The Passenger by Jacqueline Druga (the giving tree read aloud TXT) 📗

here for your truck, you told me I could take it,” Jonas barked. “You think maybe you could have told me before I walked here that I couldn’t. I talked to you on the phone.”

“And on the phone, I couldn’t smell the alcohol on your breath.”

Jonas huffed. “Oh, come on, it was one beer. I’m not drunk.”

Grant tried to stay calm and reasonable. “The last time I lent you my truck for a gig, you told me you got drunk.”

“And I said I was sorry.”

“I know.” Grant nodded. “You promised me, you promised you wouldn’t drink and drive.”

“It was one beer.”

“It’s still drinking and driving.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“No, you’re ridiculous, Jonas. It’s two in the afternoon.”

Jonas flung out his hand and stepped back. “I’m done.”

“Wait, how about this,” Grant spoke, walking to his son. “Why don’t I take you? I’d love to see you play. Maybe I can get up and jam with you guys. We’ll make a guys’ weekend out of it. What do you say?”

Jonas laughed. “I don’t want you there, Dad. I don’t want you up on stage.”

“Then … then I won’t go. I’ll only drive you.”

“Forget about it.”

“Jonas, you have to go to your gig.”

“Oh, I’m going.” Jonas stepped away.

“How are you going to get there?’

“Don’t worry about it.”

“Jonas …”

“I said,” he spat angrily. “Don’t worry about it. I’m not your problem anymore.”

It was a tough love card Grant didn’t like playing. He wavered a little but held tight. Now, he regretted it some. Finishing his juice, Grant started to go back to bed and stopped.

Maybe he was worrying too much or Cate was getting into his head, but Grant lifted her phone and immediately dialed Jonas.

He expected his son to answer the phone with irritation, what he didn’t expect was for it to go directly to voicemail.

He stared for a second at the phone but didn’t leave a message.

It was after three in the morning, more than likely Jonas’ phone was dead.

He was fine.

He felt a brief flutter of concern, but Grant tucked it away and went to bed.

FIVE

He knew he was in some sort of accident, but Jonas just didn’t know how or why it happened. He tried to think, but it was a blank. He didn’t feel any pain, none at all, maybe it was the shock. The only discomfort he had was when he blinked his eyes. He could feel the shards of glass across his lashes.

The car was upside down and Jonas was on his stomach, out of his seat. His belt was undone, he didn’t even remember unlocking it. His first awareness after the accident was this moment.

He could feel his eyes getting heavy and a strange pressure in his head. His vision blurred some. He could smell something. Was something burning? Fuel? He didn’t know. But Jonas was aware he had to get out of the car. The busted windshield would be his exit.

He could feel himself fading, but he knew he had to fight it.

Preparing to belly crawl out of the car, it hit him.

The man that got in the car with him.

Unless he was remembering wrong, there was a man.

Jonas couldn’t recall his name. Dan, Devon, David … It was something like that.

Was he all right? Hurt?

Quickly, Jonas turned his head to the passenger seat.

It was empty.

Fading …

Where did he go? Did he get out? The door wasn’t open.

Jonas didn’t assume the man crawled out, his first assumption was he was thrown, and Jonas panicked.

Thinking, ‘I have to get out. I have to get out’, Jonas reached forward and lifted his chest.

Fading ….

Blackness.

A sensational burning pain in his temple and instant headache caused Jonas to grunt loudly and open his eyes.

Now he was on his back, outside in the grass. He rolled to his side, wincing as another pain shot through his ribs. The wrecked car was twenty feet from him. He could see the small amount of dancing flames coming from where the engine would be. They were blue, not orange.

How did he get to the grass?

He only vaguely remembered being in the car. It was as if he had just woken up from a dream, one that faded quickly. He knew he wasn’t thrown because he knew he was in the car prior to passing out, he felt it, but he couldn’t recall climbing out.

He felt lucid now, aware, every moment before that was snuffing out fast.

One memory stayed strong.

The man in the car.

What was his name? What was his name? Jonas repeated in his mind.

David.

That was it.

It hurt so much to stand, but Jonas did. First to his knees, then using the slanted ground, he crawled until he was straight.

“David!” he yelled out. “Dave …” He cringed and grabbed his side.

Was he in the car? Jonas couldn’t remember if he saw the man still in the car. If he was, Jonas had to get him out. After all, how long would it be before the car would be totally engulfed in flames?

He staggered a few steps and felt lightheaded. The closer he walked to the car, the more of a tunnel vision it appeared.

His knees buckled ... he took a step …

Black again.

Jonas’ eyes opened fast to the loud sound of a truck going by.

Awake again.

Aware again.

The sound was close, too close, it vibrated against his chest as he lay on his stomach. He could feel a mixture of grass and gravel under his hand and a strong heat against his legs. Looking at his hand, Jonas noticed the orange glow. He rolled to his back and instantly panicked.

He was on an embankment, down the grade a good hundred feet was his car. It blazed wildly, smoke billowing up, flames sparking and shooting high.

Utter fear swept over Jonas in that instant. His body trembled and he was truly scared. There he was alone, on that hill, injured.

He felt tremendously hopeless.

It wasn’t dying that scared him, it was dying on that hillside and never being found. What it would do to his parents.

“Help!” He