Then it was my turn to get taken out of that twisted Ford and see daylight again. As they moved me through the hole that they had to cut in the side of the van, well actually the roof I guess, my body was streaming with pain from my leg injury. But I

Horn 10

didn’t make a sound. I couldn’t. Not after seeing everything that I had just seen.

When they pulled me out and laid me down in the grassy median beside what was left of our van, I didn’t feel any better. I had one thought as I laid there on that road, and surprisingly it was not anything to do with Jason, for I think I already knew in my gut what the end result there was going to be. So I began searching my surroundings frantically, hoping all the time not to see what I thought I was about to see.

I could see that little white trailer, all the way on the other side of the highway.

It apparently had taken out two vehicles from the oncoming lanes of traffic. Two vehicles that might have actually hit our van as we crossed the median and would have probably decimated us much further. Out of those two cars, we killed three people with our little, white trailer.

I could make out Pete’s drum kit as it was scattered about the highway like debris

after a hurricane. I noticed Jason’s black fender Stratocaster laying in the median, with it’s neck, much like it’s owner, broken. And then, just to the right of that, I found what I was looking for. There, to the right of Jason’s guitar, was a bright white sheet draped over what was obviously a body. I knew immediately who it was that was under that sheet. I’ll never forget that last stare in his eyes or the accident that followed that day for the rest of my life.