He heard a moan. He realized for the first time that the driver was lying in the backseat beside him. His seat back had broken during the collision.

“Are you all right?”

An answering moan told him that he would have to get them both out. Drake shoved at the mangled door beside the driver, not bothering to look for the door handle, which was surely non-functional. The door was jammed. He tried the door on the other side with equal lack of success. He reached across the driver into the front seat and found the handle on the driver’s side door. Although that door didn’t look as bad, it didn’t respond to his pressure.

The easiest way out was through the rear window; the glass was already broken. Drake knocked out several loose pieces of glass that were still clinging to the window frame. He grabbed the shoulders of the driver who was lying on his back, his body partially on the errant seat back, and tried to lift him. He was greeted with a full-fledged groan.

No time to be gentle. Drake hefted the driver up, ignoring louder groans, and shoved him head first through the window. He stopped for a second to collect his energy and realized he was panting. With a supreme effort, he pushed the body after the head. The driver rolled off what was left of the trunk and hit the ground with a thump.

That had used most of Drake’s strength, but he had to get himself out. He forced his muscles to move. He got his head and shoulders through the opening and became stuck. He couldn’t go any farther. It would be easier to stay here and let things take their course. Which would involve him burning up in a fiery inferno, like the suttee he had seen in India.

You candy ass, he told himself. You’ve gotten yourself out of worse jams than this. Just not recently. You’re out of practice. Do this one thing and you can rest. He wiggled his body slowly through the opening, but when most of it was through, he didn’t have strength enough to stop himself from rolling off the remains of the trunk, just as the driver had done.