Free Coal Black Blues by Lee Ann Sontheimer Murphy Page A

ahead, his eyes dark with the gaze of a man who has seen hell and lived to tell the tale and ahead, a jack-knifed eighteen wheeler tangled with a crumpled pickup truck, both engulfed in flame that shot high into the sky.
    “Oh, sweet Jesus,” she breathed, more prayer than exclamation.
    And Neil said nothing, his hands on the wheel clutched so tight his knuckles had gone white as he trembled. He moaned, a terrible noise, and then shouted without words, the sound of his voice both hoarse and filled with anguish.

Chapter Seven
     
    Beside her, Neil quivered, eyes focused on the billowing black smoke and orange flames ahead. She undid her harness to scoot closer, taking his hand in hers without any response. The acrid smell of burning poured into the car despite the windows being closed. Caroline dialed nine-one-one on her cell although she figured other drivers had too, then turned toward Neil, worried.
    “Neil?” she said, remembering what he’d shared, how he had received almost fatal third-degree burns after the military vehicle he had been riding in, came across a roadside bomb. He said he suffers from PTSD but until now I never saw any evidence of it. Caroline wanted to soothe and calm him, but she had no idea what to do or how to do it. Acting on instinct, relying on their old bond and her deep feelings for him, she said his name again. “Neil, Neil, you’re all right. You’re here and I’m here and we’re fine.”
    He made another guttural sound and her heart shattered for his pain. If she could, Caroline thought she would draw it from him and endure it in his stead. “Neil, sweetheart, come out of it, please. I need you.”
    She did, on many levels, but the immediate urgency was to reach him, to break through his torment and bring him to the present. The second thing would be to move the car farther away. Although he’d stopped just past the brink of a hill and managed to park on the shoulder, the fiery crash in the valley below was too near for Caroline’s peace of mind. Sirens shrieked in the distance. Behind them, other vehicles were also halted and some rude drivers honked their horns as if the road ahead could be instantly cleared. When Neil failed to respond, Caroline managed to undo his seat belt and shook his shoulders. “Neil! Neil! It’s Carrie.”
    Neil stirred, restless, and still shaking. He mumbled something she couldn’t make out, then said, “Gotta get out of here. I’m burning, Jesus, I’m burning.”
    “Neil, you’re not. That was a long time ago and you’re safe. You’re with me, with Carrie, in West Virginia.”
    His obvious flashback distressed her, more for his sake than hers. Her inability to rouse him increased her worry and she wondered just what she should do if he remained caught in the past. She continued talking, repeating his name and offering what encouragement she could. Five minutes had passed although it seemed like an hour and the first emergency responders had arrived at the accident scene. Some occupants from other cars had stepped out of their vehicles, craning their heads to stare at the fire. Neil had muttered a few more sentences and in desperation, she said, without any remaining restraint, “Neil, I love you, do you hear me? I always have, never stopped, and being home, with you, has been a good time for me, something I’ve needed. But come out of it, please, Neil, because I don’t know what to do or say. Please, Neil.”
    Her voice broke on the last two words and she began to cry softly as tears trailed down her cheeks. Caroline crouched in the seat, on her knees facing him, and clutched his stiff arm. She bowed her head, overcome with helplessness and emotion, and sobbed.
    “Hey, don’t cry.” Neil’s voice, husky and softer as a whisper, halted her outpouring.
    “Neil, oh, Neil, oh, my God, Neil, I didn’t know what to do or say.”
    Caroline’s strength while he’d been in a flashback vanished like fog in morning sunlight.
    “It’s all