Broken car trunk

Hiding in the trunk of a car had seemed like a
good idea. He'd chosen this car because the trunk was
empty. All the other trunks were filled with suitcases, luggage,
and family gifts. Each was a sad legacy of a family
story brought to a halt too soon. Some would stutter
back into a semblance of their former lives; others
wouldn't.

All of the occupied trunks were a risk. Even if
Clark had been able to fit into them, the last thing he
wanted was to face a trunk opened by a traumatized
soldier's family with kids in tow.

This car was empty and sterile. It smelled like a
rental. There was a risk that someone would come to
open their trunk before the pursuit was called off, but
it was at least less likely to be someone with kids.
The thought that the car might be driven by a
maniac had never occurred to him.
The sound of a woman cursing from the front seat
was punctuated by sudden changes in direction as she
spun her wheels quickly on the concrete of the parking
lot.

All Clark could do was hold himself still in the
trunk with one hand on the broken latch.

Pgs. 17-18