I pulled Lucia over my head, discarding her unexpected weight. Turning my head, I looked back for my bandmates. No one was standing. Or lying down. I didn’t see anyone at all. My head spun, trying to comprehend. Jess. Grace. My eyes shot open. Full clarity.Jess! Grace!I flipped to my stomach, staying low, crawling. My only thought was getting to them, protecting them. Arriving at the edge of the stage, I swung my legs over and landed in a heap onto a pile of overturned chairs, pain searing as I rolled to the ground from there. It occurred to me then that these had been Jess’s and Grace’s chairs. And Elliott’s.
Where had they gone? The gunshots continued, but I no longer cared. I had to get to them. Willing my limbs to work, I hauled my heavy body off the floor and went in search of the woman I loved and the sister I’d promised my whole life to keep safe. If I failed now, what would it all have been for? I grew stronger. Steadier in my gait. My breath started coming back to me in waves.
Only a minute ago, this area had been packed with bodies, and now it was largely empty. Where had everyone gone? It was then I saw movement on the ground. The area wasn’t empty at all. Upon closer investigation, there were hundreds, maybe thousands of people crouched under chairs, behind trash bins. And some—the unluckier ones—cowered in the open with nowhere else to go. Jess and Grace were somewhere in here. Strength in numbers, I hoped.
And then as quickly as it had started, the shooting stopped. All that could be heard throughout the arena now were screams. Had the gunman left? Was he reloading? Maybe he’d killed himself. Or maybe he was lurking somewhere, methodically searching for fresh victims or trails of blood to finish off the unlucky. Was I one of those?
Something familiar caught my eye—long, shiny black hair and the intimate curve of a back I knew all too well. Jess. She was turned away from me, motionless. On the floor. Under a chair. I sucked in a breath, wanting to scream her name. But I remained silent because I knew if I called her name and she responded, I’d put a target on her back. I dropped to one knee, fearing the worst.
“Jess?” I whispered, my hand shaky as I gently touched her.
She jerked, her head twisting, and upon seeing me, her body swiftly followed. She clutched me, touching my face, my ears, my neck.
“I thought you were dead.” She gasped for breath through the tears. “I saw you go down.”
Now it was my turn to grab her face, checking for injuries. “I’m here. You’re not hurt, are you?”
“No.”
“Where’s my sister?” I asked.
“She’s here,” Elliott said, in a low, unsteady voice. “She’s safe.”
I looked under the chairs to see him shielding Grace’s body with his own. I would never make fun of this napping hero again.
“Grace, no.” Elliott tried holding onto her, keeping her safe, but Grace crawled out from under him, silent, and crept toward me. I could see the trauma in her eyes. I hadn’t been able to protect her from this. Such a fail. I opened my arms to her and she sank into me, sobbing.
“You’re okay,” I said, smoothing her hair as I muffled her cries. “Shhh, Grace. We don’t know where he is.”
Elliott followed her out from under the chairs, again shielding her as he scanned the area for impending danger. And so he should. We were sitting ducks. Jesus, what were we doing huddling here in the wide open?
I passed Grace off to Elliott, trusting in him—not an easy thing for me to do.
“Quinn,” he said, his eyes widening as he pointed to my shoulder.
It was then I saw that Grace was covered in my blood. Grabbing the back of a chair, I hoisted myself back up to my feet. Something was wrong. I knew it now. My black shirt disguised the blood somewhat, but it was there and spreading.
Jess bolted to her feet, her fingers grazing over the hole in the fabric of the shirt. “Oh, god. Youwerehit.”
I flinched at her slightest touch, dots of black invading my vision. She jerked her hand back, her fingers tinted red.
Grace’s head jerked up, newfound purpose erasing her fear. “We have to get you to a hospital.”
“It’s in my shoulder. I’ll be fine.”
Butwasit in my shoulder? It seemed lower than that, but what did I know? I’d never been shot before, nor had I ever paid much attention to human anatomy.
“It’s not fine.” She grabbed my right hand and pulled me. “Let’s go.”
“No,” I said, turning her the other direction. The front, where the exits were and where Grace wanted to go, seemed the logical choice, but it was too far to travel. “Not that way. I know where a closer exit is.”
As soon as I said that, chairs began to move as others crawled out from their hiding places and followed us. Handfuls of concertgoers, hearing my claim of an exit, my promise of safety, put their faith in me. I looked back to find scores of people trailing behind. I moved my crowd toward the back of the stadium, keeping them low and hugging the stage I’d been performing on only minutes earlier. Somewhere, toward the back of the long wooden platform, was a hatch door with no handle from the outside. It was used by the arena for emergency situations—a way to get security guards out into the crowd quickly. I was banking on the fact that they’d done just this and that the hatch door would now be open.
“Quinn.” I looked up when I heard my name quietly called, and saw him, his head poking out of the hatch door. Evan. He’d found the exit for me. “Over here.”
Evan swung the door open wider as we neared.
“Where’s Tucker?” I asked as my group began streaming through the exit.
