WAKE ME UP BEFORE I DIE, Kennedy Brazier [robert munsch read aloud .TXT] 📗

CHAPTER ONE - The Road to the Crash

 

 

        

 

 

Wake Me Up Before I Die

Book I

 

 

 

The Struggles of Johnny Lureaux to find Purpose in a Lifetime Shadowed with Death

 

 Based On True Events

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

   

For All the Lost Souls Trying to Find Their Way;

 

Open the Possibility-If you should Dare -to Consider it Reality-Life Awaits for you There.

 

 

“Life is not separate from Death…It only looks that way”

….The Blackfoot Native American Tribe

 

  

“For I know the plans I have for you, plans to prosper you and not to harm you; plans to give you hope and a future” – Jeremiah 29:11

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER 1

*

 

There was silence at first, as Johnny began waking from the crash. Slowly, the sounds of the birds filtered through his confusion, cawing over the abundant August cornfield, lined for miles on the Holland, Michigan roadway. Then the black, annoying crows seemed closer and louder, their eerie cries became clearer now. He couldn’t remember where he was and he tried to move from out of the uncomfortable position he was thrown in at the impact of the crash. But inside of his 1957 Chevy Impala, Johnny lay dying, rolled upon his side, his body tucked together tightly, almost in circular form. He was so cramped together, lying there, confused and alone. His face was stiffened with terror confronting the open windshield as the only apparent vision; his knees were tucked beneath his chin, and his body was unable to move. The 27 year old body that he had taken for granted every day, was no longer in his control and it would no longer respond to his conscious demands for mobility. His mind spinning, Johnny tried to comprehend his situation again as he continued with attempts to regain movement from his confined position…

At first the image of a Korean Soldier standing over him with the rifle pointed down to his head, flashed before him…His heart raced with fear, returning to his tour in the Korean War…and Johnny lay frozen, terrified inside of his mind…anticipating the second gunshot that would penetrate his torso…the stinging bullet meeting his side, jerking his lifeless body up from off of the dirt floor. He had re-lived the scene of dying in Korea, too many times and his straying thoughts returned him to the forsaken nightmare… to a place where there was no pain with the emptiness that followed, and to the darkness he had become very familiar with.

     Usually what proceeded in the dream were the distant sounds of a soldier’s boots exiting his side… as it had been in reality, but a perplexed Johnny Lureaux was passing away inside of his car today. He was folded like a pretzel, hearing the drifting noise of cawing crows overcome the normal visions of an agonizing Korean ambush…He focused again….and a flash of daylight infiltrated its way through his clouded eyes, …Yes, crows..…His ears tuned into the sounds of the birds, but the self confirmation of reality, only left him even more confused.  

     His eyes blinked to listen closer to the crows, as thoughts gathered order in his distorted head…He was certain now …He heard the crows, cawing. I am inside of my car! He demanded something to remain factual, in the momentary realism of where he lay discombobulated. … What happened?…Where was Dottie, his new wife…where was Samuel his son? A truck had hit him. Yes, the bold blue letters across the top of the round white truck, of DEGROOTS FRESH MILK, tumbled through his memory, just like the images of the accident. A milk truck had come directly into his path...The bright lights of the large white truck had been blinding as it rushed towards him; the sound of its fog-horn lingered, coming at him so fast with its large high pitched screeching tires, as they both tried to stop. He became anxious, as flickers of the crash ran through his mind; the car spinning, flipping more times than he could count and then back upon its fours wheels like a performing acrobat. He remembered the glass shattering into his face, his 38 caliber handgun tumbling from underneath the seat, tossing in the air, as napkins and papers from the glove box, flew loosely with every roll of the car, and then the hard final bash of the car returning upright, to the paved road.

He tried to get up from his bent together position again, but he couldn't and when he tried to yell for help, he realized that he couldn't even speak. A pool of blood had escaped from a deep laceration on top of his head. The blood had thickened into a brown puddle around his skull and had infused a connection like glue between the seat and the side of his face. The rising morning sun cemented his heavy cheek into the drying blood, discoloring the smooth red leather car seat and made lifting his head an impossible task. He attempted to focus again, his vision slowly failing him.

Reflections of a pastel tinted kaleidoscope danced in front of Johnny’s eyes. Sparkles of sky blue, bright pink and orange and yellow moved around him like glimmering diamonds, illuminating his view. As the vision became clearer, Johnny could see that the origin of the twinkling colors came from the small pearl-beaded rosary that was strewn sideways across the top of the dash board. It was still hanging around the fallen detached front mirror. The crushed glass from the windshield covered the broken mirror with the dazzling rosary; creating an iridescent reflection beneath the warm autumn sun. The sight became hypnotic to Johnny’s wide-eyed fixed stare – as the colors flourished through the broken windshield.

