419

They climbed down on grappling lines, leaning into their descent, the lights of the fire trucks and ambulances washing the scene in alternating reds and blues, throwing shadows first one way and then the next. Countless constellations in the snow. Glass, catching the light.

When the emergency team finally arrived at the bottom of the embankment, they were out of breath.

Within the folded metal of the vehicle: a buckled dashboard, bent steering wheel, more glass and in the middle something that had once been a man. White hair, wet against the skull, matted now in a thick red mud.

"Sir! Can you hear me?"

His lips were moving as the life poured out of him to wherever it is life goes.

"Sir!"

But no words came out, only bubbles.

From 419 by Will Ferguson. Copyright Will Ferguson, 2012. Reprinted by Permission of Penguin Canada Books Inc.