#8 Like Gods Of The Sun
Mike had no idea how long he reclined in the crushing darkness. He’d been driving on an old desert highway under a sky full of stars, both music and spirits loud and high. There’d been a flash of something white, some desert fox or hare, and he’d jerked the wheel.
He hung in the inverted wreckage with the weight of the vehicle crushing down on him. The dashboard and steering column pressed down on his chest and made it difficult do anything more than take shallow breaths. He couldn’t tell how wounded he was. Couldn’t move to look at himself or use his arms to feel over his body to check for damage. Couldn’t see anything at all.
Worst of all was the silence.
The car was dead in more ways than one–not a sound escaped it. No ticking from the engine, no sounds from the dead electronics, not even a steady drip as the car’s fluids bled out of it.
Just silence. Beyond it, the quiet desert pressed in, broken only when a hunted animal cried out in surprise.
I’m going to die here, he thought. It might be days before someone found him.
He passed out in the darkness a few painful hours later.
It wasn’t yet dawn on the next morning when help found him. He woke to the sound of saws cutting metal. Delerium met him as he swam up into consciousness.
Light blazed into the wreckage and stung Mike’s eyes as rescuers cut free the last piece. The head lamps they wore brought the warmth of hope, like gods of the sun.