The Last Hour Read online

  Dedication

  To Andrea. For your courage and honesty and friendship.

  To Lelyana and the memory of David. You touched my heart.

  White (Carrie)

  “Will you leave me alone?” Jessica shouted at her twin in the back seat. The beginning of the end started with those five simple words.

  A screech of tires to our left, the truck coming at the driver’s side. Ray shouted a curse, Sarah screamed, and then the force of the impact was louder than any sound.

  In the movies, pivotal moments sometimes happen in slow motion; so you can appreciate every detail, wonder at the tragedy or awesomeness of the moment. Real life doesn’t happen like that at all: it happens all at once, your senses laid open bare, every single detail happening at once while your mind takes it all in, as if your skin and clothes had been ripped off.

  The radio played that infuriating Carly Rae Jepsen song, which Ray loved. Ray wore blue jeans and a grey t-shirt sporting the logo of a skull wearing a beret in front of crossed rifles, with the words “US Army Infantry” emblazoned above it. His left wrist bore the watch I bought him. He’d gotten a haircut three days before, short on the sides, what he called a “high and tight.” Now his left hand mimicked a phone on the side of his face as he belted out, off key, the lyrics to “Call Me Maybe.” The dashboard clock read 11:15.

  Behind him, Sarah sat, decked out in a black t-shirt, black pants and black eyeliner to match her black hair. She was turned away from her more conventional twin Jessica, her jaw set, angry.

  It was a cloudless August day, one hundred and two degrees outside, but in our car the air felt chilled and comfortable. We were driving down Connecticut Avenue, at the intersection with Tilden, on our way to the National Zoo.

  I saw it at the last second: a green Jeep SUV with Virginia plates, the grill chromed, gleaming, as it ran through the light and sped straight toward us. The Jeep had vanity license plates reading, “GR8 DAD.”

  Terror flooded through me, my gut twisting, my throat tightening up, dread at the back of my throat wiping out all thought. I didn’t have time to say anything, to scream, to respond, before it slammed into the side of our car.

  Ray’s head slammed against the glass, against the front of the Jeep, which seemed to be coming right through the driver’s side windows, and glass flew across the car, pelting me. The force jerked me to the right, hard, and everything went white as we slammed into another car.

  White.

  Formless images and thoughts, memories, drifted across a blank canvas.

  Ray in his deep blue dress uniform, his medals gleaming. He smiled our secret across to me, as Dylan and Alexandra kissed in the university chapel.

  The twins, Jessica and Sarah, in matching dresses, playing hide and seek in the upstairs of our house in San Francisco, giggling little girls, not yet locked in constant battle with each other.

  Ray again, his right arm in the air, beads of sweat on his forehead and dark circles under his eyes, as he swore an oath to tell the truth.

  Walking across the green at Columbia with my sister Alexandra last November when my eyes fell on Ray for the very first time. He was with her boyfriend Dylan on a beautiful fall day. Ray was a tall guy with short-cropped hair and an easy grin. His blue eyes arrested attention, and I couldn’t stop looking at him. We were both tongue-tied and awkward, but he had such an easy laugh.

  Months later, his arms around me, warm, safe, as I leaned my forehead against his shoulder and he whispered, “We’ll get through this. No matter what.”

  My eyes opened and locked on the two rings on my ring finger, the diamond and the tiny band decorated with sapphires. My entire body spasmed in pain, and I couldn’t move my head. Blood and glass sprinkled a pattern across my lap and on my hands.

  “Don’t move, miss,” a voice said, and I needed to scream, “I can’t move!” but nothing came out.

  The fear flooded back through me, and I tried to turn to see Ray and Sarah, but someone held my head in place as someone else strapped something around my neck. They eased me out of the car onto a stretcher. A sharp pain ran up my back, and then I was being wheeled away from the car.

  “Ray ... my sisters ... are they okay?” I tried to scream the words, but they came out a raw, tiny whisper.

  “We’re checking on the others right now, ma’am. Stay calm.”

