Burning Barriers

Despite all the strength, all the fortitude, and all of the resolve Kate had found in her everyday life – in that single moment she was as helpless as a person could be. The second impact sent her head lurching forward; her chest strained against the vinyl cloth strap which held tight and, just short of her forehead meeting the steering wheel, whipped her back again with the same violent force. Kate could see that the car was still moving, but it was out of her control as it spun around, whipping her back and forth in her seat once more before all came to rest at a bizarre angle. The noise behind her was deafening as she fought to release herself from the shoulder strap. Her back ached as she twisted, pushing off of the front console for leverage, but she didn't care. She had to reach them.

In the backseat, now resting above her head, Kate’s two youngest children dangled from their carseat harnesses. Both screamed in her face while she fought to release one and then the other. The car was standing, nearly straight up, nose first, in the ditch, which made it difficult for her to maneuver them. She had to lay the oldest, Lucy, against the back of the front passenger seat, while she unbuckled her infant son, Dustin, from his car seat. Then, carefully, making sure she was perfectly balanced, Kate pulled them to her and held them tight against her chest for a few seconds before attempting to open the door. Both front doors held firm when she tried to push at them to escape.

She had no idea how long it would be before help arrived. Experience had taught her that response times depended on numerous factors and could vary. Kate ignored the pain that was ravaging her back and neck. She set Lucy where she had rested her before while holding Dustin; gingerly she pushed her weight up with her legs so she could reach the rear door handle. After a moment of tugging, she felt it release, and the door fell open. There was a brief moment of relief, but she was not entirely sure how she was going to get herself, a three year old, and an infant of four months, over the seat and through the exit she had just created.

Just as panic began to show its ugly face and tears threatened to fall from her eyes, a familiar sleeve of black with a reflective yellow stripe reached in, touching her shoulder.

“Hey…It’s Kate! …and her kids!” Roger, her fellow firefighter, shouted to the other men. He turned his attention back to her. “Are you alright? Stay still and we will get you out.”

How odd it felt, the role reversal – she was not performing the rescue – it was she who was being rescued.

Once freed from the crushed metal box, Kate took in her surroundings. The driver who had caused the whole ordeal was pinned in his truck between two trees across the ditch from her, just shy of hitting a house. The red taillights, still working, shone brightly back at her. Her instinct was to cross the ditch and offer help, retrieving the man from his precarious perch, but even if they would have allowed her, the pain in her back drove home the reality of her limitations. Instead, Kate watched, offering kind words of reassurance to her scared children while they were set atop the white sheet-laden stretchers to be examined.

The adrenaline continued to drain from her body, and she found it more difficult to move of her own accord. The men, her colleagues, were forced to lift her up onto the stretcher. Kate cringed in agony. She looked up at them, motionless, head secured in a neck brace. From experience, she knew that look of concern that flooded their eyes. She had shared it with these men before, and fear pierced her to the core as she thought that she might never share anything with them again.