Panicked, Desperate, Thirsty as Hell— Then—no time for a look, but his senses told him— _Vehicle, moving closer, no lights, no headlights . . ._ "Come on!" he hissed to himself, and leapt into the darkness. • • • The thing that felt like an out-of-control shopping cart turned at a blind bend in the tunnel, headed straight for the little scooter. The headlight threw out enough light to see that it was a large, old, hulking mass, the body of it as wide as the two-lane road. The headlight showed a flat and dull shape as it bore down on the scooter. Not a headlight at all. A grille and windshield from a tractor-trailer, its bulb smashed, a dark outline of the driver's face visible through the glass. The scooter was going less than fifteen miles an hour and soared over the tractor-trailer's nose, bounced off the grille, and slid forward. It hit the cab, the rider still in a sitting position, then bounced off the grille again, hitting the headlight. The back tire took the side of the road and sent small rocks flying. The passenger on the scooter was thrown forward. She felt the world change from a bumpy ride to a free fall, but she never screamed. The tractor-trailer's grille shielded the impact from behind. When she landed, she managed to get to one knee and push herself upright. Her left arm was out of its socket, blood running from under her fingernails and down her forearm. Her fingers were crushed, blood still oozing from her left forearm and armpit. A piece of road, probably a large flat stone, had lodged in her left upper arm, smashing bones, and one of her ribs had been crushed. She looked at her left hand; the fingers had been sewn together, and there were stitches over the wrist. Her right leg was broken as well. She reached down with her left hand and gingerly touched the broken rib, then pressed a knuckle to the front of her shattered left arm. The pain was incredible. The windshield and grille of the tractor-trailer shielded her from the worst of the impact. The old hulk was stopped in the middle of the road. She was not sure if the impact with it had crushed the scooter or not. It was dark. She looked around for the other bike, hoping someone would be coming to get her. The headlight, no more than a few feet away, was tilted at a forty-five-degree angle; it fell onto the shoulder of the road and went out. It looked like the bike's brake light had been hit. A couple of feet away was the front of the scooter. She walked over to it, feeling her way, but fell to her knees, unable to see the brake. In the fading light, she saw a bright red flash as the bike skidded across the road. The bike was a few feet away, on its side, with the driver's arm bent at an unnatural angle where it met the handlebars. The headlight had been broken out by the impact and the glass was scattered around. The rider was not moving. Her vision was not completely impaired but she couldn't see very well. She looked up and saw the headlight on top of the tractor-trailer blink on. "Hey!" she cried. "Help!" The headlight turned on and the blinking was more frantic. The tractor-trailer started moving again, slowly at first and then picking up speed. The sound of the engine was muffled and made the rider's ears ring. It sounded like a monster underwater, the motor humming like a swarm of angry bees. She watched the headlight come closer. She held up both her hands and tried to stand up. She fell backward on her hands. She was trying to get up again when the tractor-trailer hit her from behind, knocking her to the ground, the light crashing on top of her, one of its wheels in the back of her throat. She did not hear it approach. The sound of the grinding of gears and the low groan of tires on asphalt was a surprise. Then, she saw it as a blurry black-and-white figure speeding toward her, a flash of light in the windshield, a second figure in the headlight, hunched forward like a monster coming at her. The woman held up her hands in a protective gesture, but it was too late. The figure slammed into her, knocking her to the ground. The headlight crashed on her helmet. It felt like a giant fist punched through her, then rolled off, leaving her gasping in the cold air. She was lying in the road, the headlight lying on top of her. She heard the motor die out. The driver's-side door of the tractor-trailer was open. The headlight had been crushed by the front bumper, and the light on top of the bumper was gone, the headlight smashed to bits on top of her body. The tractor-trailer's front grille shielded her from the worst of the impact. She heard the sound of metal banging on metal and the grille wobbling back and forth. The impact of the tractor-trailer had not been enough to drive it over her, but she heard it rock back and forth, trying to get enough weight on one side to tip over. She sat up and looked at the tractor-trailer. Its rearview mirror had fallen off, and its grille was bent. The impact had smashed out the headlight and cracked the windshield. Both the passenger window and the side windows were blown out and the glass was blown into the cab. The tractor-trailer was on the right side of the road, but she could see it on the side of the road, a few feet away, with its bumper in the middle of the road, scraping along the asphalt. She was sitting in the middle of the road, the bike nearby. She crawled toward it, picking up rocks and branches as she went. She managed to get to her feet by the bike and leaned against it for support. She crawled over to the driver's-side door and put her left hand on the door. There was no handle on the door, and she could feel it vibrating in the wind. The driver's-side window was gone and glass fragments were embedded in the armrest. She was not sure how the window had been hit. It had not fallen onto her. She tried to open the door and could not. The driver's-side door was still wedged in place, but there were no handles or latches that she could use. She pounded on the door with her left fist and screamed. She tried to push the door open with her left arm, which was still hanging uselessly from its socket. It was a useless gesture, anyway. Her body hurt too much to put much force into it. Her fingers felt weak and floppy. She dropped to her knees and tried again, this time putting all of her weight into her fist and screaming again. The door did not budge. She crawled behind the cab, away from the oncoming tractor-trailer, and tried to push the driver's-side door in. She did not know how to get out and she could feel blood dripping down her neck. She crawled until she could stand up. She staggered back to the scooter and picked it up. She crawled to the passenger side of the tractor-trailer and looked through the smashed passenger-side window. The lights were on inside. There was a man sitting on a desk facing the driver's seat. His arm was around the steering wheel, and his hand was on the side of her body. She did not know if the man was trying to restrain her or protect her from her own body. Her chest was on fire, each breath tearing her body in two. Her head felt ready to explode. She staggered to the side of the road and leaned against the tractor-trailer. She put her head in her hands and tried to calm her breathing. Her ribs were broken; she couldn't hear. It would be hours before help would get here. She had done this before, and she knew what would happen. The man in the tractor-trailer had been in an accident before, too. _No one is going to help me now. Not my family. Not the doctors who gave me X-rays and stitches. Nobody._ She heard another sound and looked up. The sound was much closer. She heard it above her head and looked up to the sound, but saw nothing. The headlight came out of the woods and bounced on the asphalt, then fell down on the passenger's-side front fender. A man with two dogs on leashes ran toward her. He had a black-and-white flashlight. "Are you okay?" The man picked up the headlight off the ground and gave it to her. She threw up her arm to shield her eyes from the light. "Are you okay?" He put an arm around her waist and picked her up. She gasped as she sank to the ground. The