  Stay calm. How? I was panting. Where was Ray? And the twins? I felt and heard a thump, and I was staring at the ceiling of the ambulance. Two emergency medical technicians were checking me over; one strapping something around my wrist while the other leaned close and asked, “Do you know where you are, ma’am?”

  I struggled to answer, fog clouding my thoughts. I wanted to clasp my hands together across my belly, but I’d been strapped down. My throat was raw, and it felt like my brain was working slowly. I had to concentrate to understand his words.

  “Washington,” I said. “We were on our way to the zoo. Where’s my husband? My sisters?”

  Even as I asked the question I hated the whine in my voice, but I had to know if Ray and the twins were all right. No one would answer my question, which just made me more afraid. The Jeep hit us on the driver’s side. Sarah had been sitting behind Ray. Was she okay? And Ray … my mind kept going back to the sight of him, his head bouncing off the high front end of the Jeep. I wanted to scream. I couldn’t think. I couldn’t breathe.

  “They’re working on getting the others out of the vehicle. We need you to stay calm, ma’am.”

  I screeched, “Where are they?”

  “They’re going to be fine, ma’am, stay calm, so we can get everyone taken care of.”

  I heard the doors shut, and it was darker inside the ambulance. Then we were rolling, and I heard the siren wail. From my position flat on my back, with my head and body immobilized, I couldn’t see much, only a rack of equipment and monitors. One of the EMTs stared at a monitor, reading off numbers to the other, who took notes. The ambulance hit a pothole, and I felt myself lurch, then we were slowing down, the horn blaring. It was so loud, my head hurt, and I was queasy.

  “Ma’am, I’m going to ask you some questions, it will save time when we get to the hospital.”

  “Yes,” I croaked. I searched with my eyes until I saw the EMT. He was dark skinned, his head shaven, wearing a dark green uniform. He looked confident.

  “Let’s start with your name?”

  “Carrie.” My voice shook. “Carrie ... uh ... Thompson-Sherman.” I closed my eyes. I must have hit my head harder than I thought. Fear ran through me again. Was Ray okay? Sarah and Jessica?

  “Okay, Carrie. I’m Jared,” the EMT said in a reassuring tone. “As far as we can tell, you’re in pretty good shape. A possible concussion, but no broken bones, no bleeding. We have your neck immobilized to protect against any spinal cord damage, but we’re sure you’ll be all right. I want you to stay relaxed.”

  I tried to nod and scratched out, “Relaxed.”

  I had to blink back tears. How the hell did they expect me to relax? I still saw the car in my mind, a huge green Jeep barreling down on us. Ray’s head slamming against the glass. The glass shattering, flying toward my face.

  “Good, Carrie. Now, can you tell me your age?”

  I had to think again. “Twenty-six. No. Twenty-seven.”

  “Are you taking any medications? Are there any medical conditions we should be concerned about?”

  “No,” I whispered.

  “Can you tell us who else was in the vehicle with you?”

  I stifled a sob. “Ray. And my sisters. Sarah and Jessica. They were visiting.” My voice trailed off and I paused before I spoke again. “They got here last night. From San Francisco. Is ... are ... are they okay?”

  �
��Everyone’s going to be fine, Carrie.”

  I tried to swallow. My throat was dry, swollen. We hit another bump, and my throat swelled with vomit. “Oh God,” I mumbled as the bile came up my throat.

  The EMTs rushed forward, and Jared ordered, “Suction.” Acid flooded my mouth, and I puked, and puked again, everything I’d eaten and drunk that day coming up in a huge rush as one of them stuck a tube in my mouth to suck it out, leaving me gagging, tears running down my face.

  I wanted to curl up and cry. I wanted to find Ray and my sisters. There was nothing I could do, but lay there gagging and smelling my own filth. My eyes rolled up, the noxious smell making me vomit again, as if there was anything left to expel. Finally, I whispered, “I think I’m done.”

  They just ignored me, and the one with the suction device continued for a few seconds more. My throat burned.

