Page 107 of If This Gets Out

I reach Zach, and get my arms around him. This close, I can differentiate his screams from the others. He’s not screaming Angel. He’s screaming “Reece.” Over and over again, to the ground, hunched over with his eyes squeezed shut so he doesn’t have to see.

Then there’s nothing to see anymore anyway. Just a wall of bodies, as the crowd closes over us to share in our grief. Everything is distant, and floating.

I think they’re suffocating me.

I think they’re drowning us.

The weight of the crowd on us is crushing. I can’t get air in. I can’t focus, I don’t know the answer, I can’t think, because—

Angel’s lying on the road, and he’s not moving.

I don’t want to stand. I just want to kneel here, holding onto Zach, keeping him steady as he screams out the name of someone he knew as a young boy. I don’t want air, and I don’t need it. I don’t mind being crushed.

Then strong hands grab me, and pull me free from the fray. It’s one of the Chase guards. Another guard strides over and stands between me and the crowd, so I can suck in air. Before I can fear for him, I spot another guard emerging from the crowd with Zach. He’s safe. Okay.

But—

Angel’s lying on the road, and he’s not moving.

I can’t cry. I want to, but I can’t. I feel nothing. I see nothing, except Angel’s motionless body, even though he’sblocked from sight by the swarm. I can’t see Erin or Jon. I call for Zach, but the guard shakes his head. “Not now,” he says.

“Is Angel okay? We need to go back.”

“Not now.”

“Let me go to Zach, then. I need to be with Zach.”

“Not now.”

The screams don’t fade as the guard steers me firmly to the refuge of the hotel.

It doesn’t matter how far away we get.

The screams don’t fade.

TWENTY

ZACH

They won’t let us see Angel.

Erin has been messaging us updates, that he’s alive and okay, so we at least know that much. Well, he’s as okay as you can be with a compound fracture, some bruised ribs, and a bunch of scrapes and a possible head injury. They’re not sure how bad it is yet.

But he’s awake, and is mostly okay. He got lucky, that’s for sure.

If they’re telling the truth, that is. We can’t know for sure, because all we have is their word; we aren’t allowed to be with him. Apparently that will cause a scene and will draw even more attention to what’s happened, which Chorus wants to avoid at all costs. Footage of Angel’s accident has spread around the Internet as fast as anything involving us does, but Chorus is really trying to make sure this only lasts one news cycle. That means no visits until it’s all blown over.

Normally, I somewhat get why they keep us out of the loop of big stuff, and I trust that they know how to handle whatever situation is going on best. This is so far from being normal, though.

He’s our friend, and he’s hurt. We should be with him. Being here feels wrong.

Ruben and Jon are in Ruben’s room, waiting for more news, but I left about an hour ago to try to get some sleep. “Try” being the operative word. I can’t get comfortable, as everything feels cloying and too hot.

I get out of bed, and start pacing. The clock on the bedside table says it’s just past four a.m., which makes me think sleep at this point is going to be impossible.

The accident replays in my mind. It’s vivid, down to every minute detail. I can still hear the dull thud of him hitting the hood and tumbling over, before finally hitting the road facedown.

And then the silence.

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