Eddie does not answer his phone after having called him three times, so I start to feel a panicky warmth behind my ears at the thought he would be dumb enough to talk to reporters. There is a reason he never talks to reporters as well as a reason he is only the factory worker and assistant PR rep instead of head PR. He sucks at talking to people; he sucks at making people feel comfortable with a situation. Suddenly my phone rings just as I am running a red light; that was my bad. I got distracted by the phone. I’m lucky I did not get into a wreck just then and that no one had been coming from another direction.

I fiddle with my phone, almost dropping it while attempting to answer it. It’s Eddie. About damn time. “What’s going on?” I practically shriek, “Give me an update. I’m almost there.”

“James…” Eddie sounds hoarse, “Someone else just died. We have two bodies heading to the morgue, and they’re pointing the blame our way. It’s already been confirmed that they were taking supplements from our new line. Five more people have been emitted to the hospital since we last spoke less than twenty minutes ago!”

I feel like I am going to pass out. “Don’t panic,” I say to Eddie, although it is mostly a reassurance for myself. I’m the one with a lot more to lose.

“Our stocks have already hit rock bottom.” I hear Eddie say, “Man –they’re worthless!”

“We’re going to fix this.” I say, “There will be an investigation, I’m sure. I’m sure we will find out it has nothing to do with our supplements. Why is this just now happening now, anyways?”

“It’s our new line of all-natural supplements; they’re saying. We just released it a few months ago.” Eddie says, “We make everything from the new stuff on the site, James. On site! If it is our supplements getting everyone sick, then there is no one to blame but us!”

I cringe. This is not good. The new supplement line with all-natural ingredients had just been released nationwide one month ago after doing a trial run for a few months in LA, our hometown. I cannot imagine what is about to take place. “Are the incidences just confined to LA right now?” I ask.

“No.” Eddie says anxiously, “It’s everywhere.”

“Damn,” I say under my breath, slamming on my breaks to avoid getting into a fender bender with the slowing traffic. Pay attention; I tell myself after almost hitting a pedestrian; the guy flicks me off as he hurries across the street. Can’t really blame him; I did almost hit him, and he had been in the crosswalk. I do one of those awkward apology waves that drivers do when they know they’re in the wrong.

The guy bucks up at me before getting out from in front of my car and completing his journey across the street. “Asshole!” he screams.

I speed away, continuing my unsafe driving. I know I should be more careful, but I am too anxious to take it slow. I need to get to the office and factory building immediately to calm down the press and try to get to the bottom of whatever this is. “There’s some damn protestors here.” I hear Eddie say, snapping me back into the conversation.

“Protestors?” I question.

“A bunch of stupid college kids with nothing better to do.” Eddie hisses into the phone, “I swear, one of them threw some popcorn at me when I pulled up. It’s like they all went to the fucking movies and got bored with the film and headed here instead.”

“Man alive.” I say, “Level with me, man. How bad is it there?”

“The cops are keeping the protesters back –the reporters too, but the cops are here with a warrant, man. I’ve talked them into waiting until you get here, though.” Eddie says, “We’re screwed if they find something wrong with the supplements.”

“What are the chances that they do find anything?” I ask.

“I don’t know,” Eddie says.

“What do you mean you don’t know?” I snap, “You’re the head of the factory operations!”

“Yeah, but we’ve never used anything sketchy in our supplements!” Eddie shouts, “Especially not in the all-natural stuff we just released. It’s all herbs and vitamins and dried fruit. Nothing that should be hurting anyone.”

In the background, I can hear the protestors chanting something unintelligible. I could scream, “All right, Eddie just holds them off a little longer. I’m less than ten minutes out, and when I get there-”

I’m not able to finish my sentence. It would happen when I’m actually going through a green light rather than the two red lights I have run. I can’t see what type of car it is, but it t-bones me as I am coming through the intersection. Everything sort of happens in slow motion. I know my car flips. I’m not sure how many times. The screeching sound of metal on metal pierces my ears. I feel my lip smack into the steering wheel before the stupid airbag deploys and slaps me in the face. The side of my head hits the window during one of the flips. I obviously lose my phone, and it flies around the inside of the car –landing God knows where.

It feels like an eternity before my car stops flipping, landing upside down, of course, because my luck is just that awful right now. My head is throbbing. I look at my stomach and see blood on my white button up that I threw on under my suit jacket. My tie is flapping down in my face since I am hanging by my seatbelt. My head…

I can faintly hear Eddie’s voice, “James? James? James!” Is he worried about me? I guess that’s a good sign considering I unknowingly slept with his girlfriend not too long ago. I was starting to think that our relationship was starting to be strictly a business one. I have never been so dizzy in my life. My head is throbbing, and I’m worried about all the blood I see. I try to unbuckle my seatbelt, but my fingers are numb. The seatbelt is jammed.

This is not good. I start to see things through tunnel vision. I can hear someone shouting, “Call 9-1-1! Someone call 9-1-1!”

Someone is looking in through the shattered driver’s door window. I’m hardly able to move as my mind catches up with me; I start to realize that I am in a lot of pain, but the realization comes slowly as it works its way into my reality. The person staring in at me reaches in and puts his finger to my throat –is he checking my pulse? Do I look dead to him? “Sir, can you hear me?” the man asks. “Can you tell me your name?”

“James.” I say, “James Mont.”

“Sir?” he did not understand me, “Sir, can you tell me your name?”

“James,” I say again, but this time, I can hear myself. I’m not making any sense. My words are slurred. I open my mouth to speak again, and I see blood drip onto the roof of my car. The blood is starting to rush to my head –which is not good considering that I think I have a gaping wound somewhere on my head or neck or something like that.

“Help is on the way.” The guy says and I feel him gently lift my head up, “I can’t get you out.” He says, but I’m just glad he’s moved my head to where it’s not dangling anymore.

I groan loudly. My tunnel vision gets worse. I pass out just as I start to hear the sound of an approaching ambulance in the background.