The Day Steam Died Part 16

Libby's hearing was damaged at birth, but she was in therapy to develop her speech as well as learning sign language. She stretched her arms out and wrapped them around Ann's neck in a big hug. She slowly mouthed, "Hi, Mommy. Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas to you too, sweetheart. I'm so glad you're here." Ann slowly signed as she spoke the words. "We have your favorite, macaroni and cheese and chocolate cake. And for you, young man, we have Lexington barbeque. Come on, let's get those coats and boots off so we can eat lunch."

"You have barbecue for the young man, but what about the old man here?" Jerry kidded.

"You'll have to settle for Lexington barbeque for now. You'll get your desert later." Ann winked at Jerry and herded the kids toward a long table spread with enough food to feed twice the number of warehouse workers.

The warehouse crew ate like they hadn't seen food for a week, going back for second and third helpings of barbecue, beans, potato salad, chips, and several varieties of dips. Pedro Gonzales brought in three dozen of his wife's home made special recipe tortillas stuffed with beef, dried spiced tomatoes, jalapeno peppers, chili, and refried beans drenched in cheese. To quench the fire from the tortillas was a wash tub full of Cheerwine, Dr. Pepper, and c.o.ke placed next to the table.

"Jerry, you had better get going before the roads are covered," Ann called to her husband, who was still grazing the food table. "I fixed you a goodie bag and a Thermos of coffee for the road." She gave him a hug. "I hope you don't mind me volunteering you to pick up Marie's sister in Boone."

"Not at all. I just hope you didn't put any of Pedro's tortillas in there. My eyes are still watering. You need to get his recipe."

Jerry took the bag and walked Ann toward the door and then gave her a warm, loving kiss under the mistletoe dangling over the doorway.

Ronnie whistled and the other workers whooped at the sight.

"What was that for?" Ann blushed, embarra.s.sed in front of her coworkers.

Jerry pointed to the mistletoe. "A down payment for tonight. I'll try to be back before dark. If I'm not, you all go ahead with dinner." He knelt down on one knee and kissed Libby, who not only gave him a big hug but signed, "I love you." He had to settle for a hug from Ricky who thought he was too big now for a kiss. "Be careful driving home," he cautioned Ann and waved goodbye.

Chapter 34.

"Progress brought greater opportunity for citizens of Bankstowne to live a better life and share that growth with their families."

Trip to Boone A light covering of snow was sticking on Highway 421 when Jerry turned onto the four-lane highway to Boone. By the time he reached Wilksboro thirty miles later the highway narrowed to two lanes and snow was acc.u.mulating faster than the snow plows could clear it. It had been snowing longer in the foothills with the temperature four degrees colder than in Winston-Salem. Jerry had loaded several fifty-pound sand bags over the rear axle of his pickup to help with traction. The further up the mountains he drove, the heavier the snow came down, driven by a strong Easterly wind. Snow piled up in the corners of his winds.h.i.+eld and crept toward the center, partially blocking his field of vision.

Ann's homemade blueberry m.u.f.fins and hot coffee made the trip more bearable.

Jerry's head bobbed to the beat of country music blaring from his radio. He was doing everything to help break the hypnotic monotony of the swis.h.i.+ng wiper blades laboring to clear his winds.h.i.+eld. It occurred to Jerry he was the only vehicle on the road and the cleared path had disappeared as he continued the uphill climb toward Boone.

Halfway up the long incline, snow fell so heavily it was nearly a whiteout. At the higher alt.i.tude, temperatures dropped into the teens. Snow had covered the truck pull-over lane to his right and blanketed a stalled vehicle that couldn't make it up the hill. On the downward side, big sand traps for runaway trucks were covered by eight inches of snow. They were almost impossible to distinguish from the rest of the roadside. It was the most treacherous section of highway even in good weather with speed posted at thirty-miles per hour for trucks descending the mountain.

Jerry's four-wheel drive pickup crept up the slope without slipping in second gear. This was still an adventure for him. He loved to challenge his truck and smiled when he noticed a snow-covered car waiting for a tow.

Jerry's light bar across the top of the cab penetrated the early darkness less than twenty feet before hitting a black wall.

