Wrecked
Authors: H.P. Landry
WRECKED
Pointe Hope Series
H.P. Landry
Dedication
This is dedicated to the man who has always loved, and believed in me while he has stood by my side over the last nine years. Thank you for enduring the last six months of having a messy house, fast food, but especially being the best dad our kids could ever have.
I love you!
Table of Contents
Prologue
We were moving again, and I honestly couldn’t wait to get out of New York. The tension in the car was palpable; each of us silently lost in our own thoughts, with the hum of the tires against the road the only sound for several miles. When I saw the sign indicating we had left New York, I let go of a breath that I hadn’t known I had held. I squeezed my eyes shut and took a moment to reflect on all that had happened over the years.
The truth was, I’d hoped that the memories we left behind would always remind us of one key point: trust no one. Although my husband’s relatives had offered their support, they had abandoned us, leaving us homeless. When we came to New York, we’d trusted that our bond as family would have brought us closer, even allowed his family to feel some loyalty and stand up for those less fortunate. Unfortunately, none of that happened, and honestly, what could we expect? This was why we now found ourselves driving cross-country to the Valley of the Sun. The reality of the situation was that this was a blessing and probably for the best.
“You sure you’re okay about going back?” my husband asked me again while our kids were in the back of the SUV. I watched Mylie coloring in her coloring book and Nikolas playing with a blue toy truck, and I couldn’t help but smile as I held his hand reassuringly.
“Yes I’m sure. It’s what my sister would’ve wanted.” The pang of grief was still fresh, and even after eight months, it hadn’t become any easier to accept that she was gone.
“I can’t wait! No more knee-high snow and freezing temperatures. Nothing but crystal clear skies and warm sunny days,” my husband, Xavi, proclaimed excitedly.
I watched him quietly and found myself smiling when I thought of the many times I had tried to explain to people how to pronounce Xavi's name. They’d tried, I’ll give them that, but it usually required me explaining that it sounded like
have E
or
Ha Vee
, but it never once fazed him. Being thrust into my world was hard on him at first, but over the years we had found a peaceful compromise. Returning to that world brought trepidation, more from me than him.
Once upon a time, the idea of going back to Phoenix would have been a living nightmare. I couldn’t help sighing as I thought of the painful memories that awaited me when I returned home, but I swallowed the lump in my throat and turned my attention to my handsome husband instead. Xavi had never asked me for anything in the eight years of our relationship. I had to admit, seeing him cry when we were kicked out while he begged me to call my family confirmed that I was utterly in love with this man and could deny him nothing. “What you really mean is, you can’t wait for a big fat carne asada burrito from Gilberto's,” I teased.
“That too!” Xavi's Cheshire grin caused a flurry of butterflies to dance in the pit of my stomach, while my heart felt as though it skipped a beat.
“So how long before we get to Carrie and Mike’s?” I asked and watched the fog begin to grow thick as we wound our way through the higher elevations of the mountains of Pennsylvania.
“Another six hours, but with the trailer, it’s taking us a lot longer,” he said. He was frustrated, and the bouncing of the SUV was a constant reminder that we couldn’t speed. We saw cars fly past, and they flipped us off as they drove by. I groaned because I knew how much Xavi hated that, especially with the kids in the back watching everything.
“Oooh daddy, that man did bad word hand,” our three year old son, Nikolas, said as he watched yet another ranting Pennsylvanian drive by waving his one finger salute.
“Don’t people realize that others have kids?” Xavi was annoyed, but other than that he was in good spirits.
I rubbed his thigh lovingly and smiled. I stared at his profile, sneaking a peek at his milk chocolate brown eyes and delicate, square tipped nose and full lips--
goodness he was handsome!
He had a five o’clock shadow with perfectly arched brows and full fringe, dark ebony lashes, which gave his utterly stunning Puerto Rican features a striking glow. I couldn’t help but smile at the constant reminder of just how lucky I genuinely was.
“Mommy!”
I turned around and saw that Nikolas had dropped a toy. I reached for it, but it was too far away for me to grasp.
“Nikolas, Mommy can’t reach it honey.” The tears were already threatening to spill over his lashes, and it pulled on my heartstrings. “Okay, okay.”
I unbuckled my seat belt, turned around to set my knees on the seat, and bent forward so I could reach for his favorite blue truck. With the very tips of my fingers, I felt the cold surface of metal and curled my fingers to bring it closer to my palm. It budged, and once it was close enough, I lifted it to show my son.
“Look Nikolas!” our beautiful eight-year-old daughter, Mylie, said excitedly to her younger brother.
“Yay! Mommy did it!” Nikolas squealed with delight.
And then I heard …
“OH MY GOD!” Xavi yelled, slamming on the brakes.
