prius hauling ass. With a loud bang, I saw a
giant explosion which not only took out the driver of both the Prius and the 18
wheeler but it destroyed the entire bridge and anyone who was crossing it. The
sudden tremble of the “bomb” going off caused me to wake up instantly.
Most
nights I would wake up in a cold sweat, gasping for air almost in the exact same
fashion that most nightmare sequences go down in movies. I tried keeping my
mind occupied to the best of my ability but to no avail. I kept thinking to
myself “why would somebody end their life? Not just that but why would somebody
want to do it, in the likely chance that it would hurt others?” I once read a
blog post in which the author said, “Suicide is a permanent solution to a
temporary problem.” We all have our demons; I guess the driver’s demon caught
up to him.
Going
back to my usual routine was quite difficult. The whole aspect of going to
somebody’s house to do landscaping work didn’t fill me with the joy it used to.
Everything the workers did was always wrong and not timed perfectly. On top of
that I kept getting horrible hallucinations and hearing tires screeching. I
remember one day, we were planting some flowers for a lawyer at his gorgeous
home. One of the workers tossed a couple of the shovels down on the ground so
that we could dig. A piece of dry dirt from the shovel jumped up from the
impact and hit me on the cheek. I looked him dead in the eye and well to tell
the truth, I blacked out. In my paranoia, I imagined that the dry dirt turned
out to be a piece of meat that flew off of the driver of the grey Prius. I
imagined that as soon as the cars impacted all of the guts and blood that
splashed out from the crash hit me with such fury. I came to screaming, to all
of the other workers looking at me in shock. Apparently, I went off on a huge
tangent about barbequed human flesh and the tattered remains of metal meeting
skin and bones.
I
finally decided to go seek help and talk about everything that I had witnessed.
Due to not wanting to look crazy I decided to seek more family help than
professional help. Luckily, a cousin of mine had a degree in Psychology; boy did
he get an ear full. I told him all of my problems, detailed the crash exactly
how it happened and all of the horrible shit that I saw. I kept going over to
his house a couple of times a month. We eventually switched to forms of
meditation, so that my mind would ease itself out of this traumatic stress.
Slowly
but surely, time eventually helped calm the madness. It’s been one year since
this tragedy happened. It’s hard to block out certain things in life,
especially considering I cross the bridge on route 606 damn near every week.
After that hellish time, it took about two full weeks to finally regain my
sanity and even then it took many more months of meditation to maintain my
psyche. I was able to forget about the accident and the scenery that death
provided for me that day. Even though I still remember every detail of it, my
mind has balanced itself out and although it took some time, I am able to close
my eyes. Yet why is it that I still hear the screeching of those damn tires and
I still can’t get any sleep?
