Silence filled the cabin, neither knowing what to say. What to do.

“Should we call the cops?”

“No,” Rick-Rob was quick to say. “Someone must’ve heard the crash. They’ve probably already called.”

Nathan hesitated for a second before agreeing.

“Okay.”

It made sense, he thought, pushing down the anxiety that started to knot in his stomach. It was a populated area. There were houses here, houses that slowly started to roll by again as Rick-Rob maneuvered around the accident and kept on driving. Past Iris Road. The intersection at Iris Road. Nathan committed the information to memory, just in case. He thought he saw smoke rising from the scene of the accident in the rearview mirror, but it could be fireworks, or his imagination. Or maybe the car had caught fire and people were trapped inside.

It felt like an eternity had passed as he battled his indecision, but his phone was in his hand before he realized and he was already dialing 911. Rick-Rob didn’t react, not until he heard Nathan say his name to the operator.

“Dude, what are you doing?”

Nathan was too distracted, too focused on stamping down his anxiety to catch the panicked way in which Rick-Rob asked the question. So he answered just as distractedly before he resumed communicating with the operator, relaying information about the accident, the car wrapped around the pole, the location of it as best as he could remember, his words rushed and tinged with panic, all while batting away Rick-Rob’s hands as he tried to reach past Nathan’s hands to pry away his phone.

“Dude, what are you doing?” Nathan demanded as Rick-Rob screeched the car to a halt on the side of the road and reached again for his phone. Nathan pushed him off as he ended the call, kept the phone out of his reach.

An argument ensued, Rick-Rob yelling at Nathan, asking if he was insane, Nathan demanding to know what the hell was wrong with him. Think about it, Rick-Rob said. They were drunk, and high, and driving past the scene of that car accident. The cops would point their fingers at them. They were incompetent and lazy. They would put the blame on Rick-Rob because it was the most convenient explanation. But Nathan didn’t care. He needed to know. He needed to see who was in the car, if they were okay, if they had made it out. There was more yelling, pleading on Nathan’s part, until Rick-Rob relented with a frustrated huff.

Sirens were already wailing in the air, ambulances and police and firetrucks on the way to the scene by the time Rick-Rob came back. The scene had changed in the short while they were gone. The car was horizontal now, there was a fire, and a man was on the side of the road hunched over another body. Another person, Nathan corrected hastily, hating himself for thinking the person already gone.

“I can’t be here,” Rick-Rob reiterated, this time drawing Nathan’s attention to a bag of pills he pulled out of his jeans pocket as the sirens grew nearer.

Asshole.

Nathan grunted, didn't spare him a glance as he unbuckled his seatbelt and stumbled out of the car. Outside, people were already coming out of their homes, drawn by the sound of the crash, the rising smoke of the fire, the nearing sirens. Nathan didn’t see Rick-Rob drive off, he was only aware of the man on the road, doing chest compressions and calling what Nathan could almost make out as Aggie’s name.

No.

Denial took hold of him immediately.

It was not Aggie.

She was blonde. That person was not.

Still, he should help.

Nathan stumbled forward to do just that, the weightlessness he had enjoyed earlier now making him feel lost and untethered. He had to get a better look at the scene, to confirm that his ears were playing tricks on him, that it wasn’t Aggie. The sound of the sirens felt like they were in his head now, their flashing lights obstructing his vision.

That was not Aggie. It couldn’t be.

There was a commotion, tires screeching to a halt, doors slamming shut, people yelling and uniforms moving, directing people back into their homes, approaching the man (Maddox?) and not-Aggie with emergency equipment.

“Go back inside!”

A hand tugged roughly at his shoulder, making Nathan stumble.

“I don’t live here,” Nathan managed to push past the tightness in his throat. “I called you,” he said, staring past the uniform that kept pushing him back, away from the accident.

“You called it in?” the uniform asked, but Nathan wasn’t looking at them.

“Yes. Yes.” Paramedics approached the pair at the crash, pulling maybe-Maddox back and focusing their efforts on not-Aggie. “How are they? Are they okay? Is it Aggie?” Nathan craned his neck, trying to get a better look. “Is it Aggie?” he asked, raising his voice, but nobody answered. The uniform kept backing him away from the scene and blocked his view.

His heel backed into the curb and he lost his balance, the uniform holding him by the shoulders and guiding him to the ground. “Sit! Wait here.” Nathan flopped onto his ass, eyes vacant as he stared at uniforms managing the gathering crowd, taking control of the scene.

“Someone will be here to talk to you shortly,” the uniform said to Nathan, who nodded dumbly. The uniform gave Nathan’s shoulder a squeeze and a tight smile that Nathan assumed was meant to be reassuring. “It’s going to be okay, but I need you to stay here. Can you do that for me?”

“Yes. Okay.” His response was delayed, as if it took him a second to even process the question. With a tight nod, the uniform strode off and returned to the scene, leaving Nathan on the side of the road to watch the whole thing unfold with only one thought looping in his head.

It’s not Aggie.