I’d been called in for an accident backup outside of Perma. A Studebaker had struck a guardrail post and flipped over on its top. Railer had made it to the scene first. I saw the red glare of his cherry light. It was early afternoon and the sun was beating off the bumper. The top of the car was almost flat. It was going to be rough, I thought. I stopped my car and reached for my flares.

“I got cones in the back of my vehicle,” Railer said. He was standing casually next to the wreck, his arm resting on the underside of the car like he was leaning on a fence, chatting with a neighbor. I detected a grim smile on his face and I thought he was a cruel bastard. I avoided looking at the vehicle upside down on the hot pavement. I had to steady myself. Railer got a kick out of me when I got sick by the roadside. He’d seen me more than once heaving my lunch into the weeds. And he feels free to comment on my predicaments. “See you had egg salad for lunch,” he would say, and his comments would make me sick all over again. I guess he thought he was funny. He’s a sick SOB. I took some deep breaths. “Try the trunk,” he says to me. I grabbed the keys from the ignition. I saw a magpie flutter to a fence post, the sky was the blue of blue veins, the blue of a white man’s eyes. I could smell hot road tar and a faint whiff of wild rose. I wanted to be out in that field. I felt a particular swell of lonesome. Since I began working for law enforcement I saw the landscape differently, littered with glittering chrome, beads of broken turn signals, busted headlamps silver in sunlight, steering wheels teetering from the high branches of a tree, hub screws, baby bottles, schoolchildren’s notebook papers, lipstick holders, car registrations, love letters. We found them all. The miles were haunted. I rubbed my neck and grabbed the cones. Railer was squinting at me. I heard then the high, shrill voice of a man. “Get me out of here,” he screamed. Railer hunched down by the car door and grinned into a few inches of squashed window. I dropped the cones quickly, almost relieved. I could see the red face of a white man. His tie fluttered with his breath when he spoke, spitting directions at us. I surveyed the door.

“Are you feeling any pain?” I asked the man as I crowded next to Railer and checked the door.