  Jared wiped some of the bile from my face with a sanitary wipe as the other EMT took away the suction. “Is there anyone we can call? Family?”

  I closed my eyes, trying not to groan.

  I answered the question. “Please ... call my sister, Alexandra.” Alexandra was my closest relative geographically, only a few hours away in New York. I gave him the number, and he wrote it down. The ambulance swayed and rocked, then another thump as we ran over yet another pothole. I closed my eyes, trying to ignore the nausea. I must have a concussion.

  I hoped they’d call Alexandra right away. Please God, don’t let Dylan be the one to answer the phone. He would know how to get a hold of Ray’s parents, but he would take some calming down. Dylan and Ray had served in Afghanistan together, and were as close as brothers. Closer.

  I was so scared.

  They’re working on getting the others out of the vehicle.

  What did that mean? How badly were they injured?

  I didn’t have any answers, and I felt darkness closing in, and I was so sleepy.

  “Ma’am ... you need to stay awake. You may have a concussion. Open your eyes.”

  I fought to open them and tried to speak. My throat was so dry I couldn’t do any more than croak. “You’ll call my sister?” I asked. “Please?”

  Jared put his hand on my shoulder. “We will. I promise.”

  “Thank you,” I whispered.

  It was the longest ride of my life.

  Are you the wife? (Carrie)

  “Ma’am, I’m the triage nurse. We’re going to check you over real quick, all right?” The nurse was younger than I was, but she exuded calm. The emergency room was crowded, and the gurney I lay on had been shoved up against a wall in the hallway. The cream-colored walls and abstract art were designed to soothe, but the equipment up and down the hall, the various beeping and alarms I could hear, and the efficient and hurried motion of nurses and doctors overrode that.

  “I need to know where Ray and my sisters are.”

  “I promise, we’ll find out. For right now, I need you to stay calm while I get your blood pressure and vitals, okay?”

  I nodded, and she slipped a blood pressure cuff up my arm and tightened the Velcro around it.

  “I need to ask you a couple of questions.” She pressed a button on a monitor and the blood pressure cuff began to expand, squeezing my arm. “Do you know what happened?”

  “Car accident.”

  “Okay, can you tell me what year it is?”

  I blinked then said, “2013.”

  “Okay, good. Do you know who the President is?” She met my eyes as she asked the question.

  I was getting impatient. “Barack Obama.”

  “Did you hit your head, or lose consciousness?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Little bit of bruising on the side of your face, it’s not bad,” she said. “Nausea?”

  I grimaced. I vomited in the ambulance, but that wasn’t even the first time today. “Yeah.”

  “Okay, we may need to send you up for a CT scan, the doctor will decide when he examines you. Let me get a look at your eyes.”

  My stomach twisted when she mentioned the CT scan.

  She shone a light in my left eye, then my right. “You look like you’re doing fine.”

  That was followed by listening to my chest with a stethoscope, then checking to make sure I could move my arms and legs and if my neck or back was sore. I seemed to be okay.

  “Can you sit up?”

  Slowly, I did, coming upright on the gurney, bracing myself for pain. There wasn’t any.

  “All right. The doctor will examine you, but it may be quite a while, they’ll want to examine more urgent cases first. Can I have your husband and sisters’ names? And in the meantime, we need to get you registered.”

  I gave her the information. My stomach was twisted in knots and my head was swimming. If I didn’t get some news about Ray and the girls soon I was going to scream. I didn’t even know if they were being brought to the same hospital. For that matter ... I didn’t even know where I was. What hospital is this?

  That was answered a moment later when someone from the emergency department came over with a clipboard full of paperwork for me to fill out. While I started the paperwork, my eyes kept going to a couple down the hall. They were sitting together on a gurney, leaning on each other, and the woman had blood on her forehead as they spoke with a nurse. Both of them looked panicked and exhausted. Devastated.

  I looked back down at my own paperwork, but my ears kept picking up words that sent chills up my spine.

  Accident.

  Daniel wasn’t wearing his seatbelt.

  Eight years old.

  Thrown from the car.

