That’s when my body gave up and the thick, black smoke welcomed me.
The dream.
“I smell gas. We need to get out,” Momma said.
“Are you okay? Please tell me you’re okay.”
A door opening.
The scrape of metal on metal.
“Eddie?”
“Yeah?”
“The other SUV. They’re coming.”
“Get Jack out.”
“Can you move?” Daddy said.
“I…I think so.”
A seat belt click. The sound of the belt retracting. “Eddie? They’re coming.”
“We need to get you out.”
“You need to stop them, or we’re all dead.”
“Christ—where’s the gun?”
“On the floor. By my feet. I think my arm is broken. I think I’m gonna…” Momma said.
Chocolate milk, in my eyes, my hair. Sticky.
“I can’t find it. Stay with me, Katy! Focus on my voice.”
“It’s there. Was holding it. Couldn’t—”
Momma’s voice fell away. Sleepy voice.
Loud bang.
Many loud bangs.
“He’s coming around,” I heard a voice say, distant, through a tunnel, an echo off smooth walls.
“Kid? Can you hear me?”
The air was cold, wintry cold.
I drew a deep breath.
Coughed.
I tried to reach for my mouth, but my hands, my arms, wouldn’t move.
“Breathe, kid.”
