Rocks
scattered as JD Dunne and his motorcycle skidded across the two lane
road, and onto the shoulder. The motorcycle bounced clear of him and
flipped into the grass. JD rolled three times before coming to
rest half on and half off the white line at the edge of the road.
Tires
squealed as drivers swerved around him. Cars screamed to a stop all over.
Shaking
his head, JD pushed himself up off the pavement. His arms strained
as he tried to push his chest far enough up so that he could pull his
legs underneath him.
"Easy,
son. Just stay still," someone was telling him.
Finally
on his hands and knees, JD swayed. "I'm... okay," he said,
his helmet muffling his voice. His jeans were ragged and torn, his
bloody legs showing through the holes. In places, the leather on his
motorcycle jacket was completely shredded. There was blood running
down the arms of his jacket, dripping off his black-gloved fingers.
Sitting
back on his haunches, JD cradled his left arm close to his chest,
panting hard, trying to catch his breath and take stock of his
injuries. He hurt, but it wasn't as bad as it should have been after
taking a dump like that, he thought. Maybe he wasn't hurt that bad
after all, though the broken arm he held close to his chest kind of
played hell with that idea. Or, he figured, maybe the pain just
hadn't caught up with his brain yet. Probably, it was shock.
He
was fifteen miles from Chris' house, on the last stretch of road
before the turn off for the ranch's driveway. He was going to meet
the guys at noon for a cookout and afternoon trail ride.
"Oh
my God! I'm so sorry!" JD heard a very-young voice saying.
"There was a turtle in the road. I swerved to miss it. I didn't
mean to hit him!"
More
legs were running up to him. JD watched them out of the corner of
his eye as he shook his head, trying to get the black spots out of
his vision. Then something else caught his eye. Behind those legs,
walking as though it owned the whole world, the little turtle was
waddling off the road and into the rocks on the shoulder. JD stared
as the turtle bobbed its tiny head in time with its steps, seemingly
without a care in the world. Then, it walked across the rocks and
into the high grass beyond the shoulder, vanishing into the mesa.
JD
couldn't help it, he let out a loud cackle as he watched the little
turtle disappear. He wasn't sure why it was so damn funny, but the
dedicated look on the turtle's face as it marched on its way into the
wilderness, oblivious to the carnage it had caused, just struck JD's
funny bone and he couldn't stop laughing. 'Of course,' JD grinned, as
he awkwardly unstrapped his helmet with his right hand and pulled it
off, tossing it on the ground, 'it could be from the concussion.' He
glanced around at all the concerned faces staring at him. That just
made him laugh harder.
"Son?"
a worried man asked, as he kneeled next to JD. "Are you okay?"
JD
couldn't stop laughing long enough to answer him.
Then
a teenage girl was squatting next to him. "I didn't mean to hit
you! I was trying to avoid the turtle."
'Miss
the turtle, hit the guy.' The irony struck JD and he let out another
high pitched cackle. "Well," JD gave the girl a cocky grin
and bobbed his eyebrows. "At least the turtle's all right."
She
gave him a watery smile as she wiped tears from her face.
"The
ambulance and police are on their way," the man told him.
"Just stay still." He cocked his head in concern. "Is
there anyone you want us to call?"
JD
snorted out a laugh. 'Just six people,' he thought wryly. Gingerly,
he reached under his abused leather jacket and pulled his cell phone
from its belt clip. Flipping it open one-handed, he was surprised to
see that it still worked. "Nah" he told him. "I've got
it." And he hit #1 on the speed dial.
'The
guys aren't going to believe this,' JD thought, grinning as he
waited for Buck to pick up. And he could almost picture the
headline on the fake newspaper Buck would print out to hang on the
breakroom bulletin board. 'ATF Agent John Daniel Dunne felled by a
five inch box turtle. ...The turtle's fine.'
The End
