Wounded but Not Dead

Wounded but not Dead

Transfixus sed non Mortuus

Mary Walsh

Copyright © 2019

Mary Walsh

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Discover other books by Mary Walsh

Memories of 9/11

Plenty of Fish in the Ocean State

Once Upon a Time in Chicago

His Second Chance

Where or When

Fine Spirits Served Here

You Deserve Better

Life Lessons for My Kids

Dragon Slayer

Catch a Break

Stable of Studs

This book is dedicated to anyone who has any type of major surgery or illness.

Keep moving forward. You can do it!

Chapter 1

Inches and Seconds

Five minutes changed my life. 300 seconds. A blink of my existence in life and my world altered forever.

At 7:10 a.m. on Thursday, October 4, 2018, I woke my daughter, Anita, before I headed to work.

Why are you leaving early today? she asked me, rubbing sleepy eyes. My alarm hasn’t gone off yet. How come you’re leaving now? She knew I rarely left for work before 7:15 when I made sure she was awake before she headed to high school. Like any typical teenager, she liked sleeping in as long as possible.

I finished getting ready a little bit sooner today, so I’m going to work, I told her. I’ll see you after field hockey practice today. After kissing her on the forehead, I headed out the door and hopped in my car.

The weather, in the low 70s, was warm for early October in south-central Pennsylvania. By this time of the year, we succumbed to wearing light jackets and sweaters. But not that day. I wore a long sleeve black top and a long boho pink and black printed skirt that I had just purchased two weeks earlier. Black open-toed stack heeled sandals were on my feet.

We lived in Mechanicsburg, ten miles west of the capital city of Harrisburg. I poked along Main Street at 25 miles per hour, passing the 100-year-old ice cream shop, the hardware store where the Mayor did most of his business, and the new cupcakery. The community hadn’t changed much in over a century. Every third Thursday in June, our town hosted Jubilee Day, the largest one-day street festival on the East Coast. That might not sound like much, but it is a time-honored tradition for our close-knit community. Over 70,000 people invaded our tranquil town every year.

After winding my way a few blocks along Main Street, I found myself on the main road heading out of the historic downtown section. Kids skipped along the sidewalk on their way to school. Tall oaks blasted the avenue with rich orange, yellow, and brown hues. Many houses and shops were decorated with pumpkins and hay bales for the upcoming Halloween parade.

A block later, as I navigated an upcoming S-curve in the road, a small commercial flatbed truck headed toward me in the oncoming lane. The truck was carrying a load of granite slabs in an A-frame. When I took another quick look, the strappings on the side of the truck snapped.

Holy crap it’s coming off!

I watched in slow motion as the granite fell off the side of the truck. In a split-second reaction, I purposely swerved to the right, hoping to get out of the way of rogue granite.

A chunk of granite hit the lower section of my 2015 Honda CR-V with a large bang, causing the car to jerk.

Then everything went black into a cloud of dust.

My sight was blocked and my car swerved a few times. I clenched the steering wheel, trying in vain to control my deranged car. After what seemed like fifteen or twenty seconds in the raging dark, my car finally came to a stop.

This vehicle has been in an accident… This vehicle has been in an accident… robotically echoed through my car.

The dust fog settled and I heaved a sigh of relief. No broken glass and I wasn’t bleeding. Maybe the damage to my car was as good as I felt? Shaken up, but still intact. I had never been in a major car accident before, so I was unsure what to expect.

A moment later, a dark-haired man approached the outside of my vehicle. Where did he come from?

Do you want me to get you out? he called to me through the window.

Yes! I answered, fearing that my car could still catch on fire, regardless of my potential injuries and car damage.

He attempted to open my driver’s side door, but it was jammed shut. Still fearful of impending fire, I raced to unbuckle my seatbelt. My airbags had not deployed, so my path to the passenger side door was clear. Adrenaline pushed me to help myself. I hoisted myself up over the center console and opened the passenger door to the dark-haired man.

In the few seconds that it took me to move myself, two other men joined the first man and all three of them quickly pulled me out of my car.

Get her out now! Get her out! Now! the one man yelled to the others.

They gingerly carried me to a small patch of grass about 20 feet away from my car. Not knowing the extent of any injuries I might have, they laid me on my side.

One of the men asked me, Is anyone else in the car?

No, I replied. Just me.

What is your name? he asked me. Do you have any info on you?

Mary… My purse…. is in the front seat, I gasped, my heart still racing from being in the accident. I didn’t feel injured but was still in shock from the trauma of being tossed around like a rag doll.

As he ran over to my car to retrieve my belongings, the other two men kneeled on the grass next to me.

I gazed over the shoulder of the one man, and finally focused on my car behind him.

Is that my car? I knew the answer but still begged the question.

My mouth fell open as I cocked my head to the side in stupefaction.

The entire driver’s side front tire of my car was sliced off, like taking a knife to a tomato. The car had jumped the curb in reverse and came to rest against a telephone pole at a 45-degree angle.

How did I not feel any of this moments earlier?

How on earth did I come out unscathed?

Why did my airbags not deploy?

And, knowing me, if my good Samaritans were not around, I would have tried to get out of the car myself. No wonder they were in a rush to get me out. They feared that my car might collapse to the ground.

The second man returned with my purse and laid it