Chapter 37

As a terrible event awaits, such as an accident, time can sometimes seem to slow down.

That was certainly the case for the three people in the pot smoke-filled police car after Squiggy veered away from the young boy coming from the other direction.

The intersection they were traveling through was a three way with traffic coming from the north, south and west. To the east rests a large two-story house that has somehow avoided cars and trucks for years.

Sadly, that stretch of good fortune appeared to be ending.

"Crapfire!" Squiggy hollered. "I spilt my beer!"

"I ain't worried none bout yer beer," said the police chief from the backseat. They were spinning and headed straight for the house. "We's gonna run into the Henson house!"

"Cool!" said the boy, who got popped in the back of the head from the chief.

There was really nothing that Squiggy could do. The chains in the tires were trying to get a bite on the slick roads, but failing badly. They narrowly avoided the post for the stop light, hit the curb and were propelled airborne, sailing over a row of shrubs.

"This sucks!" said the chief.

Squiggy kept his eyes open as the car approached the house. They were headed to a large window on the second floor. As the car made contact, the house caved in. The car made it through the outside wall and then collapsed along with the second floor down to the first floor.

It really wasn't as bad as what they feared. The air bag went off and bloodied the boy's nose again. The chief was thrown into the front seat, again injuring his back. The air bags soon deflated and the boy and chief helped each other up. They were in the middle of the living room and had caused a mess, of course. Wood and sheetrock were splattered all around them.

"We's alive!" the chief hollered. He reached over and grabbed Squiggy, who fell over on the chief. "Get off me, you queer!"

"Naw, I think he's hurt," the boy said.

"Oh. Sorry bout that, Squiggy."

"I don't think he's...what's that word?"

"Which one?" the chief asked.

"When a person ain't awake?" The boy and the chief piled out of the car.

"Asleep?"

"Crap no, you idiot. When they ain't concious."

"Heck if I know. What do you think we oughta do?"

"You're the cop. Ain't you trained for emergencies?"

"Sorta."

The boy leaned in the car. "How can you sorta be trained?"

"It was a long time ago." The chief moved some of the rubbish out of the way and walked around to the driver's side of the car. He opened the door and tapped Squiggy on the shoulder. "Hey, want a beer?"

"That's yer dadgummed idea of responding to an emergency? Asking him if he wanted a beer?"

"I figgered it'd work for Squiggy."

"You best call for a wrecker and an ambulance."

"Good idear!" The chief started to get the radio when he thought of something. "We gotta move him. I'd get my arse canned if they found out he was driving when we wrecked."

"Okay, let's drag his butt outta there."

The chief nodded. He grabbed Squiggy and started pulling his body out of the door and through the rubbish. The boy helped out and then took him over to the couch and laid him down.

"Raise his gourd up," the chief said.

"What for?"

"So we can give him a piller."

"He's like zonked. Squiggy won't know if he's got a pillow."

"Yeah, but once he wakes up, he might appreciate that we took the time to give him one."

"Go ahead then." Something was bothering the boy for several seconds, before realizing what was wrong. "We probably shouldn't have moved him."

"Are you friggin crazy? I don't wanna go on unemployment again!"

"Naw, I remember watching on television that you ain't supposed to move somebody if they's got a back or neck injury."

The chief put his hands on his hips. He thought about this for a few seconds before deciding to put a chaw in his mouth. He let loose with one of his disgusting snorts before packing his jaw.

"Maybe he ain't got a spinal injury."

"Yep, hopefully it's like a brain or something."

"That might be worse," the chief said and spit on the floor.

"Yeah, but we didn't cause it...That's gross! Why you spitting on the carpet?"

"They ain't gonna need it."

"It's the thought."

"Whatever. Figger anybody's home?"

"If they is, they's some deep sleepers."

"I'll call fer help. Go see if anybody's home and don't steal nothing."

The boy took off as the chief called for help. He got the same dispatcher Squiggy was harassing earlier. She actually sounded a little concerned after finding out that he was hurt. "We was gonna date."

"Best take a rain check," the chief suggested.

The boy returned back into the living room and stood over Squiggy, looking down at him. "I think he's still alive."

"Good," the chief said. His stomach rumbled loud enough for the boy to hear.

"Dadgum!" he said. "You ain't gonna cheese, is you?"

"Naw, I'm starvin. Ain't ate enough today."

The Langford Police Chief walked into the still enact kitchen and started going through the cabinets and the refrigerator. As the boy stood over the fallen Squigster, he smelled something.

"You cookin?" he asked.

"Yep, got some bacon fryin. Want some?"

"You's gonna eat they's food?"

"Shore. Lectricity's out. Food will go bad if I don't. Good thing they got gas."

"And you don't."

The chief laughed and spit in the clean sink. He had the eggs, bacon and biscuits ready by the time the ambulance showed up. The boy unlocked the front door and let them in. The chief was sitting down at what was left of the table with his plate stacked a good four inches high of food. The boy got his plate, a much smaller helping, he noticed, and sat down in the recliner and kicked back. He grabbed the remote and hit the power button, but nothing happened.

"Dadgum television ain't workin!" he complained.

"No electricity," said the first EMT. He was a large man wearing what looked to be a perm. His partner was a female who looked like she could kick everybody's butt in the house and like it.

"What happened to him?" she asked, pointing at Squiggy.

"We wrecked," said the boy.

"You don't say?" said the male EMT.

"Yep, just did."

"Who moved him?" the woman asked. The chief and boy pointed at each other.

"That wasn't a wise move," said the male EMT. "Say, you got any more biscuits?"

"We don't have time to eat," she said.

"Oh, yeah. Let's check him out."

They examined Squiggy for several minutes before deciding they needed to haul him off to the hospital. The male EMT left and returned several minutes later with a back board. They secured Squiggy's back and neck and placed him on the board. The chief was still eating as they tried to carry Squiggy out to the ambulance.

"How bout a little help?" she suggested.

"Almost through," the chief said.

"Can't you come back and finish?"

"I reckon so." The chief groaned and grabbed part of the board, as did the boy. They took Squiggy out to the ambulance, almost slipping and dropping him twice.

"Dadgum ice is slick," the boy stated.

"It usually is," she said. They finished loading up Squiggy and the female EMT stayed in the back to work on him as the male got behind the wheel and drove off.

The drive to the Poteau hospital was slow. Most of the staff had called in and said they couldn't make it in. Luckily, few patients were in need of medical care. After arriving at the hospital, they placed Squiggy in a room. The nurses came in and started examining him. The doctor showed up a few minutes later and did his examination.

Sadly, he was in need of surgery. Squiggy was out for some five hours before he finally came back to the land of the living. Standing next to him was a nurse and a foreign doctor.

"Hey baby," Squiggy said. "I need a beer."

"That ees not a good idea," said the doctor.

"Who the heck are you?"

"I'm Doctor Mustaf Kutthechez."

"You a terrorist?"

"No, like I said, I am your doctor."

"Ain't there any whites around?"

"No, sir, I am the only doctor on call today."

Squiggy tried to sit up, but couldn't.

"What's wrong with me?"

"We had to operate, sir. I'm sorry, but I must give you bad report."

Chapter 38