Adam’s Encounter With Fate

The nostalgic tunes of ABBA flew smoothly in the realm of his car on his way back from work. It was a peaceful, breezy autumn afternoon. Scenes on the sides were seriously familiar in a road where he commuted back and forth for years. Familiarity bred boredom and his brain signaled a heavier touch of his foot on the pedal enabling a higher speed that may distort the encompassing silence.

Far away appeared the vague shape of a truck. One of those giant vehicles that look like ensuing death. It was disturbingly faster than it should be. With a sudden urge for madness, he drove faster to catch the far truck. It was a regular fuel truck. As he approached it, he saw a wide field on the side with golden wheat spikes glowing at the twilight. He felt relaxed, and abandoned the racing for a while to soak this beauty. Suddenly, a loud hitting sound broke out. He saw the truck back wheels running over a bicycle and its rider leaving him on the side floating in blood. He screamed in panic and kept honking the horn hysterically while cursing the truck’s driver.

He stopped just before the rider, got off his car without thinking while calling loudly the escaping driver. His heartbeat accelerated as he came closer to the lying body. The chest of the young victim was gripped by heavy and hectic breathing, the face buried in dust, the arms full of bruises and the legs bleeding under the shredded jeans and still wrapped around the bicycle whose wheels were squashed, wires dismantled and handlebar broken.

A stomach pain pervaded him and his face cramped. He was overwhelmed by sadness and pity, and his mind stuck at what he should do now. He disregarded the idea of carrying him to his car. That could evoke a lot of suspicion, he thought. Eventually, he figured that the way out of his perplexity is to get on his car and run to catch the culprit or inform any police patrol he could meet.

As he was opening the door of his car, he heard the loud voices:

-STOP HERE. DON’T MOVE.

He turned to find some farmers rushing at him from the wide field, some carrying sticks and some stones. He shivered as he realized how critical his situation is, and decided not to risk their uncalculated rage by entering the car. However, despair grew into him as he watched their angry and geared up faces. Losing hope in any kind of clarification, he slit his hand into the glove box, picked his gun and pointed it at them while shouting with a rather broken voice:

*Don’t come any closer.

At a glance, he realized that with his fearful move, he killed any possible upcoming resolution for this predicament, but there was not time for wiser acts. They halted their attack and stood few meters away, showering him with hateful looks. The pointed gun paralyzed them and left them boiling. One man said:

-Do you want to kill us as you killed him?

*I didn’t kill him. I didn’t touch him. He was overrun by a fuel truck.

-By your car.

*You haven’t seen anything.

-We saw everything.

*You’re preventing me of catching the fugitive vehicle.

-You just want to run away.

They were afraid, furious and unpredictable. He was scared to death that they could force him to shoot them. How could he end up killing any of them in a frenzy of craziness? Would he take someone’s life? What an inescapable crisis would that be? He wished it was a nightmare, but he was desperately sure, there is no waking up from that.

*Believe me please! I haven’t touched him, and I saw this truck hit him.

-No-one hit him but you.

-You had to report him to the nearest hospital.

*I did.

-And Police?

*I did.

-Then we wait here, and by God’s will, the truth will come out.

-Don’t run away, and the truth would finally reveal itself.

*For God’s sake, why are you insisting on a falsehood.

-For God’s sake, why did you kill him?!

What an unthinkable torture? When would that infernal waiting be over? Slow torment, fear and horrible thoughts suffocated him. Why did he stop? How could the truth ever be revealed?

The lying man moaned in agonizing pain, and one of the farmers said:

-May God take revenge on you.

*May He take revenge on the offender.

-That is you.

*Is that what I deserve for stopping for him?

-You thought, you were alone.

*I thought, I would save him.

-Save him?!!!

*There is no point talking to you.

-Yes, no point.

If he showed the slightest hint of running away, he would be macerated with their stones. There is no escape of this absurdity. No way to the fugitive truck. He alone is the scapegoat. Innumerable horrors stand between him and salvation. How would they determine responsibility? What would the ruling be? Could that poor young man make it through his injuries?

He resented them, and they reciprocated his resentment.

An ambulance and a couple of police cars arrived, the medics carried the victim carefully and some soldiers moved the gathering farmers away from the bicycle while the officer scanned the crime scene. He turned to him:

+You?

The farmers confirmed loudly until the officer silenced them with a move of his hand and kept looking at him waiting for an answer:

*No. I was driving behind a fuel truck and he was riding the bicycle at the side of the road. Suddenly, there was a cry and I saw him under its back wheels.

Many shouted:

-He ran over him.

*I haven’t touched him; I was just a witness.

The officer asked again:

+Did you see the accident when it happened?

*No. I freaked out when I heard the cry, and when I turned, I saw the bicycle under the wheels.

+But, how did he fall beneath?

*I don’t know.

