November Sky Read Free Page A

was concerned, my viewpoint was completely normal for a twenty-six-year-old woman.
    I finally breathed easily when I saw a small pond glimmering through the trees. I knew that in just a few more minutes I’d reach the well-paved highway. I stepped on the gas.
    Out of the corner of my eye, I saw shadowy movement to the left of my car. I jammed on the brakes and gripped the steering wheel to keep my car in its lane. I came to a stop near the right side of the road. A deer stood in my headlights, rigid with fear. Its narrow head and big, staring eyes were turned in my direction. I killed the motor and wondered why in the world the animal didn’t keep going to the right and into the fir thicket, where it had obviously been headed. Then it dawned on me that my headlights had probably blinded it, so I turned them off. As soon as I did, the doe’s white rump disappeared into the underbrush in two huge leaps.
    It was only then that I realized I’d damn well come within a whisker of hitting a deer—and on a relatively cool May night at 1:30 a.m., in a pitch-black, eerie forest, with no cell phone reception and nobody on the road besides me.
    I shuddered at the idea of lying there injured or struggling through the dark on foot if I’d escaped from a crash unscathed but the car was immobilized. My heart beat as rapidly as if I were rushing through the woods. I tried to prevent my hands and feet from trembling and rolled down my window to get some air. A few deep breaths settled me down.
    Just as I was about to start my motor, I heard a deep, full roar that sounded faraway at first before it quickly grew louder. Headlights appeared in my rearview mirror, lighting up the car’s interior. I instantly realized that I was blocking part of the right-hand lane with no lights. Quick as a flash, I turned on the parking lights and heard the revving of a sports car’s engine as the driver saw my car, presumably at the last minute, swerved, and shot by me on the left. The streamlined fire-engine-red vehicle was traveling much too fast and started to fishtail. Its thin brake lights were on, but the driver couldn’t gain control. The taillights danced madly back and forth until the car snaked around the next sharp curve. After a dull bang, the obnoxious engine noise stopped, and it became disturbingly quiet.
    “Oh, my God!” I muttered, and started my compact car. I drove slowly and carefully around the bend, my mind racing with crazy, mixed-up thoughts. I had caused an accident and maybe injured people. I didn’t want to think the worst. Right after the long curve—where the forest ended and transitioned to field and meadow—the road straightened out. My headlights caught the red sports car. To my horror, it was lying on its roof in the ditch, its rear end pointing toward me. I recognized the American make by its stylized logo. I parked on the shoulder some distance away, and this time I had the presence of mind to turn on my hazard lights. I ran to the scene of the accident, filled with fear at what to expect inside the overturned car.
    Meanwhile, the clouds covering the night sky had moved on. The pale moonlight created a ghostly atmosphere. When I was several feet away from the car, a phantom hand pushed open the driver’s side door. I stayed still, shocked, and watched a man crawl out. He stood up and stretched himself to his full height, and then stared at the car. “What a fucking piece of shit!” he said, and then turned toward me. I was relieved. Apparently, nothing had happened to him, and judging by his actions, no one else was in the car.
    My common sense warned me not to get any nearer. I figured that from his point of view I was the reason his expensive, high-horsepower toy had shot off the road, turned a somersault, and was lying upside down in the ditch. I was afraid his anger and frustration would concentrate on me, and he’d lash out. I figured anyone who could afford a car like that must not have the sense to know