back toCHAPTER 19

I roll across three lanes, hit the front bumper of a parked truck, and spin slowly back into traffic. I’ve made a left turn onto this main road. There’s a pretty good downgrade. My stretcher picks up speed.

I coast down the middle of the street. Cars honk as they pass. Drivers are like dogs, you know? They have to comment. Honking is like barking. Honk! Look at that! Honk! He’s on a stretcher! Honk! Isn’t that weird! Honk! Honk! Honk!

I wonder about the ambulance guys. Are they still yelling at the apologetic convertible driver with the pregnant wife? Do they even know I’m gone?

The road is downhill.

I roll through another intersection. I can’t get over how bizarre the situation is. Is it happening? That’s a question. Rolling through town on a stretcher is weirder than falling overboard, almost as weird as floating down a river of poop. My black dog, hanging over the edge of the stretcher with his tongue out, is certainly not real. I noticed him a while ago. He was in the other dream scenes too.

But this one is less dreamlike. My vision is clearer than before. I know I am on Boundary Road. I read the sign. Also, I’m wondering if this is a dream, which I didn’t before. Also, I’m scared, but my heart isn’t pounding through my chest. The dog is happy, which somehow takes the edge off my fear. Whether I’m imagining this scene or living it doesn’t matter. Whatever will be will be. Does this make sense? I can’t explain it any better.

People on foot and in cars gape at me. An old lady with a wheelie buggy cranes around, looking for a hidden camera.

“Help!” I shout, like I’m locked in a castle or tied to the railroad tracks. No one gallops up to save me. Where’s Prince Charming when you need him?

How long did I say this whole thing takes? A minute? It’s amazing how much can happen that quickly. Of course, when you think about it, everything happens in a minute. Birth, death, victory and defeat, revenge, dessert, tears and laughter, falling in love and falling down stairs, getting mugged, getting caught, getting mad — they all happen in a minute.

But a minute can also feel like a long, long, long time. One reason I’m not panicking is that I can’t stretch the panic feeling out. Can you imagine?

I’m gonna die! No, wait, I’m okay. But NOW I’m gonna die! No, still okay. Wait, THIS is it! Whew, I made it. Oh, but NOW …

I am not bored. But I’m getting used to living on a knife edge. When the voice behind me asks how I’m doing, I don’t scream.

“I’ve been better,” I say.

Now there’s a skateboarder beside me. That was the voice I heard. The boarder is older and fitter than me. Also less sweaty and wobbly than me when I skateboard. He’s got long dark hair and a bit of a moustache. I notice all this because, well, I’m going to pay attention to the guy saving my life. Every princess in distress will be able to describe every Prince Charming.

“Whoa!” he says, grabbing my stretcher to slow me down.

My saviour pushes ahead of me, hops off the board, and stops my stretcher with his body.

I’m not moving. After a long, scary, dangerous minute — the most dangerous of the day or maybe my whole life — the world around me is still and calm and beautiful.

Wow.

“Thanks!” I shout, as he pulls my stretcher to the curb and then up a ramp into an empty parking lot. “Thanks! Thanks!”

I am safe. For now.

Hey, where’d my dog go? He was just here. Now He’s gone. Huh.