At nine years old, James’s new sinking feeling came from the intense and sudden worry that he had made a wrong choice somewhere along the line. That, even though he knew he hadn’t actually had many options, he had still somehow misstepped.
And now everything had changed and there was no going back for a redo.
That feeling had grown and stretched as James had grown and stretched as he got older. It was still there sometimes, a lurking worry, but not as it first had been. Then, as he had reached the age of thirty, he realized it had become more of an ache. An echo. He could get toitbut it didn’t often get tohim.
However, for the first time since he was a child, James felt that sinking feeling come back to life, strong and loud.
That helpless fear that he’d made the wrong choice and now the world was forever changed for it.
The pain registered first but he couldn’t place exactly where it was on his body. It all hurt. He hurt everywhere.
He wasn’t lying down but he wasn’t on his feet either. He also wasn’t sitting. He was, instead, lopsided.
James blinked a few times. An almost overwhelming sense of nausea turned in his stomach. That was when he realized what he had been hearing since opening his eyes.
Ringing. In his ears.
And that was it. No other sounds.
Just pain and ringing.
What had—
All at once the car, the bomb and then the gunshots pounded through his memory. Then the confusing world around him started to make sense.
He had made it to the bottom of the second service pit. Despite the distance, despite the bomb’s blast, despite the men banging their way through the garage to them. Unbelievably, James had made it.
His gaze was pitched up and there he saw one of the metal tracks they used to service the vehicles overhead. It was still above but warped and bent, not completely intact anymore. That might have had something to do with the giant-something partially lying across it.
It was part of a roof—the Keller Auto roof—and past that he could see a strip of sky.
It was a startling contrast. One that finally pushed James even closer to reality.
The rest of the details finally sharpened.
Therehadactually been an explosive beneath the car seat, and ithadgone off. Debris was all around the pit and the smell of smoke and burning things was so heavy it clogged his nostrils. There was no telling how badly the rest of the garage was damaged but the pit itself had actually held. At least, it had kept its structure.The debris still falling was an issue. James caught a burning something next to him on the ground. It was paper, small, but actively on fire. On reflex he palmed it out.
The movement hurt, but not because of the flame.
There was a weight on his side, and it had taken until now to notice it.
That sinking feeling nagged again.
The most important detail inside the service pit had come last.
Rose Little did in fact seem little. She was a deadweight lying against him, her back to his side, head pressed against his rib cage. Her hair was splayed out across her face and only the downward turn of her lips could be seen through it. James couldn’t remember how they went from the car to six feet down, but Rose had obviously taken a bigger blow than he had.
“Deputy Little?” Her name came out warbled and wrong against the ringing in his ears. James used the hand that had palmed out the small paper fire a second ago, unable to worry about the soot it had left behind, and gently held her face against him.
Rose wasn’t moving.
James shifted his weight slowly, holding her, until they were both sitting up.
He called her name again, but the woman remained slack against him.
He couldn’t tell if she was breathing—there was too much going on around him—so he moved his fingers to her neck.
Then he held his breath.
