I'll Stop the World (115)

Karl shifted into a crouch, still clutching the side of the truck bed. He didn’t dare try to get to his feet yet, not at this speed, but he could at least get into a position that would allow him to move quickly when the time came.

His sneaker caught on one of the shovels as he adjusted his position, making him lose his balance. Karl let out a yelp as the shovels clattered under his feet. He grasped at the truck, suddenly terrified he might fall out.

He heard a muffled shout and turned his head toward the cab of the truck.

The driver looked back at him, his eyes wide in the rearview mirror.





Chapter Seventy-Two


SHAWN

The truck skidded down Clayton Road, away from the school.

Shawn blinked rapidly, pulling in deep breaths. Mr. Warren had hit the floor hard, but Shawn thought he would be okay. He had to be okay. All Shawn had wanted was to get that list of locker numbers. No one was supposed to be there. No one was supposed to get hurt.

He didn’t think Mrs. Warren had gotten a good look at him in the parking lot.

And he didn’t think anyone had seen his truck parked around the corner.

Everything would be okay.

He followed the curve of the road toward Wilson Bridge. He’d drive to the fishing lot on the other side—it would be empty tonight—and burn the list. No one would know. Then he’d head to the debate, and no one would be the wiser.

Of course, the liquor stains on his pants might be a problem. He didn’t have time to stop at home for a change of clothes. Hmm. How was he going to explain that?

It started to rain, first a little, then a lot. Shawn turned the wipers as high as they would go, but they were still barely able to keep up with the rivers of water pouring onto the windshield.

Actually, this was good. If he parked down the street and walked the rest of the way to the community center, it would look like he just got caught in the rain. The stain on his pants would blend in with the rain. Problem solved.

As the truck passed under the steel arches of the bridge, something shifted in the bed of the truck. Shawn glanced in the rearview mirror, wondering whether something had fallen out, then squinted, trying to figure out what he was seeing.

A dark shape, moving around low in the bed. He couldn’t make it out in the rain.

Then he realized what it was. “What the hell?”

There was a person in the back of his truck.

Shawn’s eyes widened as whoever it was turned to look toward him. Their eyes met in the mirror as Shawn slammed on the brakes.

In his shock, he’d forgotten how hard it was raining.

The truck wheels locked, but the vehicle didn’t stop moving. It skidded and skipped over the wet pavement, spinning toward the sidewalk on the opposite side of the road, where— All the blood drained from Shawn’s face.

Someone was standing on the sidewalk, her face shining in his headlights, her mouth hanging open in surprise.

He was going to hit her. And there was nothing he could do to stop it.

Then, suddenly, she was gone, replaced by someone else.

He didn’t have time to see who it was before his tires hit the curb. The front of the car jumped into the air, Shawn pitched forward, and a body slammed against the windshield with sickening, deadly force.





Chapter Seventy-Three


ROSE

The bridge spooled out endlessly before her. Rose splashed through the puddles on the sidewalk, drenching the soft cream slacks she’d so carefully ironed that morning for the debate. But right now, her clothes were the last thing she cared about.

Too late too late too late, her feet seemed to pound out with every step. She tried to check her watch, but she knew what it would say. She’d left Charlene’s house with plenty of time to drive, but not nearly enough to walk. Even if she were capable of morphing into a track star and sprinting the few miles to the school through the pouring rain, there was no way she would make it in time to save the Warrens.

Any minute now, the fire would start. Noah was probably still waiting for her at her house. And Justin . . . well, she knew better than to rely on him.

Her eyes grew hot, tears mixing with raindrops. She’d failed. After everything, all her work, all her determination. Nothing was going to change. It had all been for nothing.

The rain and the darkness pressed in on her, suffocating her, the river roaring angrily far below. She had never felt so alone.

Her steps slowed. Why was she even still trying?

A rending squeal screamed through the night, drowning out the rain. Like a hundred jagged fingernails being dragged over a chalkboard.

It triggered a memory that was not a memory. Another road, another car. A part of Rose that was not Rose, yet was half of her, taken too suddenly and too soon.

Was this what she heard, at the end, before hearing nothing at all?

Rose spun, her heart jumping into her throat.

She raised her hands in front of her, stomach clenched, knowing there was no protection from this. Like a single small flower digging in its roots to brace against an avalanche.

All at once, she was washed in light.





Interlude

STAN, SEPTEMBER 30, 2023

By now, he’s gone.

Or maybe I’m gone?

I’ve never actually understood how it works, this hellish loop that I’m in. Is the Justin I helped raise actually me—the same me who drove off that bridge thirty-eight years ago, or five minutes ago, depending on how you look at it—or some sort of alternate-universe version of me? If he succeeds where I failed, will I cease to exist? Will the world change around me? Will I remember?