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I jerk upright.

Bad idea. The entire world spins.

I grab the seat and breathe through my mouth.

Don't throw up.

Don't pass out.

I force my eyes forward.

Mercer is slumped over the steering wheel. Blood runs down the side of his face. He's not moving.

My heart pounds.

Is he dead?

I stare at him for a couple of seconds.

I need to get out. Now.

I pull my hands in front of me. The rope is still looped around one wrist. I yank at it. My fingers shake so badly I can barely make them work. “Come on.”

The knot catches.

“Come the fuck on.”

I pull and pull.

It finally loosens.

I rip my hand free.

Yes.

I grab the door handle.

Nothing.

I push again.

Still nothing.

“Fuck.”

The crash jammed it.

I scramble across the seat toward the other door. Pain shoots through my ribs. I ignore it.

I grab the handle and push.

It opens.

Cold air hits my face.

I almost cry.

Instead, I crawl out.