Peeling himself off the asphalt, Noah stood, grimacing at the pain in his foot and elbow. He knew he wasn't feeling the full effects of the injuries. His body was flooded with adrenaline, so he figured he might as well use it to his advantage. Hobbling as fast as he could, he was one of the first people near the collision, all the way in the middle of the intersection. Dozens around, he heard, were calling for help, calling 911, calling an ambulance, calling for God. The car that had plowed through the red light had been hit by the oncoming car on the passenger side. Noah, closer to the car that had run over his foot, went up to the driver side door. There was a girl inside.
She was awake, if bloody and dazed. Good. Noah didn't want to deal with any dead bodies. He opened the door easily enough. Old cars like this didn't lock automatically. He reached inside to unbuckle the girl. "Next time, I advise hitting the brakes," he said flatly through his teeth. His elbow throbbed as he stretched his arm out to pick the girl up. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he remembered that you weren't supposed to move people when they'd been in an accident, in case their spine was broken or something. But it was too late. The girl was being held to his chest, cradled like a child. She was small enough that it wasn't hard to get her through the door. But her leg - it was dangling at a grotesque angle. Noah closed his eyes, feeling sick, and carried her toward the curb, sucking in air through his teeth as pain shot up his leg. When he opened his eyes, he appeared thoroughly unamused.
He'd liked his day better when it was still boring.