From previous experience, he knew a blind, hairpin curve loomed ahead. Signs warning of the sharp curve were obscured by the snow plastered on their surface by the swirling wind. From his many trips to watch the Appalachian State Mountaineers football games, Jerry had a sense of where he was. He proceeded slowly, trying to stay on his side of the highway as he navigated the turn.

In the middle of the sharp bend in the road, he heard loud, repeated blasts from a trucker's horn. Jerry leaned forward and strained to see what might be coming down the hill. The sound got louder. He lowered his window and reached around to try to clear the acc.u.mulated snow off his winds.h.i.+eld with little success.

Then he saw it. Headlights in the downhill lane traveling much too fast. The blurred image of a jackknifed gasoline tanker hurdled toward him. With only seconds to react, Jerry pulled his arm back inside and slammed his truck into first gear then floored the gas pedal. All four wheels dug at the ice-packed road as he aimed for the pullout lane in a futile effort to avoid the oncoming tanker. Nine thousand gallons of gasoline hit Jerry's truck broadside, swept it in its path until both vehicles crashed through the guard rail and down the side of the mountain.

Jerry's pickup catapulted from the ruptured tanker like a pellet from a well-aimed sling shot and slammed into a pine tree. The impact shook the snow from its heavy laden branches, burying the twisted truck.

The driver desperately tried to bail out of his rig as the tanker tumbled down the mountain spewing gasoline as it went. When it finally settled at the bottom of a gorge, it was upside down and burst into a ball of fire. Flames leaped hundreds of feet into the black night. Fire quickly engulfed the rig and raced up the mountainside, incinerating the wide swath cut by the tanker. Only the heavy layer of snow between the gasoline-soaked heap of twisted steel that entrapped Jerry saved him from the wall of flames that raced up to the highway.

A wrecker dispatched to aid the stranded motorist a mile below the collision saw the orange glow of the fire. The driver pulled over to where the vehicles had crashed through the guard rail and franticly called the highway patrol over his CB radio.

"Smoky, this is Road Angel, come back."

"Road Angel, this is Patrolman Knox, go ahead."

"There's been a G.o.d-awful wreck. A tanker went over the side and exploded. There's fire everywhere. I'm about five miles down the hill, the road is covered, but you can see the fire for miles. Over."

"Roger that. I'll radio fire and rescue to the scene. Thanks. Ten Four, over and out."

Unable to be of any further a.s.sistance, the shaken driver cautiously continued down the hill. His double-chained rear wheels dug into the deep snow to find and rescue the stranded vehicle.

A scorching thirty minutes elapsed before fire and rescue help arrived. The pumper arrived with three volunteer firemen. Two firemen repelled down the bank carrying inch-and-half lines over their shoulders. The intense fire melted a twenty foot perimeter around the blazing tanker, turning the frozen ground into a muddy quagmire.

Wrestling a 150 p.s.i. fire hose in the mud was made more difficult by the driving snow and wind that whipped the flames around like a wild fire. The firemen trained their water on the cab in a futile effort to rescue the driver. They switched to chemical smothering foam and finally knocked the blaze out in the tractor cab. They risked their lives getting as close as the heat would let them. But the vehicle was too hot for the firemen to enter the cab and remove the charred body of the driver.

The rescue team finally arrived with a backboard and watched helplessly as smoke from the smoldering cab swirled around the driver pinned behind the steering wheel. Five hundred gallons of foam finally suppressed the fire that had reduced the tanker to a heap of melted steel. Mother Nature's snow and single-digit temperature cooled it enough for the rescue team to remove the charred body of the driver.

The EM team struggled up the mountainside, using their lifelines attached to the ambulance to drag the unknown trucker to the road. Fighting the wind-driven snow in his face, the lead fireman noticed a red light a good thirty yards to his left.

"Hey, Mike, can you see anything like a red light over there by that big pine tree?"

"Yeah, I'll go over and check it out."

Mike was able to trudge horizontally without a lifeline. On closer inspection, he discovered Jerry's rear tail light. He looked inside the truck, the beam of his flashlight lighting up a crumpled body pinned between the front seat, caved in door, and steering wheel.

