"In the conservative region far from the chaotic edge, individual elements coalesce slowly, showing no clear… — Michael Crichton

She said, “Ian. After all I've done for you.”

Elizabeth Gelman sighed. “You're a lying son of a bitch.”

“Sorry about that,” Sarah said, and she pulled him up by his hair. The pain was intense but he didn’t care, he hardly noticed, because now he was alongside the accordion connector, watching the coils pop free like a bursting corset, and the trailer dropped lower but she still pulled him, she was immensely strong, and then his fingers touched wet grass, and he was over the side. Safe. […] with a final groan, the trailer broke all connection, and fell free down the cliff face, growing smaller and smaller, until it smashed on the rocks far below. In the glare of lightning, it looked like a crumpled paper bag.