       The glistening image was simply beautiful, so mesmerizing. He wanted to just stay inside the beauty of it all. It was like being alone in the middle of Lake Michigan on a hot summers day; so peaceful, with the sparkling summer lake, illuminating its warm reflection upon his face.

 

 

He was distracted from the enlightened daze with a cool feeling of a gusty breeze from the open space inside of his car. Johnny could hear, and then he could see, red lights flashing, as two blurred figures stood assessing the situation outside of his vehicle. Their voices along with their shadowed figures, faded in and out of Johnny’s mind, and yet the crows remained obvious in Johnny's diminishing sight.

The crows seemed as if they were swarming over him like vultures awaiting the death of their prey. Their black feathered wings soared opened and freely out of the exposed windshield and their motions seemed soothing in his view.

         The mechanical grind of an electric saw, cutting through the shiny silver painted metal of his new Chevy, awoke Johnny to reality and for a moment he was back at the Reynolds Steel Plant, working a 12 hour shift; cutting the sheet of metal on the assembly line. He thought it odd, that the heated light that he stood beneath brightened the monotonous running belt so intensely! It was quite peculiar; the light over him was so much brighter and warmer than he had ever seen the old dusty factory lamp before. It was glowing so brightly that it was almost blinding.  

        The screeching electric saw annoyed Johnny, returning him to his existing state and he heard their voices talking around him.

    He could only listen to them speak freely in conversation as they worked around his vehicle. They talked over him as if he was already dead. Sparks flew loosely with the cutting metal and as the golden sparks surrounded Johnny’s view his mind moved him to another place again.-

“Look up there, Sam! Look at those fireworks! Do you see them?” Johnny asked holding his one year-old son in his arms, and pointing towards the brightened night sky. Sam stared at the sky, as they both stood awed by the Fourth of July finale of gold and silver fireworks illuminating the downtown Chicago sky.

And then there was silence and he was back inside the small confinement of his car. When the sparks stopped flying outside of his car door, he heard the crushed metal fall to the pavement. Someone reached into the twisted vehicle where Johnny remained on his side.

         A muffled voice startled him as a hand reached inside of the car and touched his neck. “Nope." The medic’s voice was precise now as he pulled his blood covered rubber glove away from Johnny's cramped together body. He sighed conclusively. “I can’t get a pulse, this guy’s a D.O.A.”— He swept his hand in the air and motioned to the team of rescuers for further assistance.

He addressed the fireman’s team leader – “We’ll take him on into Grand Rapids as soon as you get him out of the car.” They nodded in understanding and the 2 paramedics leaned against their ambulance to await their passenger. They conversed as they waited for their passenger and watched the rescue team place Johnny on the gurney.

“Yeah, he’s gone…but at least the Milk Man wasn’t so bad off.” The paramedic stared at Johnny’s stiff, bended body. He touched his neck again. “Wow, he’s still having the nerve twitches so we can take his vitals again when we get him on the road, just to keep the records straight when they call the time of death.

“Look at him..., poor fella.-" the paramedic sighed deeply as he gazed over Johnny..."So many of them die in this fetal position don't they man? –Going out of this world, the same way that they came in… Balled up like they’re still in the womb…Clinging to whatever it is that they have left inside of them- I think they’re trying to hold on to something they still feel connected to..” He peeled the blood-stained gloves from around his wrist and shook his head from side to side with pity. “I never get use to this part of the job” he said, sadly.

“Aww, You think too much man”, his partner said as he scribbled across the report on the clipboard he held. “Death is just part of life, and this is another lost soul- going home. – It’s that simple.” He said and laid the clip board at the foot of the gurney. “Now let’s get him home.” He said nonchalantly, to his partner.

As they wheeled Johnny to the back of the ambulance an unbearable ringing echoed inside of his ear. Bits and pieces of their conversation came in and out of his hearing while he lay stiff and disoriented.

     Someone’s rubber hands were placed on his neck again, then on his wrist, and Johnny could see the hazy figure over him, shake their head from side to side, confirming death from an unresponsive corpse. He could no longer hear their words as the rescue crew member placed a DOA tag on his chest; normal procedures would allow the hospital to confirm the time of death.

They moved-almost in slow motion around him, becoming foggy shadows and he tried desperately to speak or to yell at the blurred forms handling his body, “I’m alive, I’m alive!! Please! I’m here and I’m alive!”

But he was dying, he could feel it. He knew that death was closer than it had ever been in all of his situations before. He could feel his heart pulsating like a slow base drum, beating inside of his ear canals; the beat,-echoing as it lingered inside of his head, as the clouded figures continued to move all around him. His face was positioned upward now, feeling the warm sun beaming down upon him as they wheeled him toward the awaiting ambulance.

“I’m alive!!!” he tried to say it again as he watched an enormous black shadow swoop over him. He tightened his eyes to focus on the object and saw an atrocious black