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Kaleidoscope for a Lion

BY

Merlaine Hemstraat

 

EXCERPT

 

Chapter One

 

Whether we view our lives through our apertures depends on our imprint within our kaleidoscopes…

Resembling the segments of a stained glass window, our experiences may be fragmented, or we might arrange them in a symmetrical mosaic pattern…

 

Acrid stinging smoke, chaos, and human carnage filled the highway…

Eline Gielen slammed on her brakes with a violent screeching of tires, throwing the car door open without a care where she might be leaving her vehicle. Those people needed her help! A meandering stream of blood reached out its tentacles across the pavement. The smell of violently twisted metal, oily gasoline, spilled blood and shattered bones permeated her nostrils. Agonizing gasps and terrorized screams clawed at her ears, forcing her to acknowledge them.

Rushing toward the wreckage, she found that several motorists had stopped. Traffic was backed-up for miles down the A12 approaching Antwerp. A grateful glance around showed her cell phones jerked out of every pocket, a few short stabs at the keyboard indicating they were calling the Belgian EMS to respond to the scene of the catastrophe. In her haste to help, she had forgotten to dial in.

A few feet from the wreckage, her knees locked, and she couldn’t move anymore, paralyzed with dread.

“Oh, merciful Heaven. I can’t believe what I’m seeing around me!” she mumbled.

All of this torn flesh, exposed bones, vehicles strewn in every direction and mangled metal trapping these people as they fought for their lives! Dizzy with the terror of it all, she struggled to regain her control. Suddenly recalling her church upbringing, she crossed herself, feeling a jolt of courage as she forged onward.

Shouts and cries carried across the pavement while the smell of destruction intensified. An agonizing groan forced her attention to a particular vehicle nearest to the overturned bus.

Horror flooded her at the sight of a male struggling to emerge from the heap of mangled metal that had once been a car. Without a moment to lose, she ran over and crouched down to assist him. The victim’s face and upper body were crimson red from blood and exposed layers of torn and ripped flesh. Eline was scarcely able to look at the condition of the young man—how could he even still be alive? She willed herself not to be sick to her stomach.

She reached out to touch him, pulling her hand back at the last second. Would she end up hurting him even more?

“Oh, shit…I don’t know what to do for you! I just wish I could help you! Where the hell are the paramedics?” she called out as she gently grabbed hold of the bleeding male’s outstretched hand.

Surprised at the strength of his grip, she looked down at the horribly injured man who fought for his life beneath her. With gentle caution, she began to help him clear himself from the wreckage of his car.

The man’s dark eyes appealed to her as he struggled to look up at her. Blood was oozing out of several open wounds, his pale shirt soaked in the crimson liquid. All at once, he collapsed on the pavement by her side.

Smarting from her stab of despair, she watched him suffer before her while hot tears scorched her cheeks, stinging as they fell upon her chest. She felt so helpless! How could she even assist him?

With open mouth, he seemed to fight for air, heaving himself up for a moment, and then collapsing again under the extreme effort. Panic etched his bloodied features as his eyes shot open for a moment. With labored breath, he let out an anguished cry.

Hearing the sounds of the EMS vehicles arriving to take control of the horrific situation, she looked down at the bleeding man with a surge of pity.

“I don’t know if you understand English, but the emergency vehicles are here. My dear God, you just have to hang in there! I’m going to let them know you’re here!” she informed him.

Shifting to get up from the pavement, he grabbed her arm. The strength remaining in his grip shocked her, as did the amount of blood on his hands and fingers.

Through his blood-smeared eyes, he peered up at her.

“No, don’t leave me…please,” he gasped, with a Dutch accent.

Hearing the characteristic tone of his speech, the pointed barb of shame that she had not taken more interest in learning one of her ancestral languages hit her. She had also been trying to get up to go herald the emergency crew, but his words stopped her cold. She couldn’t leave him. Not like this.

With one eye on the victim and her other on the paramedics, she stood up and shouted. “Please come here fast! This man is in horrible shape. He’s heavily bleeding and probably dying. He needs you now!”

One of the Emergency Medical Technicians looked in her direction and then grabbed his case, running toward her.

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