I lost my grip on Chay’s hand. Panic swallowed me as he disappeared into the crowd. I had no choice but to keep moving in the general direction of the bridge. My eyes darted from person to person, searching for Chay, but I didn’t slow down to look for him. The images screamed through my head, pushing me. The urge to find the woman was too great. I had to get to the bridge before she got to the tour bus.
I continued running, pushing my way through the people coming at me. Trying to move against the flow of people did nothing but push me backward, wasting precious seconds. Finally, after what seemed like hours of pushing my way along the crowded sidewalk, I saw the bridge. The lights shone brightly against the darkening Waterway. I stood on my tiptoes to get a better look, straining to find the woman. I didn’t know where to look. The vision replayed the same images in my head over and over, never adding anything new.
I couldn’t hold my position through the mass of people walking toward me. I darted into the street, where there was less foot traffic and a better view. Trying to ignore the pain that still ravaged my body from the vision, I ran faster toward the bridge, dodging cars and buses, the image of the woman fused into my brain. I scanned the crowd for a green shirt. I’d never noticed how common the color was, but it seemed like every woman at the Waterway that night was wearing some variation of green.
When I reached the foot of the bridge, I saw her. She walked on the side of the bridge toward me. I scanned the area. There was no tour bus. I heaved a sigh of relief and tried to push my way to her.
I heard it before I saw it. The engine too loud. It barreled down the bridge too fast. Her back was to it as she walked alongside the row of parked tour buses, looking up at their route signs. I watched in horror as the bus slammed into her. Her body flew into the air like a rag doll. She bounced off the concrete guardrail and fell over the side of the bridge. I heard her hit the water with a sickening slap.
I stopped running. The vision was gone. I stood in the middle of the road and stared at where the bus hit the woman. I’d been just seconds away from reaching her. If I could’ve gotten to her… if I’d seen the bus… if… if… if. I put my hands on top of my head and squeezed to block out the person screaming next to me. My lungs burned, felt deflated like balloons, and the back of my throat was scorched in an itchy sort of way. I sucked in a large breath and let it out. My neck muscles strained, and my head throbbed—it was then I realized I was the person screaming.
I fell to my knees. My screams turned to tears. It was done. The vision hadn’t done its job. I failed. I was positive the woman was dead. I could feel it. My fingers and hands turned cold, and my toes felt like leaden ice cubes. An icy wind whipped through my hair, stinging my face where it smacked against it. My blood was like slush slogging through my veins.
People ran to the side of the bridge and looked over. They knocked into me as they passed. I sat motionless in the middle of the road. I wondered why they were running. There was nothing to do—it was over.
Someone grabbed my arm and jerked me off the ground. I screamed. Then I saw his face.
Chay crushed me against him, turning me away from the bridge. “C’mon,” he murmured close to my ear. His breath was warm on my frozen skin.
I let him guide me to a small café table outside one of the shops we’d walked through earlier in the day. I could hear sirens in the distance. They grew louder and louder until their piercing wails were so loud that I had to put my hands over my ears. The red and blue flashing lights cast everything in odd shadows. They were nothing like the beautiful lights of the Waterway just minutes earlier.
I buried my face in the curve of Chay’s neck and cried. Every few seconds, I’d lift my head and look toward the bridge. Chay would cup my face and guide it back to him. Finally, he unzipped his jacket and pulled my head to his chest. He wrapped his jacket around me like a blanket and shielded me from the ugliness on the other side.
And for just a moment, it was enough.
***
It was almost one o’clock in the morning when we gave our statement to the police. Chay had called our parents and explained why we missed curfew. I sat and stared straight ahead. I couldn’t get the image of the woman’s body bouncing off the front of the tour bus and over the side of the bridge out of my head. Sometime during our wait, the coroner drove slowly through the remaining crowd of people.
“I knew she was dead,” I whispered. They were the first words I’d spoken since Chay and I gave our statement to the police.
“This isn’t your fault.” He threaded his fingers through mine before kissing the inside of my wrist.
I shrugged a shoulder and looked away.
Yes, it is.
“You’re freezing.” He frowned and placed his jacket over my shoulders. I stuck my arms through the sleeves. His jacket was soft and warm and when I breathed in, I could smell his cologne lingering in the fabric.
“Can you take me to my grandma’s? I’ll call my parents from there.”