Grissom, Sara, and Nick were standing in the middle of the road in shock. One minute, the big truck was headed down a connecting street, speeding towards the main road. Next he was slamming into Greg's car. But before the team even had time to glance at a single license number, or get a good description of the driver, the old red, rusty truck was down the road and out of sight.
All they could do was stare at the car, wobbling on the side of the road, still amazingly managing to hang on. At any moment it could (and more likely would) tip over off the edge and down the cliff. Sara was the first to kick back into action. As she began running toward the car, worry filled her and her stomach tied up in knots. As the others came back to reality they too started running in the direction of the car.
Inside the car, Greg Sanders was too afraid to move, or even breath. What just happened? Thought Greg. All he knew was his car somehow managed to skid nearly all the way off the road. Now he was hanging off the side of an unpleasant drop off. When he could no longer hold his breath anymore, he had to take in the breath of air. A sharp pain ran through his side. He looked down to see that a piece of metal was sticking out of his side. Then he looked to the right side of the car. He hadn't realized how smashed up his car was, the right side of the car had been relocated to were the small, leather cup holders in the middle used to be. Something from the door must have flown off and lodged in my side. He thought, preferring to try and find all his injuries rather than focus on how much longer the car would stay put. It doesn't look to deep though.
The three had stopped directly in front of the car. They could see Greg's face through the broken car windshield. He had a gash on his forehead and blood was trickling down the side of his face. But most noticeably he looked frightened. Who wouldn't though? They all looked frightened. Frightened for a friend in a dire situation. What do we do now? Thought Nick. Do we grab the car? No it might push it over. Do we just sit here and watch our friend fall down to what will probably be serious injury of death? What can we do? But Grissom was the first to speak up.
"Greg! Don't move. Well get you out! Don't move!" Grissom said terrified that any second the car would flip over, down the hill, and into more disaster. Grissom had never been one to really, openly express his emotions, particularly fear. But seeing your friend and coworker in danger would unnerve any man.
Nick had gotten out his cell phone and started dialing in 911. Grissom and Sara where still trying to figure out what they should do. It was then that they heard the creak of metal and dirt shifting, as the car shifted its weight to the back. In the car, Greg gripped the handle of the door that was still somewhat intact and pressed his feet against the floor mat with what strength he could. As if it would hold him up and keep him from falling. He braced himself for what he knew would come next…the fall.
The VW Passat managed to stay balanced a second longer. And then the car tipped over. Everything went in slow motion for Greg. The front end of the car flipped over the bottom. Greg just wanted to close his eyes and block out the blurry images of his world spinning faster and faster. But he couldn't bring himself to do it, afraid that if he closed his eyes now, he would never open them again. The front of the car came back to earth's surface roughly and connected with the hard ground. Greg felt a surprising pressure smashing against his stomach. He felt like he was going to being crushed. But the spinning wouldn't slow down and suddenly he felt light headed and weak. He was being tossed around like a rag doll inside of the wrecked automobile. Greg felt like the flying car would never come to a stop when the spinning motion finally died down and everything went black.