Daughters of Earth, Sons of Heaven

When he came out of the alcoholic blackout, the only problem he had was that the car he was driving had left the road about one hundred feet back. The car was traveling through the rocks and trees at about 60 miles an hour, and was coming apart all around him. The first time the car rolled over on its top, the windshield exploded in his face. The second time the car rolled, the back of the seat he had been seat-belted into broke in half and he was thrown into the back seat. The third time the car rolled, the roof was smashed down around the steering wheel and seat where he had been a few minutes before, smashing him flat between the seat and the flattened roof with his feet sticking out of the back window. There it came to rest, with the weight of the car pinning his legs and feet in the mud and rocks of the mountain stream that was at the bottom of the ravine that he had descended.The car slammed into the bottom of the ravine with an explosive impact that echoed through the mountain slopes. The dead silence that followed was broken only by the tick of the cooling metal, and the spinning of a single wheel while that lasted for only a few minutes. The gurgle of the stream became the only sound for many, many minutes. Slowly there was a digging, a struggling in the water and mud under the car. It became more insistent as rocks and mud were displaced and more room to struggle was had. The struggle became shoving back and forth to gain more space with each effort, until a last wrenching pull brought a sucking sound that meant freedom. He was inside the back seat of the car, still trapped by the car resting on its crushed roof. Then came the pounding, blows struck again and again against the unyielding metal. Slowly the rear door on the driver's side of the car began to jolt open, inch by inch, imperceptibly at first, then wider. Until at last, a narrow slot of only perhaps 8 inches or so opened, enough for him to stick his head through, then to wriggle his shoulders and then hips through to freedom.He stood by the side of the car for some time, marveling at the total destruction of the car. Every piece of glass in the car was shattered. The roof was smashed down to the level of the hood and trunk. The back seat was filled with shattered glass and his blood. He turned to climb up the slope of the ravine to try and hitch a ride into town. He climbed up about three-quarters of the way up and fell back down again. He picked himself up and limped over to a rock. He was in no better shape than the car. His hair and ears were full of gravel. He had a bruise the size of a television set across his back. He had a hematoma, a swelling the size of half a cantaloupe on his right hip that had been split by the glass. The gashes laid open the muscle all the way to the bone, and blood flowed freely out of them. As he watched, the edges of the gashes began to close, slowly at first, and then with gathering speed, working towards the middle and the ultimate closing of the gashes He sat cross-legged on the mountain rock, watching his own blood run down the mossy surface and thought. "I have got to cut this shit out." The Hospital He pulled himself up and walked over to the car. He reached back into the back seat to the place under the front seat. From there he pulled out a bottle of clear vodka, about one-half empty. He removed the lid, and took two deep swallows. He then put the lid back on and threw the bottle into the stream so the police would not find it when they searched the car. He then reached down to the stream and brought up several hand-full of water to his mouth and face, rinsing and washing them so that the police would not smell the vodka on his breath. Oh well, he thought, vodka doesn't smell anyway. He began the climb up the slope of the ravine to the highway. The steep slope, the rocks and bush