Another driver pulled over, but barely cracked her window. I need help! She said she’d call 911, but stayed in her car.

I waved a car down. The driver didn’t speak English. I freaked out and ran away.

I saw my reflection — crazed, dirty, bloody, with a sweater around my head.

Suddenly, A man had his arm around me. He said he was a doctor and that I’d be okay.

A bright roar of light. The fire had hit my gas tank.

Later, at the hospital, they put 14 staples in my head. I had no major injuries besides that. My car wasn’t so lucky. The fire burned everything down to metal.

I still have the charred license plate.

Strangely, I’ve never considered this a traumatic incident. In the moment, I was scared, a bit irrational — but a powerful instinct forced me to fight for my life.

If I hadn’t, I would have burned to death in that car. The End.

72 | D E S E R T

C O M PA N I O N

.

DECEMBER 2017

D E S E R T C O M P A N I O N .V E G A S