The "grapevine"  nature of small towns has always been a part of my life. The way news travels from doorstep to doorstep, like a vigorous winter wind sweeping through the dead trees and shaking their listless branches. Whenever something tragic or extravagant happens, the whole town of Argyle, Minnesota, knows within a matter of hours, through the long chain of vigilant housewives who thrive off of informing others into the private lives of their fellow citizens. So it was no surprise, really, when the news of a fatal car crash washed over the town like a tidal wave of panic, shaking up the nerves of everyone. This was primarily because, for the first forty two hours and twenty seven minutes, all of the bodies were unidentified, completely disfigured and rearranged to a distasteful,  bloody mess.
"It had to be some outsider who didn't know the roads!"
"Naw, it was a drunk teenager. They always thinkin' they are invincible."
"Well all I know is that it wasn't my boy. He's stupid, alright, but he wouldn't..."
"None of this would have happened if we had a republican mayor, you know..."
People rambled on like broken records, shoving their opinions down the throats of their neighbors as they impatiently waited to hear more news. It had been a busy weekend for Argyle, the football team had an away game and many colleges were on fall break, so traveling was inevitable. Parents feared for the lives of their children, and desperately dialed cell phones until receiving the desired answer from their loved ones, along with a sigh of relief. 

I, myself, had reason to be nervous, because my entire family had left for the weekend to visit my cousins and had taken the exact route which the crash had befallen. I stayed behind due to my egregious amount of homework, which hung over my head along with my responsibility to behave on my own. However, with the sudden news of the accident, I found myself restless as ever, unable to concentrate on any sort of assignment. I took a long walk through the golden field that lay just beyond my backyard, I chewed on every piece of gum within my reach, and I even began to rearrange furniture in my room before I realized it was time to leave. I had to drive up to my cousin's home, even if it was a strenuous trek, and make sure my family was safe. I knew that I wouldn't hear any more news of the crash for a few more hours, and by then I would probably be clinically insane.

I quickly secured the house shut, grabbed a coat, and embraced the gust of wind that greeted my face as I stepped outside. I stepped into my 2001 Honda Accord, the piece of junk I had to drive around town, and brought the engine to life. I knew my parents, assuming they were well, would not rejoice at the thought of me driving up to see them, but my stomach was in a tight knot that could only be undone at the sight of their security.

The road leading out of Argyle was long and desolate, with only the sound of rocks bumping the tires to keep me awake. I turned up the radio and let the hum of the music carry me along, until I was abruptly interrupted by the sound of a police siren behind me. My heart dropped to my toes, and a thin sweat broke out underneath my hair.
If I get pulled over, there goes all freedom. Whoosh! Gone.

The sirens neared and then, thankfully, passed, stopping not too far ahead. I checked the sign on the side of the road and realized that I was within thirty feet of the accident site, which made my beating heart start up all over again. I shut the radio off and, cautiously, proceeded to drive, slowly passing up the police car that was now stopped and had blocked off part of the road with bulky orange cones. I gradually passed the scene, pressing the tip of my nose to the side window, attempting to peak in between the barriers. All I saw was a thick, dark red line of blood that had stained the rocky road. There was some debris, a few pieces of a car, but the blood stood out to me. Its ominous nature ran a chill down my spine and caused tiny goose bumps to trickle across my skin. I felt consumed by the sight, as if the blood were seeping through my own car windows, suffocating me in its dreadful, viscous grasp.

Suddenly, I wanted nothing more than to be with my family, and I pressed on the gas pedal with significant force. The cop did not even blink an eye at my dramatic exit.

With shaking hands, I decided to skip driving all the way out to my cousin's country ranch, and head straight to the hospital. If my family was in fatal condition, I wanted to know, and the trip would be much shorter if I went straight there. I felt queasy and nervous for the rest of the forty minute drive, stopping only once because I was certain I was going to hurl. My battered vehicle rolled into the hospital parking lot with a thump, but nothing compared to the pounding nature of my heartbeat, which impaired my hearing significantly. I found a spot decently far away from the main entrance and stepped into the cool, September night.

