Chapter 6

 After around one hour

The mangled car teetered precariously on the edge of the cliff, suspended between life and the abyss below. The air was thick with the acrid scent of gasoline. Inside the battered vehicle, Christi winced, clutching her head, a crimson stain spreading across her palm.

 She slowly opened her eyes and scanned the area. She was still in the car.

 "Am I alive?" She asked herself.

 Her head was very painful.

 She looked around again and realized that the car didn't fall into the alley but it was stuck somewhere in the middle.

 She looked back and saw Stuart who fought to stay conscious, a deep gash on his wound oozing blood. The wreckage had crumpled around them, trapping them in a steel cocoon of twisted metal. The gravity of their situation hung in the air, and yet, an unspoken understanding passed between them.

"We need to get out," Christi rasped, her voice strained.

Stuart, his jaw clenched in pain, nodded in agreement. With a groan, she reached for the door handle, but it wouldn't budge. Panic flickered in Christi's eyes as she scanned their confined space for an escape.

"Stay with me," she urged her voice a low murmur.

He nodded, determination replacing fear. Together, they assessed their surroundings, finding a shattered window as their only exit. With grim determination, they worked to pry it open, the chill of the wind and the distant roar of the ocean below adding urgency to their efforts.

As they crawled through the broken glass, Stuart's weakened form leaned on Christi for support. With the vast expanse of the cliff before them, they faced the unknown together, bound by survival and the unspoken promise that in the face of adversity, they would find a way back to life, and each other.

 She was sweating and panting very badly, but that was not the time to worry about her. 

Summoning her courage, she sought a solution. Spotting an antiquated wheelbarrow tucked near a thicket, she maneuvered him into it, determined to use every ounce of her strength. Pushing the makeshift gurney, she fixed her gaze on the distant highway. Guiding him along the roadside, she scanned for any passing vehicle, hoping for a chance to flag one down.

Abruptly, a car screeched to a halt before them, carrying four youths whose raucous laughter hinted at inebriation.

"Well, hello there, a stunning lady like you shouldn't be wandering alone. What brings you to this desolate place?" one of them inquired, swaggering towards Christi.

The pungent scent of alcohol lingered around them, and Christi instinctively distanced herself, sensing trouble.

Undeterred, they persisted. "Hey, fellas, didn't we plan on hitting the pub? Why not turn this spot into our little joint? We've got booze, tunes, and now a beautiful companion," another suggested with a leering grin.

Just as the uncomfortable situation escalated, one of them noticed Stuart and recoiled in fear.

"Who's this?" he stammered, eyeing Stuart with trepidation.

"Pardon the intrusion, but my boyfriend's been shot. He's dying. Please, you have to help us," Christi implored desperately.

"Help you? Do we appear benevolent to you?" they retorted, inching closer.

Regret laced her words as she appealed, "I understand, but I'm left with no alternatives."

"Don't apologize, darling. Ladies like you shouldn't be uttering apologies. You should—" one of them leered, advancing with a sinister smirk.