Chapter 12 — Thirty Minutes

Andrew came to fuller awareness that evening. When a nurse told him four days had passed, he turned his face slowly toward the wall.

He remembered the truck sliding, the windshield filling with branches and muddy water, forcing the driver’s door open because he was sure the cab would flood.

After that his memories came only in fragments — crawling through mud, hearing cars pass overhead, shouting until his voice gave out, waking each time the rain struck his face.

He had assumed Ella would ask a neighbor for help if he didn’t come back. Then he realized he had never taught her which neighbor she could trust.

He’d taught her to dial 911, but mounted the wall phone too high for her to reach.

He’d left food in the refrigerator without knowing most of it had already gone bad.