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Miguel Ordornio was not a smart man. This much was true. 

Flying through Washington in his commandeered SUV - to Hell with it, it's not like the owner was going to need it anytime soon - blaring out Led Zepplin and knocking down the odd shambler here and there for kicks, Miguel was living a life of excitement and ecstasy. The world had gone to crap, sure, but it had also created so much freedom. If he could just carry on avoiding being eaten, and carry on avoiding being shot, then what was the problem?

There wasn't one!

Until he lent forwards to snort the line of coke he'd found in the glove box. The owner of the SUV was a party creature of some kind, but judging by the baby seats in the back, maybe they were a little on the low key side of things. You know? Just used the stuff to perk up their Sunday morning church visits. In any case, of all the times he should have watched the road, that was one of them.

He didn't see what he hit, but it damn nearly stopped him instantly. The air bag deployed, the seatbelt tore into his chest, and suddenly the world was spinning and his stomach sunk. Then the SUV hit something else, and the spinning became a bit of a waltzer - as if he was in some kind of washing machine. 

It ended with a splash and a searing pain in his face. 

###6 Hours later###

He awoke to agony; his body racked with pain, from his feet to his head. He tried to make sense of everything, but the darkness wasn't helping. What had just happened? He put his hand down by his side, and realised for the first time that he was submerged in water from the waist down. 

The realisation of the water's coldness jogged his memory. He'd hit something and crashed - must have been thrown over the bridge's barrier. As he struggled to release his seat belt, he heard whispered voices. Someone was nearby. 

But did he care? He'd survived, though he'd have the scars to prove it for the rest of his day(s). Maybe it would be better if he just picked up his gun and carried on his entertainment. Not like tomorrow was worth living for, after all.

... but then something made him feel bad. His conscience? Had he just hurt some people? Maybe it'd be better if he checked it out first, just to make sure they were okay. And hey, if they weren't, it wasn't like there was any police around to come and arrest him was it? 

Lifting himself out of the car with a grunt, Miguel started to muse at his options.