The car lurched over the dirt road. The squeak of the engine resembled the cry of a wounded animal caught in a trap. The crazed car veered off the road towards the orange groves, crashing into a tree. The car crumpled like a tin can, its front bumper embedded in the trunk, its back wheels spinning in the sunlight. A faint cry of “help, Mama, Mama, Ma…”echoed in the stillness.
For an instant, each of the three young man relive fragments from a long-forgotten dream. Frank sees himself on a jagged mountain top battling a clawed fog-shrouded figure. Red lights flash before his eyes as he slumps forward on the steering wheel. Trapped in the underbelly of the chassis, Joe swims toward his mother beckoning to him from the shore. Wedged between the front and back seats, Lou dances in a sunlit meadow amongst a trio of masked figures swaying to the sweet notes of a flute. Linking arms with the trio, he spirals into blackness.
The shards of twisted metal and glass glinted in the sunlight. Insects burrowed beneath the mounds of leaves. A squirrel skittered under the car. A condor, its claws extended, swooped over the car and soared away.
Afternoon shadows darkened the landscape. The sound of a horse’s hooves grew closer. The farmer stopped the buggy, climbed out and walked over to the wreckage. He tugged at the door handle, cupped his hands over his eyes and peered inside the back window. He stepped away, stumbled, his mouth twitching. His shoulders shook, he yanked a handkerchief from his back pocket and wiped the rag over his face. He shuffled to the buggy, climbed onto the seat, reached for the whip and whacked the horse on its flanks. “Git on, git on.”
The trees cower beneath the moonlight. A canopy of leaves enshrouds the car. The faint scent of orange blossoms lingers in the air.