~ Coma Coast ~

by

Roberta DeCaprio

At a second light, she gazed up at the sky. Jules was flying up there somewhere. Finna thought back to the day she and Jules met. It was at the café on Cresent Street, when Jules dropped her high-calorie dessert on Finna’s new leather fisherman sandals. In conversation, Jules conveyed her philosophy... the no coincidence factor. The two were destined to meet... one owning a gallery, the other an artist.

She could imagine Jules loose in Paris. Coming to know the woman as she did, the first two days of the trip would be spent checking out the paintings, the rest of the time, the painter.

“Go for it, girl. But you better come back,” she whispered with a smile, and veered onto Old Coast Road.

She hated this road. While it was a great shortcut to the other side of the island by the light of day, it could be disastrous in the dark with its miles of sharp turns, slopes and no streetlights. While trying to find the cutoff back to the main boulevard she became tense remembering the stories she heard from the islanders claiming the dreary stretch as haunted or possessed. A chill ran down her spine as she anxiously glanced in the rear view mirror, almost expecting to see someone sitting in the back seat. What was wrong with her anyway? She was acting like a child spooked by a stupid legend, most likely made up to attract tourists.

“Focus, Finna,” she whispered to herself. “And find that cutoff.”

A light fog curled around the car. She turned down the high beams, hoping to improve her driving perception. All she wanted was to be home, safe and secure, in her 1830’s renovated carriage house. It was a small, quaint rental, furnished with thrift shop finds; but at the present, she longed for its comforts, eager to kick off the black heels that were persecuting her toes. It had been a long day. Hell, it had been a long week!

With one hand, she searched for the Beethoven CD left on the side console, hoping the comforting notes of her favorite piano concerto would take her mind off the sudden eerie sensation that washed over her. Finally finding the disk, she freed it from its container, and inserted it into the dashboard player, only glancing away from her driving for an instant.

With her gaze returning to the road, Finna was astounded to discover the mist parting around the figure of a woman beautifully dressed in a white gown. Boldly, the young female stood in the center of the desolate way, her raven tresses flowing to her waist, a vision so awesome it caught Finna’s breath.

In a heartbeat, all movement slowed. Finna’s own gasp sounded like it had come from someone else, as the bright light that shone from the lady momentarily blinded her. Spellbound and weightless, like a soaring seagull over the ocean, Finna felt herself being pulled into the scene before her. If not for the sudden blast of music from the dashboard player, the enchantment would have entirely taken her over.

The lethargy was instantly replaced by speed, and the sound of her own screams alerted her to swerve the car to avoid hitting the woman. The Toyota’s tire ran over a jagged rock on the side of the highway, the explosion ricocheting through the dead of night. Finna lost control of the car and did the worst thing possible; automatically her foot jammed on the brakes.

The old coupe became airborne before rolling several times down a slope, shattering the windows around her. Finna’s chin struck the steering wheel, and she bit her tongue, the copper taste of blood filling her mouth. The seatbelt kept her from being thrown, but not from being bounced. Her left shoulder smashed against the door, and her right knee hit the underside of the dashboard. The airbag failing to open left her no protection, and her chest hit the steering wheel. Pain cut through her.

“Oh, God!” she screamed. She was thrown sideways, cutting her head on a jagged piece of glass. Warm blood trickled down the left side of her face. Finally, the car came to rest on all four of its tires at the bottom of the embankment, its roof partially caved.

Smoke singed her lungs. Finna coughed. “I’ve got to get out of here,” she choked, fumbling with the seatbelt. The darkness of the barren vicinity surrounded her. “No one would find me here... not in time,” she cried. The one thing in life she hated most was being alone. She coughed again; the pain ripping through her chest brought her to tears.

“Why won’t this damn buckle release,” she screamed, her clumsy fingers clawing at the seatbelt that held her prisoner.

Within an instant, a bright light burst before her eyes. Had the car exploded? Or was this the eternal light her Christian grandmother spoke of... the light that would guide her down the tunnel, into the afterlife? Would she now see her life flashing before her eyes; all she’d experienced, all of her mistakes? And the cold that now overwhelmed her, that slowly seeped through her bones, was it the final giving up of her spirit?

“No,” she moaned.

Suddenly, the car door was ripped from its hinges. The strong aroma of gardenias accompanied a pair of arms that embraced her, gently lifted her from the seat, and placed her on the ground.

A woman knelt beside her, looking deep into her eyes, and spoke without words.

Finna began to tremble. How was she able to understand her? She opened her mouth to speak, but her lips were quickly hushed by the woman’s finger.

Save what little strength you have. Speak to me as I’m speaking to you. Her voice, soft and calm, entered Finna’s thoughts.

Finna swallowed hard, again tasting blood. The pain blurred her vision, and she responded by thinking her words. How... how, she stammered, is this possible?

How is not important, only that I have found you in time to right a terrible wrong that has been done. The woman leaned over Finna and gently stroked her face. You have been chosen.

Finna blinked several times; the trauma of the accident had her confused. How was she able to see through the woman’s visage, to the treetops above? Her gaze rested on two palms, the tops crossing each other, resembling lovers embracing. That thought comforted her in spite of the fact she was able to see through the woman’s form. Finna’s face contorted with the pain that percolated through her body. Chosen for what?

