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A phone.

Anything.

Roman.

God, I want Roman.

The thought hits so hard my throat closes.

No. I can fall apart later.

Right now, I need to keep moving.

I make it farther than I expect.

Far enough that when I glance back, the wreck is partially hidden by the curve in the road.

Good.

I face forward again.

Keep walking.

Miller and Old Quarry.

My shoes scrape against the pavement.

Miller and Old Quarry.

My head throbs.

Miller and Old Quarry.

A sound reaches me through the ringing in my ears.

I stop and listen.

Nothing.

I turn.

The road behind me is empty.

My pulse pounds.

I walk faster.

Another sound.

My ears strain.

Metal.

A car door.

My blood turns cold.

No.