"Hey, it's a pickup truck with somebody inside! Can't tell if he's alive or not," Mike yelled to his partners. "Take the body up to the ambulance and bring the backboard, rescue bag, and jaws-of-life back. And hurry!"

Mike crawled in through the broken pa.s.senger window, tore off one of his gloves, and found Jerry had a faint pulse. Frozen blood covered Jerry's face and his left arm was twisted around backward. A twenty-minute battle ensued, in which they used the Jaws-of-Life to carefully pry the crushed cab open so Jerry could be removed from the remains of his pickup.

Unconscious, but miraculously alive, Jerry was gently strapped to the backboard. They put him in neck brace and strapped his crushed left arm to his side. A blood transfusion was started. The rescue team wrapped Jerry in heavy wool blankets to protect him from hypothermia for the tedious climb up the mountainside.

Chapter 35.

"Every student of Bankstowne High that wanted to went to college thanks to the generous support of the Thaddeus Banks scholars.h.i.+p fund."

Christmas tragedy on the mountain Ann helped Marie clean up the mess the warehouse crew made while stuffing themselves and getting tipsy from the spiked punch. It was getting dark, and snow swirled around the building, piling up drifts against the warehouse's outer walls. Jerry was a good driver, she told herself. It would just take him a little longer to get home. She wouldn't worry.

"I think the guys really enjoyed themselves," Ann said to Marie, dividing up the leftovers for the warehouse crew. "I'll fix up some brown bags for them to take home. I just want to get rid of this food."

"We might as well close up for the day, too. n.o.body feels like working after all that food and vodka-spiked punch. There aren't any cars scheduled for this afternoon through the weekend."

Alice spoke loud enough for the Enforcer, Joey, to hear as he stood like a statue next to the Christmas tree with his arms folded in front of him. He was more like a piece of furniture than a staff member. He just stood around, watched and listened to everything, but he seldom said anything. Everybody was afraid of Joey except Marie.

"Hey, Joey," Marie said with a grin, "what are you doing for the holidays, going back to New York?"

Joey smiled, more of a grimace, and left the office for the warehouse without a reply.

Ann shook her head. "One of these days he's going to let you have it. You really don't want to cross him. I'd be careful if I were you."

"What's he going to do, report me to Sam? Sam won't do anything to me. I can bring this whole operation down and he knows it."

"What do you know that can intimidate Sam Johnson?"

"Oh, honey, you don't want to know. You have a nice family to take care of. I'm alone and have nothing to lose if it ever hits the fan around here."

Another attempt to find out what she knew failed, but it didn't bother Ann. She wasn't in a rush.

Another glace outside sent a chill through her body. "I know you're worried about the weather, so why don't you let me drive you home? Better yet, why don't you come home with me and spend the night? We have plenty of room and Mom can loan you some warm clothes. We'll bring you back to get your car after the streets are cleared tomorrow."

"You sure you don't mind? I feel like I'm imposing on you and Jerry."

"Not at all. We'll leave a note for Jerry so he'll know to just come home with your sister. Come on, help me take these goodie bags back to the warehouse guys."

Marie and Ann boxed up the bags, distributed them to the crew, and wished them a Merry Christmas and Feliz Navidad. They were told they could leave as soon as operations were shut down and the building secured.

On their way out, Marie had to take one more shot at Joey. "Merry Christmas to you too, Joey. Maybe Santa will bring you a new att.i.tude."

Ann checked the kitchen clock again; it was after six. Jerry should've been home by now.

Marie was having fun with the kids, popping corn over a crackling blaze in the living room fireplace. The heavy oak mantle was adorned with evergreen and Christmas decorations to match the tr.i.m.m.i.n.gs that wrapped around the room. She helped them string the popcorn, climbed a ladder, and wound the strands around their ten-foot tree. It was covered with lights, s.h.i.+mmering tinsel, and ornaments the children had made.

Ann made hot chocolate with marshmallows for everyone to try and slowed down her runaway imagination. Everyone gathered around the fireplace and sang Christmas carols. Ann wore a calm mask and carried on pleasant conversations with Alice, Marie, and Sylvia, who had finally gotten over her anger and become a part of the family.

