Trapped

“Trapped”

The balmy midnight calm was suddenly shattered by the sounds of a horrendous crash and a deathly scream. Hard metal and glass screeched agonizingly against pavement, followed by the crackling and smashing sound of trees being uplifted, broken and crushed as though a tractor had been set loose on the land. The scream resonated through the heart of the scrubland on the outskirts of Deep Creek, Eleuthera; it was a chilling, ghastly and death defying sound that echoed through the land.

This was the horrific prelude to me finding myself hopelessly pinned under my jeep deep in dense bushes in pervasive darkness. I could hear the four tires on my jeep feverishly spinning to a chilling stop and then an eerie, deathly silence, which only the dead of night can bring on, surrounded me. The smell of upturned dry earth and the disturbed green underbrush scorched my nostrils. The moment was so surreal that I felt as though I was effortlessly floating in space without any care, worry or pain.
“Help was surely on the way because my loud horrific crash would have surely raised the dead,” I pondered.
The darkness enveloped me like a thick blanket and the silence pierced the still night air like heavy jelly. Despair then set in like a dagger, as I recalled the vast distance I had crashed away from the main road and the persistent, irritating thought that I would not be found until morning, which was five hours away. I desperately tried to crawl out from under the overturned jeep, but I could barely move. It was useless; I was pinned tight with my back against the barren, damp topsoil staring at the darkness of outer space and the flickering night stars. The wet night 'draft' fell placidly onto my face and further dampened the terrifying moment. There was a house not too far away from where I had ended up and my hope was that the occupants had heard the deafening crash. I just had to sit tight and wait this one out.
“It is unbelievable that I can die here,” I dotingly thought to myself.
“I am only thirty-four and in the prime of my life; I am far too young to die. Lord help me,” I feverishly prayed.
“Forgive me for all the wrong things that I have done. Save me tonight and I will live a Christian life serving you forever. Please rescue me Lord and I will go to church every Sunday,” I fervently continued.
Suddenly I stopped my pandering because I realized that I had now become what I had despised all my life; a modern day Pharisee 'sucking up' to the good Lord, and I knew full well that I worked most Sundays.
“Lord forgive me,” I agonizingly muttered.

I strained to listen for any sound of life or rescue, but alas, only the thick silence of the underbrush answered me. All of a sudden a cricket lamented nearby and a cicada joined in the chorus with a sharp piercing song of life. I heard a crab slowly crawling a short distance away. It reminded me of the many crabbing trips I had undertaken and how I had been listening for crabs in the short grassy areas of this same road I had crashed on. A dog started to bark nearby. These sounds of life cheered me up and refreshed me tremendously.
“Whew! What a relief. I am not alone in this bush,” I bravely asserted.
All of life’s huge complexities now only amounted to mere trivialities in my eyesight.
My lifestyle of working from 8 a.m. to 12 midnight now amounted to nothing.
“If I was paralyzed I would not be able to work and if I died, wait, God forbid, I need to stop thinking like this”, I muttered to myself.
I started to think of more pleasant things. I suddenly remembered the church bell in the Anglican church nearby our house tolling every midday. It would ring twelve times. I also remembered the church bell tolling whenever a church member died to commemorate each year that the person had lived.
“Here I was thinking of death again,” I said nonchalantly.
Then I remembered the time I had gone diving conchs with my brother Ray. We were not far away from the Cape Eleuthera coastline and he was trying to get me to dive up a single conch. I entered the water, donned a goggle and snorkel and swam about eyeing the bottom of the sea. Ray dove down and pointed out some conchs to me. I thought to myself, “Boy, that’s a great distance to dive.”
Then I really tried to dive under the water but I just could not go far under the surface. I tried again and again until Ray with disappointment in his eyes said that I had better go back into the boat. He then went into shallower waters and I embarked again on my epic task of diving up one conch. But for the life of me, I just could not push my body very far underwater. The day ended with me failing my task miserably, but these were the good times.