I whipped around to see a stalled car in front of us, but it was too late for me to brace for the collision. I could only watch in horror as we slammed into the white sedan. My blurred life came into full focus when I realized that I might be within milliseconds of it ending. Xavi reached for my hand but missed only by inches. There was a deafening screech from the tires and an earth shattering pounding from the crumpling metal. The smells of antifreeze, gasoline, and hydraulic brake fluid filled the air. Shards of glass pierced my flesh as if shot from the barrel of a gun, and I heard Xavi’s heartrending scream. In the last moment, my children's screams tore through the air as they watched my body smash through the windshield at fifty-five miles per hour.
My body was propelled over the hood of our truck as I flew across the expanse of the barren Pennsylvanian highway. My mangled body was thrown out of the vehicle backwards, but as I moved through the air I could see the wreckage. I was horrified to see that the front of our silver SUV was smashed like tin foil against the white sedan with which we had collided. The pain had yet to set in, but the gravity of the situation did not go unnoticed. I felt like everything was passing me by, as if I were watching a movie in slow motion. Yet when my body finally slammed against the ground, everything came into focus. My head collided against the soil and my vision blurred, but I slowly tried to concentrate on the surroundings. It was evident I had been ejected several hundred feet from the car. I continued to fight against the delirium, but then I felt it. Excruciating pain racked my body from head to toe, robbing me of my ability to breathe. I struggled to draw air into my lungs. Even as I labored to take breaths, the thought that I needed to get to my family remained a constant. I had to move, regardless of my pain. I had to get to them.
Lord, please give me the strength,
I prayed silently.
Tears streamed down my face.
How am I alive? This can’t be happening.
I watched as the fog became denser and started to wonder if anyone would be able to find me. Intense cold ripped through my body, and I began to shake uncontrollably.
No,
I won’t die
.
I need to save my family!
I tried to turn, but waves of the most severe pain I had ever felt coursed through my tattered body, nearly causing me to lose consciousness. I needed to fight through the pain because I had to get to them. As I fought to control the pain, the white sedan began to shoot sparks into the air, starting a fire.
Jesus Christ, no!
I dug my fingers into the soil and heaved my body forward. I ground my knees into the dirt and struggled to crawl forward. The pain was disorienting, and then suddenly everything went numb, as if a burst of adrenaline shot through my system. I tried hard to stand, but I couldn’t.
Why won’t my legs cooperate?
I glanced down to see that my jeans were soaked in blood. A bright white bone poked through the denim along my left leg while my right ankle had clearly broken. I was shocked at the amount of damage my legs had taken, but I now had the answer to my question.
Jesus this can’t be happening.
“MOMMY!” my son screamed.
I had never felt so helpless in my entire life. It appeared hopeless, and I was stuck living out my own version of hell. Surely I wasn’t to be allowed to live, only to watch my family die in such a cruel manner. The flames grew higher, nearly consuming the small vehicle, and I wondered if the people in the white car were already dead.
I began to cry uncontrollably. I threw back my head and screamed for help, but no one came. My throat felt raw, and I kept trying to pull myself forward. I might have moved a foot, but there was too much distance between my family and me, and at the rate I was going, I would never make it in time. I hoped and prayed for some kind of angelic power that would give me the strength to get to my family.
The flames shot into the air from the now fully engulfed white sedan, licking at the front end of our SUV. The cold and fog did nothing to contain the blaze. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw lights appear. I pleaded, and screamed for help, but the lights seemed so far away
.
Why is this happening?
Movement inside the SUV caught my attention. My daughter was hitting the window in the backseat, trying to get out.
“Yes, baby! Hit the glass. Get the head rest, Mylie,” I screamed out.
“MOMMY! Daddy’s dead!” Mylie’s panic-stricken face confirmed it. My husband was gone. I felt the air leave my body, and I collapsed.
No, please, Lord, no!
I struggled to crawl another foot, and the sound of breaking glass was music to my ears. My babies had a savior! A stranger had shattered the glass of the passenger side front door. I thanked the Lord for bringing this stranger. He grabbed my children, one at a time, and pulled them out of the SUV. Snatching them both up in his arms, he ran away from the burning cars. A sudden explosion threw them through the air. My children’s screams ripped through the dense, frigid air.
“DADDY!!” Nikolas cried, as soon as he had recovered from the blast. He tried to run to the SUV, but Mylie grabbed him and covered his body with hers. My little adult, she was always protecting her baby brother.
I couldn’t help but cry. That was my job. If I died now, I’d know my kids survived, but I wouldn’t be at peace
-- n
ot knowing whether or not they would be safe. I couldn’t die too!
Maybe Xavi wasn’t gone? He would raise our kids, and at least they would have one of us. The thought of my children alone was too horrifying to imagine. Yes, he was strong; he would live. There was no way life could be so tragic that my children would watch us both die. They were children, innocent, and they didn’t need this to be their final memory of their parents.
Please Lord, let him live.
I watched the stranger as he carefully made his way back to the flaming SUV. Using his arms to protect his face, he struggled to pull Xavi from the wreckage. They fell over in a collaborative heap on the side of the road, and I couldn’t tell if Xavi was breathing. I watched as the stranger lowered his ear to Xavi’s mouth then slowly shook his head.