There are few places in America left like Overlook Hill. A small farm town down south where everyone went to the same church on Sunday, and everyone knew everyone's business. The thing about Overlook Hill is, well, there isn't much to say about it. The last time excitement came to this rinky-dink town was when Chester Chegnaw got caught stealing livestock from Jimbo Trainer's shed. It was the talk of the town for months; beat the hell out of discussing crops. Since then, the United States has fought in over five major wars, had several economic recessions, and put men on the moon. Now, over sixty years later, Pete Crickshaw was driving his father's pickup back from the Chegnaw farm (owned by the same family of the late, great Chester Chegnaw of legend) to pick up some feed for the horses. Pete's family called him "Scooter" after he tried to ride a hand-truck down a slope and almost busted his arm. It would have been the story of the week if Mick Twitty's tractor hadn't busted in the middle of his field.
Scooter was a young man of eighteen, at the top of his class, albeit there were six kids in the school, a hard-worker, and a loyal son and brother. He wasn't bothered by Overlook Hill's quaintness, but he didn't particularly enjoy it either. He hoped to one day go on to college and become an engineer, which would make him the first college graduate in the town's history.
While driving back from the Chegnaw farm, Scooter grew excited knowing his college letters would be arriving in the next few weeks. The decision from his dream school, the Georgia Institute of Technology, weighed especially heavy on his mind.
Scooter checked the time on the watch his father gifted him on his birthday a few months earlier, thinking,
“Damn, ten o’clock already, better hurry.”
Scooter was driving on Dundam Lane, a road infamous to Overlook Hill as its numerous bumps and twists made for an uncomfortable ride. He thought taking the extra time to find the expressway would get him back to the farm faster. The roads were quiet as usual, even the main roads outside of Overlook Hill were almost always barren. Making sure the road was clear, Scooter punched the gas pedal and hurdled to his family’s farm. Like most teens, flying down the road with no one to stop them gave Scooter a huge adrenaline rush. He had been driving at close to eighty miles per hour, straight ahead with no one in sight.
Scooter looked up at the sky to a lone cloud passing through the light reflected off of the moon. He felt free. Even though he had affection for his home, Scooter felt joy in being unbounded. He came closer to his exit, and slowed down the truck. He parked on the side of the house, and went inside. His father was still awake, peering out the window in the back of the house overlooking the fields.
“Hey Paw…sorry I’m late, I got caught up at the Chegnaws’ and just lost track of--”
“Just shut your trap and get onto sleep. Maw and I’ve been worried sick ‘bout you.”
Scooter felt uneasy. His father didn’t usually snap at him, especially for something like this.
“I know Paw, but I was just doing what you asked me to!”
“Don’t gimme that backtalk, boy. Get on up those stairs before you get taught.”
Shocked and, even more so, confused, Scooter walked up the stairs to his room. As he was about to close the door, he heard his father’s voice.
“Boy… you’re gonna be a great farmer someday.”

“What is happening?” Scooter thought to himself. He had too much on his mind, and his father’s mood swings were making him anxious. He pushed his worries back for the next day, and fell asleep.
Waking up the next morning, a familiar smell hit Scooter’s nose. Eggs and grits, his favorite. Scooter hurried down the stairs, itching to eat. When he came down, he was even more surprised to his father making breakfast.
“Wow Paw… this is great food right here.”
“Eat up, boy, we got ourselves a long day today.”
Scooter couldn’t tell what was going on with his father. He was acting like he didn’t remember the night before, like he just wiped it from his memory. Scooter decided to wait a few days to see how his father acted before saying something. Maybe his father just had a bad night.
He and his father spent the day plowing the fields and tending to the animals. It was taxing work, but like any good farmer, there was a sense of pride in what they did. By the time the two had finished their work, it was eight o’clock. Fourteen hour work days are no strangers to farm folk.
“Boy, I’m gonna need ya to head on back to the Chegnaw’s, get summore feed and hay. Tell em’ don’t be stingy with us now.”
“Yessir, I’ll be on my way.”
As he hauled himself into his father’s pickup, he couldn’t help but remember the night before. Scooter still didn’t know what to make of his father’s reaction last night, and he couldn’t stop replaying the events in his mind. He reached the Chegnaws’ and loaded the supplies in the pickup.
Just like the night before, Scooter decided to drive down the expressway, only this time he went faster. Much faster. The speedometer climbed near one-hundred miles per hour. Scooter felt uneasy. He wanted to slow down, but couldn’t. He started breathing heavily, and tried to calm himself down. He took his foot off the accelerator and coasted down the road, slowly losing speed. He finally felt like he was in control, and focused on the road. By now, the roads were dark. Scooter knew the roads were empty they always were. Just as he was about to turn back into Overlook Hill, a large figure came barreling towards him. The figure didn’t stop. It didn’t move. It looked destined to hit the truck and there was nothing that could be done. A few seconds later, Scooter’s body was thrown into the back of his chair, his head slamming hard against the seat. His vision became hazy, and he felt unsteady. He got himself out of the driver’s seat and on to the pavement, where he collapsed.