I stared aimlessly into the ever expanding universe and marveled at its awesome beauty. What would I give to be nestled snug in my bed at this hour of night. All of my worries now dissipated into thin air. How ironic it seemed that only a tragic experience like this could empower me to fully recognize and appreciate the small things in life, which I willfully ignored daily due to my life’s constant hustle and bustle. Then one of the stars started to move.
“It has to be a plane,” I surmised.
But it moved like no plane could move.
“It must be a helicopter,” I thought reassuringly to myself.
However, it moved too fast and was too erratic. My heart froze. The light was headed straight for me. It had to be a UFO coming to get me. I was terrified because I knew part of The Bahamas was in the dreaded Bermuda Triangle. This thing was coming to get me. I cowered as best as I could as the light drew nearer and nearer and got bigger and bigger. Then surprisingly it just vanished and my heartbeat returned to normal.
"I must have dozed off," I thought to myself.

“Wait a minute; I can hear someone or something. It sounds like footsteps. Now I can leave this forsaken place and get back to my daily grind. God has answered my prayers. What will I wear to work tomorrow and what will I carry for lunch,” I optimistically pondered.
“Hey,” I desperately yelled. “I am over here. Help me.”
I could hear the person slowly walking as the underbrush crackled with each approaching, cautious step. Suddenly the bright beam of a flashlight illuminated my eyes.
“It must be someone from the house nearby. What took him/her so long?” I thought to myself.
“Stop shining that light in my face boy. You’re killing me!” I emphatically yelled.
“Why is this person not answering me? Why is he not helping me? Who is this fool? He must be deaf or retarded,” I angrily surmised.
The light wandered off and then I heard a distressing sound. It was the sound of hasty footsteps retreating.
“The person must have gone for help,” I said reassuringly to myself.

My whole life now flashed before my eyes. Suddenly, I was in the Wemyss Bight Primary School yard playing softball. Then I was at the Preston Albury High School chairing the graduation ceremony. Then I was in Europe studying to obtain my bachelors degree. Finally, I was home and working late at the Cape Eleuthera Marina, which I proudly managed. In fact I was just planning a beauty pageant for the the local Deep Creek Association. I would have to put these plans on hold until I got better. Who would have ever thought that I would be in this position tonight. All of the hazardous roads I had driven in America and in Europe to only end up here trapped and alone after a horrible accident. I now vividly remembered how my brother Clement had been involved in at least two accidents where he had crashed deep into bushes off the main road and boy how I had lectured him about speeding and safe driving. In fact, I was the one who had said to him, prophetically it now seemed, “If you continue your nonsense you will end up dead some day.”
I knew that Clement would certainly remind me of these comments and generally have a mouthful for me.
“Wait until I see Ray my brother,” I thought to myself.
He will say, “Well mudders. Girl you run a mile through the bush.”
Then despair slowly set in again as the hours ticked slowly by. My head started to spin, it felt really bloated. I must have struck my head hard during the crash; I could not think straight. Death was something I did not want to think about, but it always came creeping into my mind. Then I heard a strange sound that frightened the living daylights out of me. It was the rasping unnatural sound of someone or something struggling heavily to breathe. Agitated I screamed out, “Who or what is in this bush with me?”
Where was that dreadful, deathly breathing sound emanating from? My hairs stood erect on my neck as I tried to silently move my head to survey the impending danger. I held my breath and the sound then escalated to a mere continuous hiss, like steam escaping from a pressure cooker on a hot stove. It was then that I came to the frightening realization that these sounds were escaping from my body. Terror now set in.
“Where is the help that I so desperately need? If my family only knew of my unfortunate condition, I am sure they would rush here in a heartbeat,” I grumbled.
“God forgive me”, I now started to pray in earnest. Then I said a quick Hail Mary prayer to end it, as my Catholic upbringing erupted.