You will see soon enough, was the woman’s response. But for now, it is important your wounds are treated”

For some reason the CD player was still intact, playing Beethoven’s melody for Elyse. The composition performing solo on the piano meshed with her pain. Her eyes flickered, trying to focus on the woman’s features. I don’t understand any of this. Who are you?

The woman rose fluidly to her feet, looking down at Finna with serenely compelling eyes. We are interlaced, only you can right the wrong.

The crescendo of other symphonic instruments joined the piano; vibrations of the refrain filled the night. The climax of the piece added to her confusion. Right what wrong?

The lady slid gracefully away from her.

The sudden fear of being left alone pushed the words from her mouth. “Wait. Don’t go. Please don’t leave me here alone,” she pleaded.

Help is moments away, the woman reassured her with another soothing thought.

As the drama of the song concluded, the woman turned and walked silently into a cloud of fog that enveloped her elegant stature. The haze, swirling first around her ankles, rose up to swallow her.

Delicately the melody faded to a finish, along with Finna’s pain. There was a peace, a silence... then everything went black.

~ * ~

The night was still. Brice liked the stillness of the night. He sat on a large boulder at the edge of the road and absorbed the silence like a sponge. Why had he come here? Why did he feel he needed to return to a place that had brought him so much sorrow... destroyed his life, had taken the only woman he ever loved from him?

He pinched the bridge of his nose with a thumb and forefinger, and shook his head. The compulsion to make the journey was overwhelming; the pull so strong it woke him from his sleep, haunted him by day, and left him thinking of nothing else but making the pilgrimage. He was compelled to pay homage to her memory on the anniversary of her death.

He lifted his arm and pressed the light button on his watch. He should go. It was almost midnight, the very hour it had all happened. Slowly, he stood and made his way back to the car. His steps were heavy. Depression closed in like the fine blanket of mist that surrounded him. He thrust his hand into his pocket for the keys. Why had he bothered to lock the door? There wasn’t another soul around for miles.

A force of habit, he supposed. It was the routine, the norm, the condition in which he was accustomed. He went through all the motions of living, functioning each day on automatic. Nothing really made sense to him anymore, not even coming here. What had he expected? She wasn’t going to walk up and take him by the hand. No, that was never going to ensue. She was gone... gone from this world, gone from his life, forever.

He might as well go home to the empty beach house they once shared, and drink his rum until he couldn’t feel a thing. It was a remedy... not the best one, but the only one that helped him to endure the lonely nights.

He opened the car door and climbed into the seat, laying his head back against the neckrest, thinking of her smile. It was the part of her he loved the most, warm and reassuring. He yearned to kiss her sweet lips until they were pink and swollen with his love, inhaling the scent of gardenia that clung to her skin. He longed to experience the passion they shared, her warm body enclosing around his.

It was the chilling screech of tires echoing through the night that pulled him from his thoughts, alerting him to trouble in the opposite lane. He sat forward, watching in horror as the other vehicle spun and careened off the slope.

His eyes widened in astonishment. “Holy God, Almighty!”

The years of being an emergency room doctor thrust him into action. Abandoning his own auto, he barreled down the incline as fast as his legs would carry him. The car at the bottom of the embankment, balanced on all four of its tires, had a crushed roof and was on fire. Immediately, he looked inside the car for the driver, but instead he found her lying on the ground like a broken doll. Quickly, he assessed her wounds: forehead bleeding, the right knee badly bruised.

By all the rules of medicine, he knew she shouldn’t be moved without securing the back and neck, in case of a spinal cord injury. But the car was ablaze, and she was too close in case it exploded. He braced her neck in the crux of his elbow; brought his other arm under her legs, and took her to a safe distance from the burning vehicle. Then, he reached into his jacket pocket, pulled out his cell phone, and dialed 911.

“Henderson,” the dispatch answered. “What’s your trouble?”

“An accident... on Old Coast Road.”

“Are you able to pinpoint the location?”

Brice quickly assessed his position. “I’d say two miles south of the Central Boulevard cutoff. I need an ambulance, stat!”

“Will do, we’re on our way.”

Brice took her pulse. It was rapid, her flesh cool and clammy. She was in shock. Normally, the feet should be elevated, but she had a head wound. He removed his jacket and covered her, then pulled a hanky from his pants pocket and applied pressure to the gash across her forehead. She began to shake, and, from her groans, he knew she was in pain. Her eyes fluttered open.

Brice brought his mouth down to her ear. “It’s okay,” he consoled, pulling aside a long, bloody strand of hair that stuck to her cheek. “I’m Dr. Lang. I’ve called 911, help is on the way.” Her face twisted with agony. “Who are you?” he asked, trying to establish how coherent she was.

“Finna,” she choked.

“Just be still, Finna. As soon as the ambulance arrives, I’ll administer something for the pain.”

“Where is the... the…” she stammered with a shaky voice.

He brought the jacket up around her shoulders. “Stay calm, everything will be fine.”

She closed her eyes, but Brice continued to talk, comforting her with a soft voice. Somewhere in the distance the ambulance siren pierced the quiet of the night.