About an hour later, Scooter’s father heard the phone ring from the kitchen. Having just finished a long days’ worth of chores, he certainly was not in the mood to take a call.
“Whaddya want? Don’t ya know it’s late!”
“Is this the Crickshaw residence?” a sullen voice asked
“How do ya know that?” snapped Mr. Crickshaw
“Sir, your son Peter was in a car accident about an hour ago. When the paramedics arrived he was bleeding from the head, and was unconscious. He’s here at Sacred Heart Hospital in the Trauma wing in critical condition. Can I help you in any way, sir?”
In that moment, Mr. Crickshaw came close to collapsing himself. He didn’t bother

hanging up, leaving the phone dangling by the cord, and yelled for his wife and started up his other truck.
Peter’s parents arrived at Sacred Heart Hospital about fifteen minutes later. He rushed through the Trauma wing’s front doors shouting,
“Where’s my boy, where’s my boy?!”
A doctor ran over to him with a chart in hand,
“Sir you must be Mr. Crickshaw. I’m Dr. Michaels. Please come with me.
Pete’s father took his wife’s hand and walked behind Dr. Michaels and followed him into his office.
“I have some good news, and some bad news.”
Pete’s parents stared in anticipation.
“The good news is that we were able to return Peter back to a more stable condition. There was blood flooding his lungs which we were able to extract in time.”
Mr. Mrs. Crickshaw held each other’s hands tightly.
“The bad news…Mr. and Mrs. Crickshaw… is that, Peter had massive cerebral hemorrhaging and lost a lot of blood. He was without oxygen for some time and has…slipped into a coma. I’m terribly sorry.”
Pete’s mother threw her hands over her face and fell sobbing into her husband’s lap. Mr. Crickshaw could only stare at Dr. Michaels, his eyes begging to learn more about what was going to happen to Peter.
“Will I…will I see my boy again?” Mr. Crickshaw stammered.
“I’ll take you right to him”
In his bed, Pete looked peaceful, as if he was merely taking a nap. In his mind, though, he was panicking. The doctors all thought he was in a coma, and to a certain extent he was, but there was more. Pete couldn’t move or speak, but he could still hear and feel. He was trapped in a prison of his own body.
“Oh Jesus, oh Jesus” Pete thought to himself, “Am I dead? Where am I?”
He heard a door creak open, followed by footsteps.
“Here he is Mr. and Mrs. Crickshaw” Pete heard.
“Mon and Paw!” thought Pete, “I guess I am alive!”
“I’ll leave you alone with your son. We’ll check his progress over the next few days and we’ll talk about how to proceed.” Dr. Michaels exited the room, gently closing the door behind him.
Pete’s father, with tears in his eyes, pulled up a chair and stroked his son’s hair. “I’m sorry, boy, I’m so sorry…”
His father’s touch calmed Peter’s troubled and panicking mind. Knowing his mother and father were here comforted him, but also troubled him more. Peter could speak to his parents, he could not show them that he was still with them, and he could not do anything to console them. All Pete could do was lie down in darkness and listen to his parents’ cries.
“I’m always here for ya boy, always here…”
For the next few hours all Pete’s parents could do was look at their son and whisper that things would get better, even though part of them truly felt that Pete had already left.

