Friends and Enemies III: Wild Dreams

(The Past...)1

The courtroom buzzed with subdued activity I nervously sat beside my attorney, Ms. Harper. The judge, a stern figure, called the court to order.

"This is the trial of Edward Miller. Mr. Miller, you are charged with offenses under the jurisdiction of this court, specifically driving under the influence, operating a motor vehicle without a valid license, and fleeing the scene of an accident resulting in the demise of one Brett Stevenson. How do you plead?" Judge Reynolds inquired.

"N-nor- Not guilty, Your Honor." I stammered.

"Prosecution, you may proceed with your opening statement." he continued.

The air was tense.

Mr. Davis, the prosecutor, stood up and addressed the jury. "Ladies and gentlemen, the evidence will show that on the night in question, the defendant, a 15-year-old juvenile, was operating a vehicle under the influence of alcohol and without a valid license. This reckless behavior resulted in a tragic accident that claimed the life of Brett Stevenson. We will prove that Edward Miller is responsible for the events that unfolded that night."

I could feel the weight of those words as I anxiously listened. Ms. Harper then stood to present our opening statement. "Your Honor, members of the jury, the defense acknowledges the tragedy that occurred, but we will demonstrate that my client, Edward Miller, was not the sole cause of the accident. Eddie and his friend PJ were struck by another vehicle driven by a drunk driver. Our evidence will show that this was a terrible accident, not a deliberate act."

The prosecution began their case. "Your Honor, we have evidence of Mr. Miller's blood alcohol level exceeding the legal limit at the time of the accident, as well as the fact that he was driving without a license."

Interrupting, my defense attorney argued, "Your Honor, Edward is a young individual who made a mistake. However, it's crucial to recognize the shared responsibility in this unfortunate incident. The entirety of the incident can be attributed to Mr. Marques Gardner, who has admitted guilt to intoxication manslaughter. The defense is ready to demonstrate that the other driver was not only under the influence of alcohol but also multiple illegal substances. His reckless disregard for the safety of fellow road users was the primary factor leading to the death of Ms. Stevenson. Consequently, we respectfully request the dismissal of the third charge, Your Honor."

As the trial progressed, witnesses were called to testify. The first to take the stand was PJ, Under oath, he recounted the events leading up to the accident.

"We were celebrating Eddie's boxing victory, and the Langley Boxing Academy had just offered him a four-fight deal worth $201,000. We were on our way back to the hotel when another drunk driver hit us, causing the fatal accident."

Another driver caused the fatal accident?" The prosecutor cross-examined PJ "You allowed Mr. Miller, who was underage and intoxicated, to drive your vehicle. Did you not?"

PJ hesitated before answering, "Yes, but we were both drinking, and it was a mistake."

There were several members of the audience shaking their heads

"That would be all Mr. Johnson, thank you. Your Honor, the severity of the charges and the tragic outcome warrant the prosecution of Edward Miller as an adult. The family of the victim deserves justice for their loss"

"Yes, Your Honor, the family deserves justice. Eddie should be given the death penalty," PJ stated, drawing audible gasps from the jury members.

"How dare you, PJ!" I retorted. "You know what happened that night. I'm taking the fall for..."

A gunshot rang out, I felt my forehead, there was blood. PJ had shot me in the head. I fell to the floor, but I didn't hit the ground just yet. It was as though I had fallen into an endless pit, continuously falling and screaming, the ringing in my head growing louder and louder. It was as if gravity momentarily released its grip, and I found myself hurtling downwards into a void. 

Suddenly, I hit the ground, jolting awake. I leapt out of bed, my heart racing, and I was panting. The ringing persisted for several seconds as I grappled to regain control of my senses. Eventually, I managed to silence the alarm. It was 6 am. on Saturday morning.

My phone started to ring, it was PJ. The strange sense of betrayal lingered. My mind was clouded with so many thoughts, I lay back down trying to remember the events of that fateful evening, ignoring the call.

