It is near dusk. You are in the front passenger’s seat.  You are screaming because words fail and fear fills you.  The driver of your car wonders what has possessed you as it will still be seconds more before he believes the little white car in the south-bound lane, having swerved off the highway, is now somersaulting toward you.

All of it is like falling in a dream: sudden, out-of-control.

You are grateful there are only a few cars on the road. Realizing you need to call for help, you also accept that help is a long way off.

The distance of assistance means exponentially increasing danger for the growing line of traffic you and your driver will try to direct.  But, for the passengers of the car, two young men, who bounce out of the vehicle when it has finally landed upright, it is a brief reprieve.

You cannot fathom how they are okay. And then you realize, though they are in the midst of this frightening accident, they are viciously fighting each other while scrambling to gather the paraphernalia which has spilled onto the pavement.

It is getting darker and increasingly unsafe for you to be in the middle of a crowd of impatient automobiles.

Any sympathy you had for the confused and feuding two vanishes with the last rays of the sun when, just before the emergency crews arrive, the tweaker without the hat runs off into the lava fields to hide whatever has fueled this crash.

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