Before He Wakes

CHAPTER ONE:

The Accident

Bernie Wilson cursed softly under his breath. The Walmart had ten different checkout stations but only three of them were currently open, the lines at each stretching back half a dozen long. Bernie gripped the handle of his cart, bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet, a kinetic personification of impatience.

He had half a mind to simply abandon his groceries instead of waiting, but the cupboards were nearly bare at home and he didn’t want to end up like Mother Hubbard. A supply run was not only necessary but imperative. If he had only himself to worry about, he still may have left, but as it was he had his family to consider. He had to take care of them.

Family.

The word brought a rush of warmth to Bernie’s skin, as if his body housed a small furnace somewhere in his gut. Thinking of the love that waited for him at home acted as a balm to soothe his edginess. He took several deep breaths through his nostrils and willed his body to stillness. He had a temper, that had always been one of his greatest weaknesses, but no weakness was so strong it couldn’t be overcome. He’d heard that on TV once, maybe an old episode of Oprah or possibly Dr. Phil. In any case, he recognized it as good advice.

The line inched forward. The cashier, a young woman with the dimensions of a teapot—short and stout—and an unflattering pageboy haircut, seemed the chatty type, engaging each customer in conversation about the weather, the new superhero movie that came out the previous weekend, the sale Walmart had on leaf-blowers, the upcoming Cultural Fair to be held in Greer City Park. Bernie could certainly appreciate good customer service, but when the lines were this long, conversation between cashier and customer should consist of nothing more than, “Good afternoon,” and “Have a nice day.”

Bernie checked his watch and considered moving to another station. However, neither of the other lines seemed to be progressing any faster, and if he did move then this line was sure to inexplicably speed up. It was one of the unwritten laws of the universe. He scanned the magazine rack next to him, searching for something to occupy his mind and make the wait more bearable. Nothing but trashy tabloids detailing outrageous celebrity behavior, divorces and infidelities, drug addictions and alcohol-fueled brawls. He shook his head and turned away. He didn’t even recognize the majority of the faces that graced the covers. He didn’t keep up with popular culture these days, hadn’t been to a movie in years, and had cancelled his cable subscription some time back. He did occasionally watch old sitcoms from the 1950s on his computer. Leave it to Beaver, Father Knows Best, Ozzie and Harriet, The Donna Reed Show. Wholesome programs that reflected old-fashioned family values.  

Feeling a light tap on his shoulder, Bernie turned to the elderly woman in line behind him. She stood slightly stooped, holding a blue shopping basket which contained a jar of spaghetti sauce and a box of noodles.

“Excuse me,” the woman said. “I only have two items. Would you mind if I jumped ahead of you?”

“Yes, I would mind,” Bernie said and turned his back to her.

Normally he hated being rude, especially to his elders—his mother had raised him better than that—but his tolerance was already stretched thin. He merely wanted to get home, put the groceries away, and have dinner with his family.

He could feel stares of judgment from those nearby at his treatment of the old biddy, but he didn’t care. Truth be told, the people around him were mere shadows. All that mattered were the members of his family, and they counted on him. He wouldn’t let them down.

Finally, he reached the register and began unloading his groceries onto the conveyor belt. He avoided eye contact with the biddy; she stood uncomfortably close behind him. He refused to feel guilty simply because he put his family ahead of some stranger. He’d been alone for years and thought he was happy, but now that he had a full house, he understood how very empty his life had been before.

“How are you today?” the cashier asked in a perky voice. Her nametag identified her as Kristy, but Bernie thought of her as Teapot.

“Fine,” he said in a curt voice meant to convey he had no interest in idle chitchat.

Teapot didn’t get the hint. “Did you find everything you needed?”

Bernie nodded, fuming inside that she hadn’t yet scanned his first item.

“Do you have any coupons?”

“No,” Bernie said, his voice sharper than intended, but the irritation evident in his tone did the trick and Teapot began scanning.

Unfortunately, she didn’t stop talking.