  The sun was beginning its  descent, and the Minnesota weather showed no mercy. Sharp wind cut through my thin jacket, piercing my body with a violent shiver. The trees rattled their leaves and the steady hum of grasshoppers kept the evening alive. I jogged away from it all, nearing the bright "Main Entrance"  sign which was lit up in bold, red letters. After finally reaching my destination, I rushed through the automatic doors and into the crowded central hallway, which was overflowing with people. All around, women chattered on their phones, nurses ran to and fro, children limply followed their parents with sullen expressions masking their faces, and a few sick bodies weakly coughed into their thin hospital gowns while residing in black wheelchairs. In short, it was chaotic.

"Hi I was wondering if you could show me to the emergency rooms? There was a crash in my town, Argyle, and I need your-" I was cut off by the obnoxious demands of a determined thirty year old woman,

"Now, you're taking my son in right now. He can't breathe! Get him to a doctor before the poor thing suffocates!" She quickly lifted up her small son and shoved him into the thin arms of the nurse behind the counter, who looked petrified at first, then ran off with the boy to fulfill her duties. I stood, frozen for a moment, until I was bumped by another urgent case, this time a man complaining that he was having some sort of "calamitous reaction" to his medicine. I sulked away from the counter and decided to embark on the journey myself. If I were to be yelled at, I would firmly explain my reasoning, and hopefully be directed to the right area.

The hospital, although buzzing with activity, felt bleak and empty. The walls were a pale yellow, and the overbearing scent of sterilizer attacked my nostrils as I quickly turned corners, following the blue signs that had arrows pointing in specific directions.  I passed the ICU, the burn unit, and a number of patient rooms along my journey, which all made me feel dizzy and apprehensive.  At last, I found the white doors marked "EMERGENCY ROOM" in bold lettering, where swarms of doctors in long, white coats zoomed in and out. Some held clipboards, others held medicine bottles, but they all wore the same expression. It was one of determination mixed with exhaustion, which certainly did not fall shy of my expectations. As I neared the doors, however, I began to feel especially troubled, as if my entire family lay behind those doors, with a grim fate in their future.

I tried to think positively, but my mind seemed to steer clear of any hope, reminding me of the blood stained road and the gruesome description of the bodies. I pondered, for a brief moment, how no one seemed to care I was waltzing into the emergency room alone, but then I recalled the frenzied atmosphere of the entrance and  how many people needed help. I regained my focus and hustled into the corridor, finding that it was much like the main entrance, perhaps more frightening.  Families yelled and fought with nurses to see their loved ones, workers struggled to keep them under control, and all around phones were being dialed,  papers signed, hearts broken.

It was disgustingly entertaining, yet made my stomach churn at the same time. I ran up to the front desk where a nurse viciously pounded numbers into a phone then shouted for "Doctor Evans, NOW!" into it. I stepped back, intimidated once again, and questioned if this was all worth it. The chances of my family being in here were quite slim, I was sure they were safel-

"Daniel, come with me to see her. It's two family members at a time and I need to see if she is going to make it." I heard a voice, a familiar voice, that belonged to my best friend's mother.

"Mrs. Hawkins? Is that you?" I whirled around and found Samantha's mother, with puffy eyes and a handful of paperwork, tucked underneath the arm of her husband. I ran up to them but they did not turn around, and instead walked morosely together through a different set of doors. I turned to a male nurse behind me and looked deep into his eyes, hoping he would show mercy,

"I think my best friend is hurt from a car accident so I'm going to go see her with her parents, is that alright?" he blinked once then opened the door for me, and I quickly followed the Hawkins. The walk was short, the destination was horrifying. My best friend, Samantha, lay limply on a thin hospital mattress, making no expression. Her face was bloody and bruised, she had tubes running all around her, and her left arm was gone. She was barely recognizable, the sight made me weak in the knees. Hot tears poured down my cheeks, and then it hit me.

Samantha was not driving alone last night.

I swung back the curtain next to hers and found my parents huddled next to me.
Me.

I looked no better, but the sight was too much. I could not stare at my own dying self, nor could I look at my heartbroken parents. I tried to remember the evening before but could recall nothing. Suddenly, a doctor appeared and ushered both of our parents to speak with him. I followed in disbelief, hoping I was in some twisted dream world.

"We have found enough blood for one of the girls, but the types are very rare," he continued but I no longer wanted to listen. I went back to my moribund body, then gazed over at my best friend. I heard a mother's cry behind me and I knew it was one of ours, the one who would not survive. I closed my eyes, plugged my ears, and sank down to my knees. I had to drown out the horrible scream. I did not want to know which one of us was going to die.

Besides, I'd find out soon enough.