Looking Through Darkness Read Free Page A

with orientation clues. His life had been shrouded in curtains of gray since the accident that had made him legally blind. Being told his vision was worse than 20/200 meant he could only discern objects in daylight that were within twenty feet or less. Faces, even point blank, were just a blur, and his reading material these days was in Braille.
    He put away the clay sculpture of the antelope he’d been shaping with his hands, satisfied with the feel of the almost finished piece. After it was fired, he’d pack it up safely and deliver it to Director Nez at the tribal building.
    Exhausted, he turned out the light and walked to the living room, knowing by heart how many steps he needed to take and where everything was placed. During the day he could find his way around his furniture and other large possible obstacles, but at night, outside, everything disappeared into a yawning black void.
    He dreaded the night—the time when dreams came back to haunt him. Not yet ready to go to bed, he made himself comfortable in his leather easy chair and reached out to feel for the half-empty whiskey bottle he kept on the table beside it. The liquor was there to remind him that there were other demon-filled roads, some far worse than the one he traveled.
    He switched on the TV and listened to a sitcom. Comfortable, yet weary, he soon drifted to sleep and back into the world of the sighted.
    Unearthly, yet familiar dreamscapes unfolded before him.
    He was on the road, behind the wheel of his truck, tired, and struggling to stay awake. Out of nowhere, he saw the bright headlight beams coming up fast behind him, blinding in the rearview mirror.
    He pulled to the right, onto the shoulder of the road, taking his foot off the gas, giving the car behind him space to get around. There were two lanes in either direction and plenty of room.
    With his horn blaring, the driver hurtled past him, then pulled back to the right too soon, cutting Melvin off and slamming into the front end of the truck.
    At the impact, Melvin slammed on the brakes and fought for control. He saw the irrigation ditch beside the highway and steered left, trying to get away, but the car was shoving him inexorably to the right, tires shrieking.
    Desperate to avoid crashing into the guardrail, he yanked the steering wheel hard to the right and broke free from the car. Somehow he avoided the steel guardrail and shot through a metal gate. The impact ripped into the driver’s side door but didn’t slow him down. Melvin struggled to steer, to regain control, but nothing made any difference. As his pickup struck the water, an air bag went off, nearly breaking his eardrums and slamming him back into the seat. He pushed the bag away and tried to sit up as the truck began to sink.
    In the midst of the chaos, he saw the car roll, flip over the guardrail, then bounce into the water ahead of him, upside down.
    With ice-cold water rushing into the cab of his truck, Melvin fought desperately to release his seat belt. He had to get out. Blood flowed down his face and his eyes burned so badly he could barely see. Everything seemed to be covered in a thin red veil.
    The seat belt gave, but his leg was caught on something—the deflated air bag, he realized. He struggled, yanking at his pant leg with all his strength, and managed to free himself. Afraid of being pulled under as the truck continued to sink, he struggled out through the window and hauled himself onto the top of the cab. That’s when he saw the girl, knee-deep in water, struggling to reach him, holding out her hands.
    He was about to call out to her when his truck struck the bottom of the ditch. The impact knocked Melvin off the truck and into the current. He couldn’t swim. As blackness encompassed him, he felt the presence of death, sweet, warm, and so enticing he almost surrendered.
    It was the girl’s insistent cries that broke through to him. He couldn’t give up. He wasn’t ready to die.