I scrambled quickly over to it and reached through the shattered glass that had been the passenger side window to find a pulse in Jody’s neck. She was hanging upside down by the seatbelts and there was blood on one of her arms. I detected a pulse and said a prayer of thanks.
I realized I was pretty much unscathed, and so ran around the car to the doc’s side. One look told me all I needed to know, but I checked for a pulse anyway. I was quickly back to the passenger side, where the only living occupant of the front seat still resided.
I cleared the glass out of the way as best I could, then reached in to undo the seatbelt. As gently as I could, I lowered Jody to the roof of the car. She screamed in pain as I did so, but didn’t seem to wake up.
I would have liked to just leave her there for more qualified personnel to attend to her, but I could smell the gasoline from the engine-or the tank, or somewhere in between-and knew I needed to get her out of there. Praying that she didn’t have a spinal injury, I drug her out as gently as I could, but she still screamed in pain again.
Once clear of the car, I picked her up amidst less screaming but more crying and carried her to a clear spot on the other side of some boulders. I was just laying her down when the concussion of the gas tank exploding knocked me over on top of her. She didn’t make a sound, which scared me to death. I checked for a pulse again and found it, but she was clearly out.
I fumbled in my pockets but couldn’t find my phone, so I went through hers. Fortunately, she hadn’t stuck hers in her purse. She hated ring tones and always set her phone on vibrate, a quirk for which I was praising God.