Then all of a sudden all hell broke loose. I heard the roaring of fast approaching vehicles. They screeched to a resounding halt nearby. Hurried footsteps approached me as many searching lights illuminated the dark undergrowth as though it was day. Excited voices erupted,
“It’s Kenny.”
“Call Mrs. Thompson now.”
“Is she dead? Lift the jeep.”
“Call Clement.”
“Did anyone call for the ambulance?”
Many more commands, comments and questions rang out as footsteps scampered to get in place to save me. I sighed a deep sigh of relief and happiness. Thank God my prayers were finally answered. A great burden left me; it was as if the weight of the whole world itself had physically been removed. I momentarily drifted off into peaceful unconsciousness, but I was not alarmed, but in fact relieved, because now help was here. Then the help surprisingly announced, “Do not move her. Wait on her family. Let the family come. Do not touch her.”
“Wait, What? Are you guys serious? You have to rush me to the clinic now. I am dying here,” I hysterically screamed.
But none of them heard me. They gathered around me and eyed me as though I was their prized possession that had to be protected. More cars screeched to a halt and more agitated spectators flanked me. The women were sobbing uncontrollably and the men were dazed and flabbergasted. I then knew their unspoken code.
“If you move her and something happens the family will hold you responsible,” they silently asserted.
My sentiments were that if they did nothing I would surely die in this forsaken bush. In my case local politics took precedent over the ‘Good Samaritan Law’.
Some brave woman touched my face.
“She is still warm,” she shouted. “Let’s carry her to the clinic.”
“Do not touch her,” the spokesperson shouted. “Wait for the family to come,” he firmly reiterated.
Then confusion surfaced as some people wanted to move me and some persons insisted on waiting for my family. I was caught right in the middle of it.
“What a time for a squabble?” I mused.
Some brave woman shouted, “We cannot stand here and watch Miss Lean daughter die.”
My mother was named Earlene and she was a local icon of sorts in South Eleuthera.
Another voice shouted, “Do you want to take responsibility for Kenny if she dies when you move her?”
The brave woman answered, “She is certainly going to die out here. This is no place for anyone to die. If we move her now she may have a chance.”
“Do you want to explain that to her family?” the spokesperson countered.
My initial rescuer then started to join in the fray and complicated matters even more. He was explaining that he had gone to get help but could not get it because he was unable to immediately awaken the local policeman. Then the why questions erupted and the bush became a local fish-market of sorts.

Suddenly I sensed that my family had arrived. The crowd became silent and magically parted to allow the panicking entourage passageway. There were now hundreds of people packed into this little area surrounding the scene of the accident. That is how accidents were handled on our island. They acted as magnets to draw eager, curious, silent and horrified onlookers. Everyone waited in bated anticipation for the reaction of my family members as they rushed nervously through the brush hoping and praying that all was not lost. What will the family say? What will the family do? Everyone strained in exuberant expectation. When my family saw me lying there motionless on the ground they screamed in horror and disbelief. My mom tapped my face and called my name, but I was totally out of it at this stage. She sat on the ground and eased my head into her lap and said, “Pray Kenny, pray.”
“What’s the fuss mom. I have already prayed,” I dazedly said to myself.
“What happened?” my family asked in unison. The local policeman now pompously took charge of the situation and said that Kenny had fallen asleep, run off the road and hit an embankment. This had caused the jeep to overturn as it slid across the street deep into bushes on the other side. Kenny had been partly ejected from the vehicle and half of her body had come to rest under it. A local citizen who lived nearby had found her and had come to get him and others. They had removed the jeep and were awaiting the ambulance.
“Where is the ambulance?” Clement my brother asked.
There was a resounding silence to this question at first. Then the policeman said that it was on the way. The ambulance was stationed some thirty miles away.
“Mom we have to take her to the clinic in Rock Sound, now,” Clement insisted. We cannot wait on the ambulance. Enough time has been wasted.”
He gingerly picked me up and as my head rested on his shoulders darkness totally engulfed me.