The next few days were especially hard on the Crickshaw’s. To the knowledge of Pete’s doctors, Pete was not doing any better, and appeared that the coma may be permanent. Pete was still imprisoned in darkness, and prayed desperately that he could somehow show that he was alive.

“Mr. and Mrs. Crickshaw, we haven’t seen much improvement with your son’s condition. We monitored his brain activity and it’s essentially negligible. We understand it is a difficult decision to make, but I think it’s time to discuss letting your son go.”
Pete’s father slammed his hands on Dr. Michaels’s desk and shouted,
“You’re jus’ gon’ kill my boy? To hell with ya then, you’re no doctor! Killing your patients, is that how it works ‘round here?”
Dr. Michaels mustered up all the sympathy he could for the heartbroken father standing before him, “Mr. Crickshaw, I can’t say that I know how you feel because I don’t. I’ve never had to face losing a son. Now, for what it’s worth, we’ve done all we can. We’ll continue to attend to your son, of course, but you need to make this decision. Do you want to let your son go, or leave him lying there like a vegetable, with nothing but machines keeping his body alive? “
Pete’s father knew deep down what he had to do, but he could not bring himself to pull the plug on his own son.
Meanwhile, Pete continued to lie there, with only his thoughts to comfort him, still praying the same prayer that he might be able to do something to show the doctor’s he was still on Earth. He tried flexing every muscle in his body. He tried to life his feet, then his legs, then his arms. No luck. He tried to hum, then he tried to speak, and then he tried to scream. Nothing. He felt his eyes begin to water and swell, and the Pete realized he could move his eyes. He moved them rapidly back and forth, in the hopes that someone might see him with a sign of life.

Pete’s parents held each other in Dr. Michaels’s office coming to terms with the options they had before them. Give their son over to God or leave him a shell of his former self. They decided to wait a few more days, and if there was no improvement, they would leave their son to rest.
***
During the next two days, Pete waited to hear the creak of his door. Each time a nurse came in, he would move his eyes like a madman, hoping for the small chance that one of them would notice. No luck. Five times his door opened, but no one had seen. Pete didn’t know his parents were deciding his fate at this very moment. Pete had faith that he would fully wake up.
Mr. and Mrs. Crickshaw walked in to Sacred Heart Hospital at 10:30 AM two days after they were told that their son was essentially a lifeless husk. They walked in with blank expressions, holding each other tightly as they requested to see Dr. Michaels.
“Now Maw, you know he’ll be in a better place. Trust God, he’ll take care of our boy.”
Pete’s mother rested her head on her husband, saying nothing. She had been crying the entire night, and had fainted of exhaustion. A Nurse came out to escort them to Dr. Michaels’s office.
“Doctor, it’s… time…it…” Mr. Crickshaw could barely speak, “It’s time to let Petey…go.”
Doctor Michaels’s went over to the couple and embraced them both.
“I have never seen two stronger people in my entire life” Dr. Michaels’s told them “Let’s go see your son.”
Along with a nurse, the three walked to Pete’s room for one final time.

Pete heard footsteps and the creak of the door. Again, he desperately moved his eyes. He felt his father’s touch on his cheek.
“Son, I…. wan’ you ta know that, you make me so proud every day I’m on this Earth. I’ll see you again soon.”
At that moment, Pete knew. His time was running out. This was it. He wanted to scream. He wanted to fight. He wanted to live, but was frozen. With one last embrace from his mother and father, he felt his eyes swell. Dr. Michaels knelt beside the outlet. He looked at Pete and then his parents. Mr. Crickshaw gave a final nod and held his wife close. Dr. Michaels removed the plug from the outlet and stood beside Pete.
Pete felt his chest burn. His lungs were screaming. He felt weightless. He saw life, slipping away. College, a wife, a family, a life of his own, had left him as soon as the plug was pulled. Now, there was no more pain. He felt like he was floating although he couldn’t see anything. He began to see white, but it wasn’t the bright white he was told about. It seemed gray, but then returned to darkness.
Dr. Michaels put his fingers on Pete’s neck.
“Time of Death, 10:53 AM.”