"What the..." Phillip shouted as he thrust open the door and ran to the side of his car, catching sight of the lump laying on the street. "No," he said, throwing himself low and crouching over the body--a woman--crumpled in a heap between the curb and the car. He couldn't see well on the poorly lit street. "Are you okay?" he repeated frantically, fear running fresh through his mind. He didn't know if she was alive or dead. She wasn't moving. She looked limp. "Are you alive? PLEASE be alive."

"My foot," she groaned, then her voice caught hysteria. "The car! My foot! Help! Get it off me!" She kept screaming and thrashing.

A sickening bolt of realization hit Phillip. He ran back to the car and dove into the driver's seat, flinging the gear into reverse. Vomit stuck in his throat. The lump the tire rolled over was her foot or her leg or both. He moved the car back enough to clear several feet around her. He grabbed his phone and dialed for help.

He returned to her, yelling to the dispatch on the other end of his phone or anyone within ear shot, except nobody was around on this empty side street. "An ambulance is on the way," he said, hovering over her.

"Don't touch me!" she shouted, rolling onto her back. She shook. Her whole body convulsed and her teeth chattered. Wide dark eyes stared back. "What have you done? she said between barely-there breaths as she tried to sit up. "You--"

"Don't move!" he commanded as her head rolled back against the asphalt. "Hold on. Please. Hold on." Phillip got on the ground with her and found her hand to hold. He wouldn't let go. He kept telling her she'd be okay even if he didn't know it himself. Soft tufts of snow came down around then and a sire cried out in the distance...Check back tomorrow to see what happens next.