Core Beliefs - Chapter 33 - Crushed

Core Beliefs – Chapter 33 - Crushed

Thick layers of ice coated the windows of Matt’s Buick. It took thirty minutes of defrosting and scraping before he pulled out of the empty parking lot.

The weather had deteriorated, adding new layers of ice to the roads. Matt listened to the radio for traffic reports, hearing of new wrecks and power outages throughout the city. Traffic stalled in places.

Matt decided to try the freeway. There were no reports of wrecks on the stretch he would drive, and he hoped the crews had done a better job of keeping it sanded.

He eased onto the entrance ramp and, with some wheel spin, gained the main road. There was more traffic than anticipated, but it was moving slowly. That suited Matt. Today, speed was the last thing he was looking for. He drove a few miles; all seemed well.

Switching into the middle of the three-lane freeway, he watched vehicles shuffling forward and back in the lanes on either side, with Matt sandwiched between two semi-trucks as they all topped the crest of an overpass.

The rig on his left was a flatbed carrying a load of steel pipe, and on the right, an eighteen-wheeler container carrier.

The drive had been incident-free. Matt had just sighed in relief. Brake lights illuminated, and suddenly, Matt sensed bad stuff was about to go down.

The truck on his right tried to brake and started skidding, its rear end sliding toward him. Matt tapped his brakes, but his tires skated on black ice.

Eyes on the container truck, he edged left, his tires continuing their slippery, gripless slide. The downward angle of the overpass steepened, and, like it or not, his speed picked up as gravity took control.

Suddenly, the pipe truck veered his way. Brakelights flashed in panic. Boxed in with no place to go, his car skated as he wished for any fraction of traction. Matt watched the pipe truck lung hard. The tail of the container trailer whomped the right side of Matt’s car, sending his Buick into a spin.

The out-of-control pipe truck plowed into the back of the wrecked vehicles in front of it before the cab skidded sideways into the guardrail, plowing half through as it lurched to a stop. The rear of the pipe carrier trailer whipped into the grill and hood of Matt’s spinning car. The chains holding the pipes snapped.

‘No escape,’ Matt stared as twenty tons of thirty-foot lengths of thick-walled steel pipe slammed his windshield and roof.

There was no time to pray or curse. Matt’s last thought and word: “Ling.”

***

Four and a half hours later, at 7:30 p.m., the phone rang at Joe’s home.

“Mr. Lehman, I’m Sergeant Latimer of the St. Louis Police Department. Sir, do you know a Matthew Lehman, and if so, is he a relative?”

“Yes,” Joe said, “he’s, my brother. Why are you calling?” Joe’s gut clenched, and he knew something horrible had happened.

“Does Mr. Matthew Lehman have any relatives in the St. Louis area?”

“No?” Joe said, his voice already ramping with urgency.

“Sir, I regret to inform you that Mr. Lehman was involved in a serious accident today in St. Louis and is currently in critical condition at a local hospital.”

“Due to current road conditions,” the policeman’s voice changed timbre, almost sounding like a recording, “we are discouraging travel until conditions are safe.”

The officer continued in a dry, unemotional voice, “Mr. Lehman was transported to St Lemmon’s Hospital. You can check with the hospital for further information.”

Joe slumped against the wall, his hands shaking, tears budding as the lifeless words droned from the phone.

The officer offered no encouragement, no info on Matt’s condition.

“How did the accident happen?” Joe gushed.

“As I understand,” Officer Latimer’s voice softened, “there was a multi-car accident on the interstate. Steel pipes from a semi dislodged and crushed Mr. Mathew Lehman’s car.

“Mr. Lehman, the report indicates that first responders worked over two hours to move the pipe and cut the car away, allowing transport to the hospital. They transferred him as quickly as possible, but the weather conditions played havoc with logistics.” It was the first time the officer had sounded human.

“Thank you,” Joe said as horrifying despair enveloped his soul. He couldn’t remember if he’d said goodbye or if the line had just disconnected. Joe realized he still held the phone. Trembling, he set the phone on its stand and called Cynthia.

She was there in seconds, and fearfully Joe repeated the officer’s words. Overwhelmed, he started sliding down the wall. Cynthia gripped his arm and led him to a chair.

“We have to call the hospital,” she said.

Her eyes were filled with worry, but her voice was firm. “They didn’t say Matt was dead. We have to call!”

He realized she was right. He called the hospital and asked for information about Matt. The hospital operator transferred Joe to the critical care unit. The nurse answering the phone asked for verification that he was a relative. Once she was satisfied, “I regret to inform you that Mr. Lehman’s condition is highly critical. He is currently on life support, and there is little chance of survival.”

“Could I talk with a doctor?” Joe asked.

“I’m sorry,” the reply seemed curt, “all staff are occupied at this time.”

The line disconnected in Joe’s ear. Devastation crept through him.

“They don’t think he’ll make it,” he said.

Cynthia went stiff. “They may not have hope,” she peered into his eyes, “but I have hope. I will not give up, and neither will you, Joseph Lehman.”

Her words were angry and strong, and Joe drew strength from them.

“We have people to reach,” Cynthia commanded. “We must let them know what’s happened.”

She called Doug and Charley, while Joe called Chris Martin and then Eldridge.

***

Chris hung up the phone. Charlotte stared at him. She’d heard every word, her face taunt in disbelief.

“Why! Why!” The words tremble on her lips. “Not right! Can’t be real!”

Chris had never seen her so shaken.

“He’s alive. That’s all we really know,” Chris tried to console her, “and we have responsibilities to fulfill.”

“What do I need to do?” Charlotte stiffened and stared at her husband.

“Get packed, call Marcy, and see if they can watch Jacob and Janet. I have calls to make.”

Chris knew who to call first. Ling.

Ling answered the phone. Chris barely got the words “Matt” and “accident” out of his mouth before she flew into hysterics. He tried to calm her, but the more they talked, the more he could hear Ling coming unglued.

Ling plunged into a crazed rant. Chris couldn’t get her to stop long enough to let him speak. Charlotte stepped into the room and listened while he attempted to get Ling to be rational.

Charlotte snatched the phone from him and yelled, “Get a grip, you bitch!”

Chris scowled, “Have you lost your mind?” Never in their marriage had he heard her attack a friend like this.

Evidently, it got Ling’s attention, too. “What did you say!” Ling fired back.

“I told you to get a grip, you bitch!” Charlotte responded. “And if you’re going to wallow in your self-pity, then I have to wonder if you care about this man at all! The last I heard, he was alive. Now what are you going to do!”

There was silence for a few seconds before, coldly and calmly, Ling said, “I’m heading to St Louis, and if I see you there, I’m going to whip your ass!”

“I’ll be ready,” Charlotte responded, “St. Lemmon’s Hospital.” The phone went dead.

“Get ready,” Charlotte hissed at Chris. “Ice or hell’s frost, we’re off at first light.”

“What just happened!” Chris snapped. “Why did you treat Ling like that?”

Sadness filled Charlotte’s expression. “She needed a jumpstart. I didn’t want to do it, but it was the surest way to get her moving. I hope it doesn’t cost our friendship, but if it gets her to Matt and she can help, then I’ll accept that risk.”

Chris had one more call to make to Marcus Corush. He would be in the best position to notify the company people.