The Road Home

Wind slammed the car like a rageful fist. Carly’s hands tightened around the water bottle in her lap, and she clenched her teeth together, biting back the ever-so-tempting words, “Drive carefully.”

Bobby, her husband, had his hands firmly on the wheel, eyes straight ahead, locked in. He was already driving as carefully as he would, twisting through the dark highway, combating the wind and rain. She could feel the car shaking against the storm.

“Want me to turn on a podcast?” The words came out before Carly could stop them, small and weak. A desperate reach for connection.

“If it helps you get through this,” he replied. 

Carly made no move. She didn’t really want to listen to a podcast. She wanted to talk with him—or better yet, for him to talk. She wanted his voice to combat the rain as it splattered the windshield in thick, heavy sheets. 

And she wanted him to slow down, even though he was already going half the speed limit.

She watched Bobby, his face dim in the light of the car dashboard. He really was a handsome man, even with his jaw tight and his thick brows furrowed—

Before she could turn to see, it happened. Somehow, a bright light appeared at her side. Then, a deafening crunch. A sickening, gut-wrenching jerk of momentum blurred the road outside the windshield, throwing Carly against her door, the seatbelt ripping at her neck. The wet road screamed beneath them until it hurled them into the earth beside the highway.

The world was a bit tilted for a while. Carly felt… afraid.

She didn’t realize she’d lost consciousness until she was blinking against bright headlights, the world slowly piecing together from shadows. It was still raining, but lighter now. They were facing the wrong way on the highway, red and blue lights glittering, and an ambulance siren was growing in the distance. That’s when she heard Bobby, his voice haggard.

“Carly! Are you alright?”

“I’m okay,” she found herself replying.

“Are you sure? Are you sure you’re alright?” Bobby’s voice was so desperately caring that it brought her to full consciousness. 

“Yes, I’m sure I’m alright,” she said. There wasn’t any pain in any part of her body. No blood. Not even a scratch. The airbags hadn’t even deployed.

“You’re not broken or bleeding? God, Carly, you were out! I thought you were—”

Carly couldn’t tear her gaze away from him. Were those tears welling up in his eyes? “Bobby, I’m okay,” she said, sitting up toward him. “I’m not hurt at all.”

In a moment, she found herself wrapped in his arms, her face pressed against his chest. Bobby never cried. Not at their wedding. Not when they fought. Not even at his brother’s funeral.

But he was crying now, his strong back shaking with it. Everything was happening so quickly.

“I thought I’d lost you,” he kept saying, and all she knew to do was hug him tight. She kissed his neck, then his lips, and he kissed her back hungrily. It felt so strange but glorious.

“I’m alright, Bobby, I promise,” she said. “We’re alright.”

And miraculously, it seemed they were. The EMTs examined them and didn’t find a scratch, shaking their heads in amazement. The other driver ended up in the back of the ambulance, their car a twisted, splintered mess after colliding with them. But Bobby and Carly’s car barely had a dent.

It didn’t make sense, but Carly didn’t need it to. She was beyond thankful to be alive.

The storm stopped shortly after, leaving an eerie quiet behind. The emergency lights flickered, but in the silence, they felt out of place. As the paramedics packed up and left, and the police officers finished taking their information, Bobby and Carly got back in their car, started it up, and drove into the night again towards home.

For a while, they drove in silence. Carly kept her gaze locked outside the window, watching the rain turn into a fine mist, her thoughts a tangle of what had just happened. She was having trouble sorting it. It was almost like the storm had fully passed, though not fully. Remnants lingered, itching at her.

Something wasn’t quite… right.

“Carly,” Bobby said eventually.

“Hmm?” She didn’t move her gaze from the windshield, worried that if she were to do so, another car would appear out of nowhere and smash them off the road.

“I need to tell you something,” he said. His voice was calm. 

“What is it?” she asked.

He was silent for a while. A long while. She was tempted to look over at him, but she couldn’t break her gaze away from the windshield. She wondered for a moment how long it would take for her to feel comfortable in the passenger seat of a car. Every turn in the road sent a lurch of terror through her bloodstream.

“I don’t think we made it,” Bobby blurted out.

His words hung in the air between them. For a moment, she didn’t understand. She waited for him to continue, but he didn’t. “What do you mean?” she prodded. 

Bobby cleared his throat and from the corner of her eye, she watched him readjust his hands on the wheel. His knuckles were white.

“I mean,” he started, then paused, then took a deep breath. “Carly, we didn’t make it out of that crash. We didn’t survive. We’re… we’re in that ambulance right now, headed for the hospital.”

Her heart fluttered, breath catching in her throat. She frowned out the windshield, staring at the mist of the night, watching as the headlights caught on puddles in the road. “What are you talking about?”

Bobby shook his head slowly, running his hands along the wheel. She could feel the exhaustion leaking off of him—no, more than exhausted. She glanced at him. He looked defeated.

“Listen to me,” he said. “I don’t know how, but I know it. The ambulance, the lights... the way you wouldn’t wake up. You’re not conscious, Carly. Maybe you’re even dead, I don’t know. Both of us probably are.”

She shook her head. “Stop it, Bobby, you’re not making sense. Can you please just be quiet and drive us home?”

“I don’t think we’re going to make it home,” he said. “Right now, we’re just living out our imagination—we’re doing what we wish had happened. But it’s… it’s not real. Carly, I don't think this is real.”

“Bobby, you’re scaring me.”

“I’m not trying to—”

“Listen,” she snapped. “We’re both shaken up. That was terrifying what just happened. Neither of us is thinking straight or in a good mood. The EMTs said we were fine, so we’re fine. Let’s just drive home, get some sleep, and talk about it tomorrow.”

Bobby was quiet, and the quietness settled into hollowness. She knew she wasn’t just shaken up. Something inside her was… unsettled. Terrified. There was no logical reason for it. They were fine. They were both fine. When they got a full night’s rest, he would see that. 

But as Bobby continued to drive and as Carly continued to watch the road out in front of them, everything became unnaturally similar. Were the turns mirrors of each other, or was it her imagination? Tree shapes started to repeat, and the mist formed drops on the windshield in identical patterns. But that wasn’t possible. She blinked, and they were gone. Bobby’s strange exhaustion was getting to her.

Bobby stretched out a hand, eyes locked on the road but fingers searching for hers in the dark. She grabbed him with both hands, holding his hand tight in her lap.

“I love you, Carly,” he said. 

Carly blinked back tears. “I love you,” she whispered. 

“I’m happy I’m with you.” He glanced between her and the empty road. “I’m so happy I get to spend my life with you.”

“Me, too. Want me to turn on a podcast?” Her voice was garbled with tears.

Bobby’s fingers tightened around hers. “If it helps you get through this.”

This time, it did. She clicked on her phone and cued up their favorite comedy show. They listened for hours, driving peacefully through the night towards home.

Perhaps she imagined it, but it seemed no matter how many times she glanced at them, the clock on the dashboard was locked at 12:04 am, and the gas meter never went down.