 “Did you hear about the reward the Barrett girl’s parents are offering?”

“What?” Bernie said, wishing Teapot would move faster, work silently.

“You know, the high school girl who disappeared a couple months back. The police have ruled out her boyfriend as a suspect, so her parents are offering ten thousand dollars to anyone with information about what might have happened to her. It’s like she disappeared into thin air or something. Kinda scary. I won’t walk out to my car alone if it’s already dark when I get off work.”

A noncommittal caveman grunt was Bernie’s only response to this. He took his wallet from his back pocket and pulled out his debit card so he’d have it at the ready. He felt his impatience building again, and as no bagger had come up to the station, he began bagging his own items as Teapot scanned them then placing them back in the cart.

“You’re in a hurry, huh?” the cashier said with a pleasant smile.

“I certainly am,” Bernie said with a less-than-pleasant tone.

Teapot continued to smile, but the corners of her lips twitched and the smile took on a strained quality. He could see in her eyes that he’d hurt her feelings, and he was truly sorry for that, but it was her own fault really.

In silence, she finished scanning his items, gave him the total, and he slid his card into the chip reader. He groaned inwardly as he had to decline getting cash back and confirm the total before being allowed to enter his pin. The display screen read “Authorizing” for what seemed a small eternity before finally changing to “Payment Accepted.”

He immediately began pushing the cart toward the exit. “Don’t you want your receipt?” Teapot called after him.

“Keep it.”

He thought he heard the old biddy mutter the word “Bastard” but he kept on going, passing through the vestibule and out the automatic doors. The day was cool but bright, the sun beating down and reflecting off the cars in the parking lot to dazzle the eye. To his right, a card table had been set up and several Girl Scouts were hawking their cheap cookies. A redhead in ridiculous pigtails turned to him as he exited and started her spiel.

Bernie had to admit the cookies looked appetizing, but he could probably order them online and have them delivered right to his door. Every time he had to go out into the world, he always ended up feeling like being a hermit was the ideal mode of existence. He already worked from home, and now that he had his new family, what was the point of venturing out if he didn’t need to?

These thoughts preoccupied Bernie’s mind as he looked away from the Girl Scouts and quickly rolled his cart out into the crosswalk. Behind him he heard one of the Girl Scouts shout, then the screech of brakes. From his periphery he sensed an oncoming mass, and he glanced to the right just in time to see the grill of the SUV before it made contact.

At first Bernie felt no pain. Only a sense of weightlessness, a rollercoaster-hollowness in his stomach, as he was lifted into the air. The cart rose with him before it descended onto the hood of a Honda in one of the handicapped spaces, smashing the windshield. Bernie landed on the pavement, the back of his head striking the asphalt with enough force that his teeth clamped together and actually sliced through the tip of his tongue. Before he felt the pain in his right leg, he felt the pain in his skull, bright and explosive like the detonation of a bomb. For a moment he thought hail was falling from the cloudless sky, landing all around him, but then he realized it was only dog food from one of the bags that had been in his cart.

The pain flared, bathing his entire body in a white-hot agony, but then it started to fade. As did the light. Curious, he hadn’t realized it was so close to twilight. All around him he heard voices, raised and strident, and though he knew he was the cause of this commotion, he could muster no real sense of urgency.

“Call 911,” someone screamed, and Bernie found himself wondering what the emergency was. Had someone been injured?

Oh yes, of course, I have. I was hit by a car.

The light continued to dim. An eclipse perhaps? Suddenly a face loomed over his, an older man with a balding head and a rather bulbous nose. His eyes were wide and panicked. “Oh my god!” the man said. “You just ran out in front of me, I tried to stop but there wasn’t time. Don’t worry, an ambulance is on the way. You’re going to be alright.”

Bernie understood all the words the man spoke, but he couldn’t quite put them together in a coherent, meaningful way. Who needed an ambulance, and why had no one told him about the eclipse?

The last thought Bernie had before he slipped into unconsciousness was, My family is waiting at home for me. Who will take care of them if I don’t return?