The Guardian of Threshold Read Free Page A

you?” she asked politely.
    “My dad,” I said reluctantly. I could only imagine the kind of trouble I would be in after he found out.
    “We need to contact him. Can you call him?” She took out her notepad and started to take notes.
    I reached for my cell phone in my left pocket, but when I was just about to dial my dad’s number, the phone rang in my hands.
    “Dad?” I asked, surprised. “I need to tell you something—”
    “Are you okay? I’m watching you on the news right now!” he said. I’d never heard my dad sound so worried before.
    “Yes, thank God. I’m fine, but the police need to talk to you.” I was tempted to just pass the phone to the officer, afraid of what he would say to me.
    “I’m glad you’re all right. Don’t worry… everything will be fine. Please put the officer on.”
    “Sure.”
    Soon, I was completely surrounded by police, paramedics, and firefighters. Everyone seemed to be excited or at least amused by all the action. Against my wishes, the paramedics loaded me into the back of the ambulance to take me to the Lahey Clinic Medical Center emergency room. The ambulance took off, driving through the grass to avoid the traffic congestion I had created.
    When we arrived at the hospital, my dad was already outside waiting for the ambulance—he must have been in the area because there was no way he could’ve made it there from Stoneham with all that traffic. Apparently, he was still on the phone with the police officer, only putting down the phone when they unloaded me from the ambulance.
    “Are you okay?” he asked when he saw me being carried inside the hospital.
    “I’m fine, Dad. I guess they need to check me out just in case,” I said to calm him down.
    By the time I arrived in the hospital, the paramedics had already started an IV and some medicines. Even though I felt fairly fine, they told me not to move around much. It wasn’t long before a doctor came in to examine me. He introduced himself as Dr. Raymond. I tried to explain that I was fine, but it was useless. He ordered blood work, MRIs, and x-rays.
    After a couple hours of waiting around, I saw Dr. Raymond again. He walked in, chart in hand, sporting a bright smile.
    “I got good news and bad news,” he said. “Which one do you want first?”
    “I’ll take the good news.”
    “Well, you’re fine, and you can go home as soon as we finish processing your discharge papers.”
    “What’s the bad news?”
    “Bad news is that there’s an army of reporters waiting outside to hear from you. They aren’t sure if you’re a hero or a villain.”
    “Do I have to talk to them?”
    “You don’t have to. Besides, I wouldn’t worry too much about what they think. Anyone who can land an airplane on the interstate is a hero in my book. Best of luck to you.”
    After a painful injection in my butt and a couple signatures, the doctor discharged me. Apparently, the injection was for pain. I was just thankful the cut on my forehead didn’t require any stitches.
    We managed to escape most of the reporters by leaving through a staff door. Unfortunately, we left the hospital just in time for the rush hour. Traffic was the worst I’d ever seen, and it was entirely my fault. It was the first time I’d gotten stuck in traffic that I was the cause of.
    My dad turned on the radio. I was glad at least it filled the void and awkwardness in the air.
    “Your afternoon commute is bound to be a mess. Heavy traffic remains on both lanes of I-95 around the Burlington Mall exit because of an unusual crash. An airplane had to perform an emergency landing right on the interstate. It’s still unclear how long the cleanup will take,” said the traffic report.
    “That’s what I call an attention-getter.”
    I was so caught up in my own thoughts that I didn’t reply.
    As we passed the scene of the crash, the airplane was still in the exact same spot, surrounded by a bunch of guys wearing black jackets, backpacks, and baseball caps.