Take the Long Way Home Read Free Page A

disbelief. I wondered how many were in shock.
    Charlie, the guy in the hardhat and I were standing in front of the Timonium exit. The on and off ramps were choked with snarled traffic, too. A thick forest spread out beyond the southbound lane. To our right was a steep embankment. There was a chain link fence at the bottom that surrounded a trucking company. Frantic employees ran around in the parking lot, looking as confused as we were.
    A pretty redhead took a step towards us. She swallowed, made a choking noise, and then took off her shoes. I noticed that one of her heels was broken. She looked at us and said, “It’s like the end of the world.”
    We nodded. Charlie coughed.
    Then she padded away.
    In the distance, a lone siren wailed.
    “Sounds like the ambulance,” Charlie said.
    The guy in the hardhat grunted. “Guess that other fella was right. They’re gonna be busy.”
    The siren faded. Then another one took its place.
    It was mid-August and the late afternoon sun beat down on the blacktop, yet I suddenly felt very cold. Shivering, I gently rubbed my arms with my sore, bloody hands.
    We stood there, not knowing what to do next. Charlie and I called out for Craig, but he didn’t answer. In truth, I hadn’t really expected him to. I glanced back at the van once, looked at Hector, and then forced myself not to look anymore.
    The guy in the hardhat said nothing. I think he was too shocked to speak. He stood there and watched the employees in the parking lot of the trucking company below.
    The breeze kicked up. A traffic helicopter hovered overhead, surveying the damage. Then it flew further up the highway. Some of the crowd waved their arms and hollered at it, but the chopper didn’t return.
    Another young woman stumbled toward us through the wreckage. She only wore one shoe. Her other foot was bare, and her nylons were torn. Her blonde hair was mussed. Tears and mascara streamed down her face along with blood from her nose.
    “My baby,” she sobbed. “Please, somebody help me. I can’t find my baby!”
    Charlie stepped forward and gently put his hands on her shoulders. “Shhhh. It’ll be okay.”
    “Okay? My baby is missing! She’s not in the car.”
    “Where’s your vehicle?” Charlie asked, trying to calm her. “Take us to your car, and we’ll help you find your daughter.”
    She pointed. One car behind us—an undamaged, neon green Volkswagen Jetta. There was an infant’s car seat in the back. It was empty. Just like Craig’s seat had been. That was when I felt the first pangs of real fear.
    2
    “Her name is Britney,” the woman wailed. “I can’t find her.”
    “My wife’s missing,” a man shouted from the opposite lane. “Has anybody seen her?”
    “What’s she look like?” someone else hollered.
    “Brunette. Freckles. She’s pregnant! We were on our way to the hospital for a check-up.”
    Several people clustered around him, while Charlie led the crying woman back to her car.
    I thought about my own wife, Terri. No doubt the pile-up had already made the local news. She’d be worried, wondering if I was okay. I pulled out my cell phone and dialed the house. After a minute, I got a recording telling me that all lines were busy and to try my call again. Sighing in frustration, I stuffed the phone back into my pocket.
    The guy in the hardhat stuck out his hand. I held up my bleeding palms and shrugged. “Sorry. Don’t want to bleed on you.”
    “Appreciate that,” he laughed. “Frank Wieczynski.”
    “Steve Leiberman. Nice to meet you.”
    He nodded. “Yeah, you too. Shame it isn’t under better circumstances.”
    “Ain’t that the truth.” Cringing, I pulled a piece of gravel from my hand and smoothed a flap of loose skin over the cut. My mouth had finally quit bleeding. “Thanks for your help back there, Frank. I appreciate it. I guess it was shock or something that made me pass out like that.”
    He shrugged. “Don’t mention it. To be honest, I didn’t do much.