Summary of Chapter 1:

Archie Franklin was driving west from Texas across the Southwestern plains of the United States. Travelling well above posted speed limits, he careened off the highway to avoid hitting a deer. The deer escaped danger, Archie did not.

The Story Continues:

The car lunged and bucked like a living animal. If it were not for his seat belt and the irrefutable law of inertia, Archie might have been torn to pieces. At one point, though, the rear view mirror broke off and hit him on the forehead, causing blood to trickle into his eyes.

A moment later, one of the tires hit a low spot in the terrain and tossed the red car onto its top. It rocked back and forth a few times, then settled at an angle.

A warning from a film in driver's education nudged its way into Archie's mind. Never swerve to avoid animals. More accidents are caused in this manner than on icy roads.

Thanks, I'll keep that in mind.

Archie groaned as he looked at the mangled roof of the car. Yeah, this isn't good! Breathe in... breathe out... keep calm."

Archie touched the wound on his forehead. It was going to leave a nasty scar, but hoped it would soon scab over. His immediate concern was getting out of the wreckage. He grasped the seat belt holding him prisoner, tugged at it a few times, then stopped when he realized the release mechanism had been damaged.

Now what? The driver's window was still open, so Archie reached out and stroked sandy soil. It felt gritty beneath his fingertips, the sensation helping his concussed brain remain alert.

Archie called out for help, knowing as he did that his efforts would be in vain. Silence followed his cries, almost as though the air around him was eating his words and swallowing them into the bowels of the empty wasteland.

Finally, waves of exhaustion overcame Archie and he closed his eyes.

Time flowed like the slow trickling of sand through a car-sized hourglass, but Archie was only vaguely aware of its passage. He existed in a zone somewhere between awake and asleep. He was aware of being trapped under a heap of metal, and of a basic human need to be awake and fighting for his life. Archie was unable to do either.

*****

Morning dawned across the prairie, stirring Archie from sleep. His eyes fluttered open, and for a moment he was disoriented. He took a deep jagged breath as his predicament sank in. He tried, once more, to struggle against the seat belt, but it held firm.

Seriously, can't I get a break around here?

Archie didn't expect an answer, so was surprised to hear a strange scratching sound near his head.

Who are you? A chipmunk stuck his head in the open window. Little feet scratched at the sand and a small brown nose twitched.

Go get help, would you?

The small creature chattered back and then scampered away, no longer interested in the stranger. Archie smiled and began to squirm. He felt stiff and sore, but was relieved when he realized he could still move all his body parts. He looked at the window and mentally calculated his chances of escaping through the small opening.

Archie braced himself against the steering wheel and tried to twist free of his restraints. He had to find a way out of the car before the rising sun turned it into a sweltering oven. It was one thing to feel hot air blow across his face when he was going eighty miles-per-hour down the highway, and quite another to have to try and breathe it while hanging almost completely upside down.

Think, think... what do I need to do? Okay, first cut this seat belt... but what can I use?

Archie worked his hand into a pocket, and found nothing inside but coins and a fingernail clipper. Where was his pocket knife? Oh, yeah, in his luggage. Good place...

Wait, I've got it. There's plenty of broken glass from the rearview mirror that hit me in the head.

Taking a deep breath, Archie tore a piece of cloth from his shirt and wrapped it around a shard of glass. He took his homemade knife and began working on the offending strap. It took him several minutes of painful sawing, a process that garnered him a few nicks to his flesh, before it sliced through.

Unfettered, Archie pulled himself out of the window and onto gritty soil. He tried to stand, but found his body too stiff and sore to cooperate. He dropped back to the ground and stretched his arms and legs until he felt strength return. Then, Archie rolled onto his knees and sat up. He paused a moment to let his swirling head steady itself.

Archie touched the oozing scalp wound, then tore another strip of cloth off his shirt and used it as a bandage. He wasn't going to bleed to death, but exposure to the elements wasn't good, either.

Satisfied, Archie forced his aching legs to push off the ground, drawing a reluctant body behind. Good, necessary mobilty. He was no longer a helpless victim of the ruined car and merciless desert floor.

But where to? Archie couldn't see a road beyond the furrows formed by his hurtling car. He had no idea how far off the highway he had driven, and was too tired and sore to try to walk it back. He leaned against the car and looked around. To his surprise he could see an adobe building in the opposite direction of the road. Which way would bring survival? As depleted as he was, he knew he had the strength for only one choice.