[Note: This story only reflects my tremendous admiration for Miss Turner. She is one of the greatest singers ever, and one of the strongest people (mentally) on the planet.]
I was just finishing some minor repair work on my house when I heard the sound.
I live in a deserted area by choice. My family is one of the wealthiest on the planet, and I grew up in Boston living a life of luxury as a young man. My father insisted that finishing prep school should not be considered enough work for one lifetime (if I wanted to inherit), so I went to medical school and got full training as a doctor. Already I knew I didn't like the pretentiousness of the "lifestyle of the rich and famous", so I accepted a job as a doctor in a public hospital in Boston's poor area. 4 years later, the hospital went under.
"What are you going to do now, Alexander?" my family asked me when I came home that evening. "I have an idea," I said. "It requires the following to happen..."
1 month later, I had $20 million in the bank and was living in Pullman, Washington, while my house was being built. My sisters and brothers thought I was nuts, having "sold" my share of the inheritance for $20 million instead of getting $500 million as my piece when dad eventually would kick it. I didn't need the $500 million, and just wanted enough so that I wouldn't need to work for wages if I didn't want to. I was abandoning most of modern life and returning to a simpler time. The house I was building, on a dirt road in a forested glade 45 minutes from Pullman, would be 5 miles from the nearest neighbor. It would have a television (with satellite dish), a video-game console (PlayStation 2, naturally) and a large refrigerator with separate freezer. They would be the only modern things in the house. Not connected to electricity, I had 4 large generators in the basement with plenty of fuel stocked to generate power: that avoided the problem of power lines coming down in one of eastern Washington's blizzards. I didn't even have a phone.
I did, however, bring my medical supplies with me. I also had a rifle (for self-defense and the occasional deer for fresh venison) and my pickup truck (for trips into town to restock.)
The sound that broke my concentration from fixing a leak in the bathtub was a car approaching. Very few cars passed this way. I applied the last bit of sealant and stepped outside. The road was icy due to a blizzard/ice storm in the morning: it was a beautiful early afternoon, but driving conditions were still dangerous. The car, a beautiful black Ferrari convertible, was having trouble maintaining control. The driver, a dark-skinned woman, was trying to reduce her speed to a safe amount, but on the ice the brakes weren't gripping. I watched in horror as the car went into a skid, then spun and smashed into a tree. It instantly burst into flame as thick black smoke filled the car and the air.
There was no time to think. I raced towards the crashed vehicle. I unbuckled the woman's seatbelt, which was still holding her in, and slung her over my shoulder. I raced away from the vehicle and flung myself and the woman into a ditch as the car exploded, sending glass and shrapnel everywhere. The woman was unconscious, probably due to smoke inhalation.
I took her back to my house, stripped off her shredded clothes, and began to clean her up. It was then that I looked at her face and realized just who she was. I was staring at the beautiful Tina Turner, my all-time favorite singer. Even though she was in her 60's she was in fantastic shape. I had made a special trip to San Jose, CA to see her in her farewell tour several years before. Now I had saved her from certain death.
I picked out the glass fragments from her skin, washed her body with soap and water using a sponge, and applied antibiotic cream to her cuts and bruises. It was while I was doing this that she started to wake up. "Where am I?" she moaned. "Lie down, Miss Turner," I told her. "I have to finish this so your cuts don't get infected." I finished applying the cream, then gave her a sedative, dressed her wounds, and put her in the bed in the main room (living by myself, I didn't have a separate "bedroom".) I covered her with blankets and slept on the couch.
I awoke before she did and fixed a meal: eggs, venison sausage from my last kill, and orange juice. I ate my share, then went back into the main room. She was just waking up. "What happened?" she asked me. "Where am I?" "Your car crashed and burned," I told her. "I was fortunate to be able to get you out." "I don't feel well," she said. "I hurt all over. Thank you for saving me." I guided her into the kitchen and sat her down. "Eat," I told her. "You must be starving. And I'm just happy I could rescue you. You're my all-time favorite singer." I showed her my collection of CD's: all of her albums, and very few others, were present. "It's wonderful to have such a loyal fan," she told me. "You were there when I really needed it!" I smiled.