As the sun came up, as consciousness and pain returned, he tried to rise. He saw that he was trapped. He was lying on his back at the bottom of a rocky California canyon, about 40 miles from Oakland. His wrecked automobile was on its side beside him and his right hand and wrist were pinned underneath the car's front fender.

Things began to come back. He was Ernest Steele—Ernest K. Steele. He had been fishing, then driving down Franklin Canyon Road on his way home. He guessed he had gone to sleep; he had a vague memory...

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