~ Duo Of Opposites ~

by

Lynette Hall Hampton

It was just past midnight and Amy Cunningham knew if she didn’t come across a motel soon there’d be nothing left to do except pull off the road and take a nap. In a span of minutes, she’d tried all the tricks she could think of to fight off the persistent drowsiness. She talked to herself, turned on the radio, opened the window, chewed gum and constantly rubbed the back of her neck. None of it helped. Her eyes continued to grow heavier with each passing mile.

“Just keep looking for a motel sign,” she said aloud as she came to the bottom of another mountain and began the climb. “There’s got to be at least one place to sleep in this part of the Smokies.”

She edged her twelve-year-old Chevrolet toward the top of the incline with caution. Off to the right, night fog prevented a view of the steep cliffs, though silver guardrails positioned at strategic points left no doubt of their existence.

Near the top of the mountain the fog gathered into a big mass. Amy crept along for what seemed to be hours before it began to clear in patches. Only then did she realize she was beginning the descent. She tried to concentrate on her driving, but it was hopeless. As the car slipped in and out of the wispy whiteness, her weighted eyelids would stay open no longer.

Amy dozed off.

Under its own control, the car moved toward the edge of the road.

The moment the wheel left the pavement and touched dirt she was jarred awake. Instantly realizing her predicament, she jerked the steering wheel to the left. It was too quick. The car spun sideways and slid toward the back of a motorcycle, which was ahead of her.

The rider swerved the bike toward the inside embankment, hit the ditch and went down. Amy, busy fighting for control, had no time to wonder if the rider was hurt.

Instinctively, she jammed her foot on the brake and twisted the steering wheel in the opposite direction. Panic made her turn it too far. The front right tire dropped off the pavement and the car headed for the cliff.

Terror engulfed Amy as she tried to reverse the car’s direction. Her foot pawed for the brake, but slid instead to the accelerator. The car lurched forward—then paused against the guardrail.

She fumbled for the door, seeking escape, but there wasn’t enough time to get it open. The vehicle inched forward and Amy knew it was going over the side.

She heard herself screaming. “It can’t end this way.

Struggling against the odds, she managed to unfasten the seatbelt, but the door refused to budge.

“No,” she whimpered. “I can’t die like this. Oh, God! Please don’t let me die now.”

The prayer renewed her determination. She yanked once again at the handle. In seconds she felt herself fly through the air.

When she hit the ground she had no control over her body. It went limp, and she began to roll down the mountainside. There was little discomfort from the fall as the taste of blood and dirt filled her mouth.

In an automatic reaction, she groped for something solid and her fingers tightened around a small patch of weeds. They served only to stop her downward roll for a few seconds. Before she could turn from her back and get up, the growth pulled from the ground and she began to slide forward.

It seemed like a long time before she lunged into a huge boulder and came to a stop. Pain shot through her body.

Amy screamed—then collapsed.

The car continued its downward plunge for a few seconds. When it hit the bottom of the ravine, it exploded.

Semi-conscious, Amy watched the flames shoot into the air, but she didn’t connect them with herself. Neither did she understand what made her feel guilty as she watched.

“I’m sorry, Aunt Edith,” she muttered and waited for the older woman to begin one of those long lectures in the sinister tone she always used when Amy had disobeyed.

A few minutes passed before Amy heard a voice in the distance. It didn’t sound like her aunt. She waited until she heard it a second time.

“Is anyone down there?”

She moved her mouth to answer, but nothing came out. Confused, she tried to sit up. Dizziness overcame her and she slumped back against the rock. The pain of contact with the rough object brought an automatic groan. Recognizing the sound as her own, Amy knew she could speak if she tried hard enough.

“Help... Down here... Help...” she managed to call toward the voice.

There was no response from the caller. She forced herself to repeat the plea and hoped it was heard this time because she knew she couldn’t muster the strength to call again.

Time passed and she heard only wicked silence. No matter how hard she tried she couldn’t make herself utter another word. There was nothing more she could do. She closed her eyes and her mind drifted from reality.