  I shuddered.

  I barely started on the paperwork before I stopped, because the doors to the emergency room slid open, and my heart rate jumped through the roof.

  What seemed like a small crowd of doctors, nurses and paramedics came running through the door, crowded around a gurney, they were racing down the hall toward the trauma unit. One look, and I was on my feet, suddenly lightheaded. Ray. I followed, racing down the hall behind them.

  At the door to the trauma unit a nurse blocked my way. “You can’t come in here.”

  “That’s my husband!” She relented, pushing me back against the wall. “You’ll need to stay right here, out of the way.” She turned back to her work.

  They moved urgently, first transferring Ray to the exam bed, then hooking him to a bewildering assortment of machines and tubes. Monitors to check his heart rate and blood pressure and a hundred other things, all of them hanging on wheeled equipment.

  “He’ll need a central line,” one of the doctors said. A nurse cut away his shirt, and then spread antiseptic at the base of his neck near his clavicle. Seconds later, two of them inserted a long white catheter into his neck.

  One of the doctors started spitting out rapid-fire instructions to a nurse, and I didn’t understand any of it. But it was clear enough when one of the doctors said, “Call Doctor Peterson in neurosurgery.”

  A monitor started screeching, and a nurse said, in a loud calm voice, “Asystole!”

  My throat closed up with fear as they started to do CPR on Ray. I was paralyzed, unable to watch, unable to look away. Dread filled my throat, and I had to force back the need to vomit.

  “Epinephrine,” one of the doctors said, again calmly, even as they were rushing around him.

  I winced and looked away, and crossed my arms across my stomach, shaking. Please. Let Ray be okay.

  I held my breath, trying not to watch, but I couldn’t stop myself. My eyes kept going back to his ravaged body, blood everywhere. His face was caked with blood, swollen and almost black, and his hair was thick with clotting blood. The left side of his body, from his legs up to his arm, looked askew, wrong, as if the bones had been crushed.

  Please don’t let him die. Not now. Not like this. I watched, and I waited, every fiber of my being wanting to just take him in my arms.

  The monitor beeped, then beeped again. The doctors and nurses paused, a vi
sible sigh of relief passing between them. His heart was beating again. I sagged against the wall, my mind nothing but a void.

  The door slid open, and then a woman was standing next to me. She was about five four, black, wearing the same hospital greens as everyone else.

  “Mrs. Sherman?” she spoke quietly. “I’m Michelle Bilmes, with social work.”

  I blinked at her, still shaking, and unable to answer. I couldn’t force myself to look away from the doctors and Ray.

  She spoke again, “I’m the family witnessed resuscitation coordinator for the emergency unit. Perhaps you’d like to step outside with me?”

  I shook my head. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  She gave me a weak smile. “I understand, that’s fine. You understand you need to stay next to the door and out of the way? Your husband is in very serious condition, and they’re doing everything they can for him.”

  “I’ll stay out of the way. Have you heard anything about my sisters?”

  “Your sister Jessica is right next door, staying with Sarah.” She frowned, then said, “Sarah’s also badly injured.”

  I squeezed my eyes shut. “How bad?”

  “It’s too soon to say. But they’re doing everything they can.”

  I nodded my head. “And Jessica’s with her?”

  “Yes, ma’am. She’s doing well ... some bruises, but nothing serious. A doctor will examine her soon, too, but she rode in the ambulance with Sarah.”

  My eyes darted back to Ray. They were still working, still trying to stabilize him. “I ... I lost my phone,” I said. “I need to call ... family …”

  “I spoke with your sister Alexandra on the phone and told her what’s happening. She told me she would alert the rest of your family. And she asked me to let you know that she and Dylan will be on their way here as soon as they can get a flight.”

  I closed my eyes, relief flooding through me. Alexandra and Dylan were coming. Oh, dear God. I’d always been the one who went to my sisters when they needed help. I never realized how much I might need them.

  And then I felt confused, torn because my sister was next door, in just as much danger, but Ray was right here in front of me. I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know where to go.