Christopher Eagle - Highway Five

Christopher Eagle

Dedicated to Tadums, my bullfrog who died  June 20th.

Highway Five
June 14th 2012

Insects chirped in the darkness, and the sound of a bullfrog singing with a deep throaty croak, filled the still, humid early morning air. This all ended abruptly when a speeding car flew down the road at high rate of speed and something was thrown out, discarded like unwanted trash. It was not garbage, it was a man. The bullfrog leapt out of the way of the man and vanished into the reeds.

The man was nude, barely conscious when he was thrown out of the vehicle. Laughter and squealing tires reached his ears as he rolled like a rag doll down the embankment into a ditch. Bruised, broken and bloodied, he lay still. The wetness of the earth, and the smell of damp soil roused him just enough to allow him to realise he was in danger. He needed to get help and laying in a ditch hidden in amongst the bull rushes would not get him found quickly.

With a small amount of focus he found the energy to dig his fingers into the dirt and pull himself forward and upward. He could feel intense pain shooting up his legs, breathing was difficult, each breath felt like spikes were being driven into his lungs. He attempted to do smaller, shallower breaths; but still it stabbed with an intensity. He dug his left foot into moist soil, his right leg would not respond, and pushed until he reached the rough gravel of the road's shoulder. He lay there once more unmoving and attempted to gain his bearings.

He was on high ground, he could see the lights of a city, through the trees, just south of him and a deep blackness that reflected the moonlight. He knew he was near a lake, the name of the lake could not come to mind, it seemed large. There seemed to be a high bridge in the distance and west of that he could see three jets of flame that indicated some heavy industrial area. Where was there industry on a large lake? His mind was hazy and he could not think, let alone remember details.

Insects resumed their song, although the bull frog remained hidden unsure if the human threat was gone.

As the man inhaled, he caught the heavy metallic scent of blood and the almost oily scent of road side dirt. His tired fingers felt down his side to his thigh, he could feel a lot of sticky dampness, pain and something hard, and sharp sticking up from his thigh; A broken leg it seemed. He gathered that the pain in his chest was possibly a punctured lung from multiple broken ribs. It was a strong possibility as he his breaths were bubbly, and the taste of blood was strong in his mouth. His head throbbed angrily, and blood seemed to be running down the side of his face. Exhausted, he dropped his cheek to the gravel and lay there waiting for whatever fate would come to him. The cool humid summer air gently moved his hair coal black hair which ticked his nose. The breeze was the only thing he could consider pleasant and he tried to focus on that and that alone.

He could hear the sound  of tires on asphalt and he raised his head, worried that his attackers would be returning to finish him off. The way he felt, he was not sure that would be a bad thing. The rumble of  the engine was different, not the throaty rumble, but softer and gentler. It was not the same vehicle that abandoned him with such violence. All the same, he tensed up as the car pulled to a stop just before where he lay. He could hear as the occupants quickly vacated their vehicle and their feet crunched across the rocky surface as they ran to his side.  

One of the two people knelt next to him. “Hey there buddy, you okay? Can you hear me?” warm fingers pressed to his throat. He tensed again, but his energy was drained. He could hardly breathe and warm fluids were weeping out of his mouth. He moaned in response.

“Okay, he's alive. Terry, call an ambulance, and the police.” The man who was next to him rose to his feet and ran back to the car then returned with a small package. “I can't move him too much the leg is busted pretty bad, but he's got a bad head wound...”

“I'm dialling, find any wallet on him?”

“No, because he's naked and I don't see any clothes nearby.” the other responded. “Mister, my name is Rick, and that's my brother, Terry. I am going to attempt first-aid,” he declared as he put on a pair of nitrile gloves. He removed some packets from the small first-aid kit then unwrapped them. A handful of gauze pads and gently pressed it to his holding it in place.

“Yeah, 911, we found a man, naked, on the road, badly injured - looks like he's been beaten half to death.... Yeah, hang on...” the man covered the mouth piece and shouted to his friend “Hey Rick, is he breathing? Conscious, anything?”

“Breathing, sounds wet...tell them to hurry... he seems to be vaguely aware.”

“Yeah, he's breathing... Oh Dundas - Highway Five and Brant Street, half a block from that intersection heading west. No, we were just passing on the road and found him laying there. Okay, thanks – we have a first aider on hand.”

“Rick, help is on the way, keep talking to him,” Terry ran back to the car and opened the boot and removed a brilliant orange box marked: Emergency Road Side Kit. He broke open some aged flares and put them around the car and the injured man to serve as a warning to other motorists. He removed a safety vest and donned it. He unfolded a thin blanket tossed it over the back of the man, to provide protection from exposure and to give him some level of dignity. In the distance the sound of sirens could be heard, steadily growing louder.

“What's your name?” Rick kept asking the man.

The injured man blinked his eyes open and whispered, “I don't know,” then fell into unconsciousness.

The ambulance, fire and police pulled up their lights flashing bathing the area in a disco like display of red white and blue flashes. Those cars that did pass slowed down in an effort to get a good view of the incident wondering what was going on.

The paramedics started medical treatment then they carefully hoisted the man onto a stretcher. The proceeded to hook him up to I.V. Bags, and an oxygen mask. They quickly loaded him into the back. Then the ambulance pulled out, triggering its sirens and screamed down the road.

The man had multiple fractures, skull, chest, and right leg. His face was bruised and swollen as if he had been punched severely before being thrown to die. His body was marked with unusual long healed scars.  

The police taped off the area and began their investigation of the scene. By first questioning Terry and Rick about the scene when they arrived. While other police searched the immediate area for clothing, weapons or any form of I.D.

*  *  *

News quickly hit television, internet as well as local radio.

“Police are looking for anyone on information on a man that was found on Highway five last night, in north Burlington. He's a white male, five-foot nine, medium build with black shoulder length hair and brown eyes. He was found without identification. Any information, please contact Halton Police, OPP or Crime Stoppers.”