+And what did you do afterwards?

*I got off my car to see what happened to him and if I could help. I wanted to catch the truck, but I saw them running at me with sticks and stones, so I had to warn them with my gun.

+Do you have a license?

*Yes.

The officer turned to the farmers and asked:

+Why do you accuse him?

They raced to answer:

-We saw him with our eyes, and we stopped him from running away.

*They are liars, they haven’t seen anything.

Some soldiers stayed to watch the location, and the officer took everybody else to the station to write a report. He insisted on his statements, and the farmers on their accusations.

Adam asked:

*Why would I stop, if I was really the convict?

The officer answered with indifference:

+You are not supposed to hit and run!

They all stayed waiting; the farmer on the floor and Adam on a seat with permission from the officer. Time passed heavy, bleak and thick. As soon as the report was finished, they were all but ignored by the officer, who spent the time reading newspaper.

Why do the farmers insist on accusing him? How can they be so sure about their testimony? Were they deluded? Did one of them explain the situation with what usually happens, not with what actually happened, and the rest just followed blindly? The only hope is the injured man. He is the only one who could shatter this nightmare with one word.

Adam asked the officer with supplication:

*Could you check the status of the injured man?

The officer didn’t like the distortion, but he called and asked.

+He is being operated. He lost a lot of blood and the outcome cannot be predicted.

He thought for moments and asked:

*When would we stand before prosecution?

+You will know when it is time.

He said as if he is talking to himself:

*Why do people like me find themselves in such situations?

The officer answered as he got back to the newspaper:

+Maybe you have the answer.

He felt alone and looked full of loathing at the place. Those farmers would like to finish him off, and he would do it to them if he could. This officer does his job like a robot. A certain unknown blind force is grinding him. He committed a lot of wrongs but there isn’t a single thread of reason that ties this chaos together. He sighed and mumbled:

*O Lord!

The farmers replied for contradicting reasons:

-O Lord!

With a fragmented temper, he shouted:

*You have no conscience.

They yelled back:

-God is the judge between us and you.

The officer stopped reading again and told everybody angrily:

+No. I don’t permit that here.

Adam said with grudge:

*If not for perjuries, I would have been safe in my home.

-If not for your carelessness, the poor injured man would have been safe in his home.

The officer threatened them with a fiery look that knit their lips. Silence prevailed and the pain of waiting intensified. Time passed as if moving backwards. In a moment of despair, Adam asked the officer again very politely:

*Sir, I think you can imagine how much I am enduring. Could you please let me know when would we stand before prosecution?

From behind the newspaper, he answered:

+Do you think your accident is as important as the other more serious incidents that I face everyday?

All this adversity is unimportant?! All his hopes that are threatened with destruction are unimportant?! The mysterious animosity between him and the farmers is unimportant?!

As time flew, it wore him down, and he didn’t care anymore what he was risking:

*Sir!

He interrupted with impatience:

+Won’t you stop talking?

*I am actually suffering here.

+If I sympathized with every sufferer in this station, I would die.

*Couldn’t you at least ask about the injured man?

+I would announce the news once I get them.

My life is hanging on the life of that man. The circumstances could easily mislead the prosecution. Is me going to jail without a sin unimportant?!

Wouldn’t it be simpler to just throw all these loads and smile recklessly? You were about to cry, and here is laughing about to conquer you. Remember your old sins, may that justify what you are going through. May that ease this burden. But, no; there is no connection or relation. Chaos cannot be treated with chaos. Those farmers are looking through black glasses that were imposed on them by several generations, but I wasn’t part of that? Or was I?

Here I am thinking for the first time in my life. I would still think a lot behind prison walls. Chance! Fate! Luck, intention, work. The golden wheat spikes, the farmers, the officer and the man. Fuel, trucks and reading newspaper at the police station. Everything I do and don’t remember. Everything must be thought of again, as a thing and as a whole. I must start from the very beginning to control everything.

He said with a strong voice:

*That is unbearable.

The officer’s face appeared above the newspaper with a condemning look, but Adam continued sharply:

*You are reading the newspaper and doing nothing.

+How dare you talk to me like this?

*As you heard.

+Aren’t you afraid?

*I don’t fear anything.

+If you lost your mind, I have a cure for every sickness.

*I also have a cure for every sickness.

The officer stood and said furiously:

+You?!!

*You are delaying the prosecution. You are hindering the law.

+I will imprison you.

*Is it much worse than this chaos?

+Are you trying to fake insanity?

Adam stood challenging with lost eyes, and the officer called one of the soldiers, but the phone rang. The officer answered and listened for a while, then turned to look at Adam with gloating and malice, trying to hide his smile:

+The man died of his injuries.

Adam’s face froze for a second. He received the officer’s gloating with wild anger and said with a tremulous voice:

*The law hasn’t yet said its word and I am waiting for it.