But backward is into the street.
I see what’s about to happen an instant before it does, my hand flying to cover my mouth. Horns blare, and rubber screeches on concrete. The car hits him with a thud, and his body goes over. He spins in the air. Thud, against the roof. Thud, against the trunk.
Then he rolls, limp and lifeless, onto the black road.
The screams rise in a swell around us.
Angel’s lying on the road, and he’s not moving.
Zach falls to his knees.
My phone starts to buzz again.
Angel’s lying on the road, and he’s not moving.
I fight against the wave of the crowd as it reaches me again, because I have to get to Zach, I have to.
The buzzing won’t stop.
Angel’s lying on the road, and he’s not moving.
I reach Zach, and get my arms around him. This close, I can differentiate his screams from the others. He’s not screaming Angel. He’s screaming “Reece.” Over and over again, to the ground, hunched over with his eyes squeezed shut so he doesn’t have to see.
Then there’s nothing to see anymore anyway. Just a wall of bodies, as the crowd closes over us to share in our grief. Everything is distant, and floating.
I think they’re suffocating me.
I think they’re drowning us.
The weight of the crowd on us is crushing. I can’t get air in. I can’t focus, I don’t know the answer, I can’t think, because—
Angel’s lying on the road, and he’s not moving.
I don’t want to stand. I just want to kneel here, holding onto Zach, keeping him steady as he screams out the name of someone he knew as a young boy. I don’t want air, and I don’t need it. I don’t mind being crushed.
Then strong hands grab me, and pull me free from the fray. It’s one of the Chase guards. Another guard strides over and stands between me and the crowd, so I can suck in air. Before I can fear for him, I spot another guard emerging from the crowd with Zach. He’s safe. Okay.
But—
Angel’s lying on the road, and he’s not moving.
I can’t cry. I want to, but I can’t. I feel nothing. I see nothing, except Angel’s motionless body, even though he’s blocked from sight by the swarm. I can’t see Erin or Jon. I call for Zach, but the guard shakes his head. “Not now,” he says.
“Is Angel okay? We need to go back.”
“Not now.”
“Let me go to Zach, then. I need to be with Zach.”
“Not now.”
The screams don’t fade as the guard steers me firmly to the refuge of the hotel.
It doesn’t matter how far away we get.
The screams don’t fade.
TWENTY
ZACH
They won’t let us see Angel.
Erin has been messaging us updates, that he’s alive and okay, so we at least know that much. Well, he’s as okay as you can be with a compound fracture, some bruised ribs, and a bunch of scrapes and a possible head injury. They’re not sure how bad it is yet.
But he’s awake, and is mostly okay. He got lucky, that’s for sure.
If they’re telling the truth, that is. We can’t know for sure, because all we have is their word; we aren’t allowed to be with him. Apparently that will cause a scene and will draw even more attention to what’s happened, which Chorus wants to avoid at all costs. Footage of Angel’s accident has spread around the Internet as fast as anything involving us does, but Chorus is really trying to make sure this only lasts one news cycle. That means no visits until it’s all blown over.
Normally, I somewhat get why they keep us out of the loop of big stuff, and I trust that they know how to handle whatever situation is going on best. This is so far from being normal, though.
He’s our friend, and he’s hurt. We should be with him. Being here feels wrong.
Ruben and Jon are in Ruben’s room, waiting for more news, but I left about an hour ago to try to get some sleep. “Try” being the operative word. I can’t get comfortable, as everything feels cloying and too hot.
I get out of bed, and start pacing. The clock on the bedside table says it’s just past four a.m., which makes me think sleep at this point is going to be impossible.
The accident replays in my mind. It’s vivid, down to every minute detail. I can still hear the dull thud of him hitting the hood and tumbling over, before finally hitting the road facedown.
And then the silence.
Until the screaming started, anyway.
He was so still, his body bent awkwardly with his arm jutting out. In that moment, everyone who was there thought he was dead. I know it. I could smell blood. His blood. I saw it, stark red, on his face before the guards dragged the three of us away. Jon tried to fight them, to stay with Angel, but he wasn’t strong enough. I just went with them. I didn’t have the energy to fight back. Maybe I should’ve. Maybe then I wouldn’t feel like this, and Angel wouldn’t be alone.