Run, Boy, Run!

Flash Fiction: The Landslide

Run, Boy, Run!
Flash Fiction: The Landslide
by C.J. Heck

It was a while since Jack last felt his legs. They were pinned before the last helping of huge rocks fell on the car, sudden, sounding like giant potatoes dumped on a tin dinner plate ...

It was only ten minutes ago when Jack saw the boy walking in the breakdown lane. That was about the same time he heard the first warning rumble from above. When he saw heavy pebbles begin to rain down, he slowed, rolled the window down, and screamed at the boy:

“Landslide, Boy! Run, R U N !”

The boy was surprised, eyes wide like a fawn in the headlights, but he hadn’t run. Jack came to a full stop within a foot of the boy, and blew his horn until the frightened boy ran like Satan was chasing him!

Jack had no way of knowing, but he just traded his life for the life of the boy. Had he known, it wouldn’t have mattered. Jack wouldn’t have had it any other way.

The blaring horn put the boy in motion, but it also unleashed hell’s fury from above. In a matter of seconds, heavy boulders landed on the car. The weight of one blew the tires and collapsed the hood. Another shoved the engine inward and out of its way —-right onto Jack’s legs.

“Oh God, no … oh my God …”  Thankfully, Jack lost consciousness, escaping the pain.

When he came to, Jack thought he could still feel his toes and that was sadly comforting. It made him think of Jenny’s “Ten Little Piggies” song and the sweet way she sang it to Teddy at bath time.

“Will I see my boy again …? Stop! No time for that! I feel my toes; I have my arms; my mind … I can hold on for … for a rescue.”

Another load fell from above. Heavy, loud as thunder, it shook the car like a rag doll in place, there in the pitch black.

Jack held his breath as the car roof bellowed twice and split, sending dirt, huge rocks and heavy metal shards so sharp they peeled skin from his face and sliced into the back of his head.

Feeling nothing anymore, Jack ignored the warmth oozing down his face and the back of his neck.

…“I’m alive … a chance … please help …”

Suddenly, he heard the windshield implode and the glass impaled him in a dozen places. At the same time, with a ghostly shriek, the dash crumpled and collapsed inward inching the engine to the side and Jack could almost feel his legs … but no pain.  That was a blessing. He couldn’t have known, but they were severed mid-thigh and bleeding heavily.

Then with a metallic screech, like giant fingernails on a chalkboard, the steering column disengaged from the dash and reached for him, splitting his breastbone, slowly impaling him with a sickening wet crunch.

“ … uhhhhh air … help … please …”

More falling rocks and loose shards of windshield glass mercifully ended his last conscious thought …

“… thank … God … boy … ran …”

Poet/Writer/Author of 5 books.
Quora Top Writer 2018.
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