By 3:15, he was losing his mind.
Every woman was a potential Sarah. Every tree looked like it was about to drop a branch on someone. Every person walking near the maintenance area sent his heart rate spiking. He couldn't protect someone if he didn't know who she was, and he couldn't figure out who she was by staring at strangers like a serial killer.
3:30.
Seventeen minutes.
Dustin stood near the maintenance area, watching a woman jog past with a ponytail and earbuds. Was that her? She looked about the right age. But so did the woman walking a golden retriever. So did the woman reading on a blanket in the grass thirty feet away.
This was impossible. This was never going to work. He'd driven three hours and he was going to stand here and watch someone die because he couldn't figure out which someone?—
3:42.
Five minutes.
Dustin's chest was tight. He was scanning faces, paths, the maintenance trucks with their engines idling, the workers moving equipment. He was about to yell out Sarah’s name like a lunatic when?—
Greg appeared.
One second there was just a path winding past the maintenance area, a few pedestrianswalking by. The next second, Greg was standing at the edge of the path, clipboard in hand, watching a woman approach from the opposite direction.
She was young. Twenty-three, maybe. Dark hair pulled back in a messy bun. Earbuds in, phone in hand, attention fixed on the screen in front of her. Walking at a steady pace directly toward the maintenance area, completely oblivious to the truck that was starting to reverse across the path ahead of her.
Greg looked up.
Their eyes met across the park.
Greg's face went through several expressions in rapid succession: surprise, dismay, the realization that he had just made a terrible mistake.
Gotcha, Dustin thought.
He ran toward Sarah.
Greg saw Dustin coming.
Oh no.
Oh no oh no oh no.
He was going to ruin everything.
Greg knew what wassupposed to happen. Sarah was walking steadily forward, eyes on her phone, music loud enough in her earbuds that she couldn't hear the truck's warning beeps. The driver was watching his side mirror, focused on not hitting equipment. Neither of them could see the collision coming.
In approximately thirty seconds, Sarah would walk directly into the truck's path. The driver wouldn't see her until it was too late.
Except Dustin was sprinting across the park like a man possessed.
He was going to mess with the natural order of things again.
Greg couldn’t let him.
He moved to intercept.
Dustin was fast. Reckless. Driven, so fuckingdriven, by something Greg didn't fully understand—spite or grief or some desperate need to prove that death could be beaten.
Greg stepped into his path just as the truck's reverse lights flickered on, just as Sarah walked closer to the point of no return.
“Stop!” Greg yelled at Dustin.