All that time, Ann's nerves inched closer to panic. She gathered the children and put them to bed earlier than usual after reading the last installment of Frosty the Snowman.

Another trip to the kitchen to check the clock- eight. Where was Jerry? Why hadn't he called?

Now she panicked.

Chapter 36.

"As it always does, change and progress brought uncertainty to your world. You fought for your ident.i.ty in a time of transition."

Boone Memorial Hospital A team of doctors and nurses waited for the ambulance to arrive bearing the victims of the fiery accident. The ambulance lights bounced off the building and flooded the emergency bay with flickers of pulsating red flashes.

Racing against death, the rescue team bolted through the outer room double doors. Inside they were met by an ER team that grabbed the stretcher handles and jogged past three busy triage stations before finding a vacant bay for Jerry.

"He's really in bad shape, doc," the EMS attendant said. "He has signs of hypothermia, but the cold probably kept him from bleeding to death. We had a hard time finding a pulse. He's just barely hanging on."

"Thanks, guys. We'll take it from here."

The ER team worked feverishly over him, inserting blood and saline IVs, cutting off his clothes to examine his bodily injuries. A portable X-ray unit clicked pictures from his head to his feet. An ER nurse retrieved and bagged Jerry's personal belongings from his blood-soaked clothes and delivered them to the Charge Nurse's station.

Ann's bold front faded when she glanced at her watch-nine and still no word from Jerry. With the kids in bed, she tried to keep busy to take her mind off the what if game going on inside her head. She served another round of hot chocolate to Alice, Sylvia, and Marie, who was waiting on Jerry to bring her sister to Winston for the holidays.

The phone's ring sounded as loud as a fire bell. Ann jerked at the sound, almost dropped the pitcher, and spilled hot chocolate on the serving tray. Jerry had finally called. Ann grabbed the phone before a second ring.

"Jerry, where are you?"

"Is this Mrs. Jerry Blackmon?" an unfamiliar voice asked.

Ann's excitement turned to dread. In a trembling, almost inaudible voice, she answered, "Yes, this is Mrs. Blackmon. Who am I speaking to?"

"Mrs. Blackmon, this is Charge Nurse Melanie Bowers at Boone Memorial Hospital. Your husband has been in an accident."

Ann's voice quivered into the phone. "Can . . . can I speak to him?"

"I'm afraid that isn't possible."

"How bad is he? I want to come see him."

"Mrs. Blackmon, please try to remain calm. Your husband is in critical condition in the Intensive Care Unit and the doctors are doing everything they can for him. There's nothing you can do for him at this time. Highway 421 is almost impa.s.sable. I honestly don't think it's safe for you to come up here tonight. The road crews are working as fast as they can and hope to have the roads clear by morning. I strongly suggest you wait until morning. We'll keep you advised of your husband's condition if there are any changes."

Ann's legs buckled, and she slowly slid down the wall, crumpling to the floor. Shocked speechless, all she could manage was a weak "Thank you."

The phone went silent.

Her fingers were squeezed bloodless from her grip on the phone. She couldn't move or speak; fear paralyzed her.

"Oh my G.o.d!" Alice screamed when she came around the end of the cooking island and saw Ann lying on the floor. Her eyes were wide open in a crazed stare. "What's wrong, is Jerry okay? Talk to me, Ann. Please say something!"

Alice took Ann in her arms and hugged her then yelled to Sylvia and Marie for help.

"What's wrong?" Sylvia said as she entered the kitchen and then gasped when she saw Ann. "She's as white as a sheet."

"I don't know what's wrong with her. Get me a damp cloth!"

Sylvia rushed to the sink and came back with a wet cloth and a bowl full of water with ice cubes. Alice repeatedly swabbed Ann's forehead and face, occasionally dipping the cloth in the icy water. Ann's eyes began to flutter and a moan slipped between her clinched teeth.

"What is it, Ann, what's the matter?" Sylvia asked as she messaged Ann's arms and legs to help her blood circulation while Alice worked the cold cloth from her face to the back of Ann's neck.

Ann began to respond and slowly regained her wits. For a moment, Ann looked blankly at her mother.