Esperanza Ortega; Wanted for Murder, Theft.

[Pryce]

Winterberry Grove Residential Complex
Resident Vehicle Parking
Rexford, Los Angeles
0649 Local time


There was a moment when she didn't know where she was, or even who.


There was a strong smell in what was left of the car. It wasn't the smell of smoke that Ortega picked out, though that was also present, nor the smell of blood, which was also strong in the confined cabin. It was a sweet, pungent odour, one that she had smelled many times before. There was a light across her eyelids, and they fluttered open. She was staring through a massive hole that had been torn open starting from the side and continuing on across the roof of the car. The ceiling of the garage was overhead.



She became aware of a pressure and gently looked downward, seeing the strange hand resting on her leg, its grip relaxing as she watched. She glanced to her right and flinched, seeing what was left of that seats occupant; Ortega quickly looked away. It was too late; she knew she'd have dreams about it later.



She tried to move and yelped, discovering that her left arm was most likely broken. She coughed, partly from the smoke, and partly to hear it, but heard nothing but a hollow ringing. Carefully, Ortega undid the restraints with her right arm, pausing to push the dead womans arm towards its owner. The roof and right front side of the car was simply an opening of jagged metal, there wasn't much to grab onto. She rose in the seat, pulling her feet under her, gingerly due to her arm, and slowly worked a path out of the jagged hole, the cars doors now quite useless.



As she peaked the opening, she felt a wave of dizzyness and slipped, and a bent blade of shredded alloy tore easily through her thin dress and sunk deep into her upper left thigh. She screamed and flailed for a handhold, slicing her hand open on a section of roof, but stopping her from being impaled through the ribcage. She hung precariously for a moment, and missed her flightsuit, which would have withstood the metal. With great difficulty, she pulled her leg off the sharp point, which began to bleed much more than she liked, and half lowered herself, half fell out of the car and onto the paved surface of the garage.



She lay on her back for what seemed a long time. Bleeding. Have to take care of that. It was here that she realized that a part of her didn't want to. She was getting tired, very tired of this life. She could see how easy it would be, just to choose to fall asleep, right here, to choose to let go.


The woman sitting in that car hadn't had that choice.


With a cry, equal parts anger and dispair, Ortega raised herself on her good arm, and dragged herself to the closest wall, turning to lie against it. She fumbled with the lower part of her dress, trying to tear off a portion, but finding the operation impossible with the use of only one hand. Instead, she rested her back against the wall and rolled onto her right hip, drawing her injured left leg closer, she used her right hand to bunch up the lower portion of the dress, and pressed it as firmly as she could against the painful wound. The pressure wasn't very hard. Waited too long. She grimaced as she saw the noticable blood trail leading from the wreck. She was starting to feel abit faint. She deliberately moved her left arm abit, and the resulting jab of pain brought her back a little. That trick wouldn't work much longer.



Now in a position to view the wreck in better detail, Ortega realized that she'd been carried quite aways back into the interior of the garage. The exit to the outside pad was perhaps twelve meters to her left, the morning sun shining through into the smoky haze of the garage interior. The lorry had hit the stopped car very hard; the car had been launched into the interior like a billiard ball, until it stuck an interior wall, crushing the left side of the car along with Ortegas' left arm in the process. What was left of the lorry had just missed the same wall, continuing along a lane leading deeper into the structure, hitting enough parked vehicles to finally bring it to a stop. There was a scattered trail of twisted metal and parts that followed all the way to the rear of the lorry. There remained a great deal of smoke, though Ortega didn't see any fire.



A man wandered in from the haze and walked close to the wreck.Noting the blood trail, she watched as his eyes followed the ground until they met hers. They held each others gaze for a moment when he realized she was still alive. The man turned, and walked briskly back into the haze.



She wondered if the medics would be able to get to her in time.


Her heartbeat grew slower, fainter, then stopped.

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