PJ's breathing was ragged, and blood streamed down his forehead from a wide gash as we both stood beside the dented truck on the dark, deserted road.

He was conscious again. "Oh, Eddie, this is bad. This is really bad," he started, his speech slurring as I supported him on my shoulder.

"Shh. PJ, conserve your energy; we need to get help."

"Phones. Our phones..."

"There's no signal, PJ. We're in the middle of nowhere. Just hold on, okay?"

I helped him into the back seat of the damaged vehicle, trying to make him as comfortable as possible. The night was cold, and the distant sound of crickets added an eerie backdrop to the unfolding events. We were in the middle of nowhere, far from any signs of civilization.

"PJ, I'm going to try to flag down passing cars. Stay here; I'll be back," I said, glancing at him with concern.

Just as I turned around, I heard a voice. "Sir! Sir! You've hit her. You've hurt my sister."

I couldn't see who was talking; it was too dark.

The snow was crunching behind me; I turned around. PJ was already limping away.

"Wait, PJ!" I shouted, running after him. But he didn't stop. He kept moving, his footsteps echoing in the stillness of the night.

"Come on, man, we gotta go!" PJ said, urging me to follow.

As we trudged along the deserted road, I felt a twinge of guilt as I glanced back at the battered truck, wondering what would become of the girl and her sibling.

The sun was rising now, and I could hear the sound of vehicles in the distance.

"Hear that?" I said, excited. "There's traffic; we'll get help soon, I promise."

PJ nodded weakly and collapsed on the side of the road. I tried to wake him, but he was out cold. I was getting anxious, and my leg was throbbing with pain.

"Stretch!" he called weakly, his eyes flickering open.

"PJ, I'm here. We're going to be okay," I reassured him.

"You've gotta go, man."

"What are you talking about, dude? I'm not leaving you. Let's go; we can make it together."

"They can't know. You gotta go. Take the car. Don't let them find you, Eddie."

I didn't understand what PJ was saying. I was confused, my mind reeling.

"Just go!"

"I can't do that, man. What's the matter with you? You're bleeding a lot, just hang on, okay? I'll get help, I promise."

PJ looked at me, his expression unreadable in the dim light. "This was all my fault."

"What are you talking about, dude? None of this is your fault."

"Everything that's happened, it's my fault. All of it. If it wasn't for me, you wouldn't be in this mess."

I was dumbfounded. PJ's words didn't make any sense.

"I'm the one who talked you into coming out with me, and I'm the one who got you wasted. It's all on me, man. And I can't live with that, knowing that I caused this. That I almost got you killed.

"What? PJ, no, that's crazy. You didn't force me to do anything. I wanted to come out with you, and I wanted to drink."

"You didn't want any of this. You're only 15. You don't know what you want. I'm 17, I should've known better. This is on me."

"PJ, no. Stop. We're gonna get through this together. We'll tell the police what happened. They'll understand. Everything's gonna be okay."

"It's not, and it never will be. You need to get out of here. Go, now. For me. Please."

I could hear the faint sound of sirens in the distance. It was getting loud, much louder than I remembered.

Startled by the banging sounds, I emerged from my slumber. I was drenched in sweat, the room oppressively hot, and the air felt thin. The distant wail of sirens added to the disorientation as I attempted to piece together the unfolding events. The persistent banging continued, accompanied by a voice calling out, "Mr. Miller!"

I wasn't sure if I was awake or dreaming again.

"Mr. Miller!" Patrick called out again. I threw on a tank top and ran to the door.

All I could see was fire, it was all burning down. 

"We've got to go! Come on!"

We hurried down the stairs, coughing and gasping for breath in the thick smoke.

Reaching the bottom of the staircase, we encountered a few neighbors.

We all gazed in awe at the unfolding scene. From our vantage point, we could only discern the smoke and occasional bursts of flames. Emergency responders were rushing past our apartment complex.

"Jenny, Jenny!" Patrick called out.

She turned around. "What's happening?" Patrick inquired.

"It's Chesher Peak," she replied. "The Chesher Peak High School is burning down."