The Guilt Trip(89)
She tenses everything, squeezing every muscle tight, waiting for the impact to come. When she crash lands, she’s sure she must be dead, as there is nothing but a pain-free silence all around her.
But the whirring scream of the car as it goes airborne brings her around, and she watches as it’s momentarily suspended in mid-air before plunging into the sea.
There are cries of pain and calls for help all around her, but as much as she feels compelled to go to them, she takes a second for her own self-assessment. She tentatively moves her arms up toward her head, waiting for the agony to manifest itself in whichever limb has been struck. She doesn’t quite believe that her head is still on her shoulders until she feels it with her hands. Working her way down her body, she pats herself, checking that everything is still where it should be. Her fingers instinctively recoil from a warm, wet patch at the top of her leg, and as she allows herself to focus, a deep, rhythmical throbbing starts beating from her hip.
She winces as she pulls herself up into a sitting position, looking around at faces wearing expressions identical to her own, none of them yet believing what they’ve just witnessed and in too much shock to move.
Rachel’s buoyed to see that there are more people standing than on the floor, though Ali’s mum is the only one she immediately recognizes. “My baby, my baby,” comes a blood-curdling scream, as she reaches a figure lying motionless on the floor. Rachel can see the white dress literally turning red in front of her eyes.
“Noah!” Rachel calls out, her tears mixing with the salty sea spray, stinging her face. “Noah!”
Like a celestial being, he emerges from the open-mouthed crowd, running toward her and falling to his knees. “Oh my God,” he cries. “Are you okay? Please tell me you’re okay.”
She nods. “What the hell happened? Have you seen Jack? Where’s Paige?”
He shakes his head. “I don’t know,” he croaks. “It came out of nowhere. I don’t know where they were. I don’t know where they are.”
Rachel’s aware of frantic movement all around her, as staff emerge from the restaurant with their hands on their heads and the wedding guests begin to call out in disbelief.
“Kimberley!” comes a desperate voice. “Ali!” cries another.
“Will?” Rachel shouts. “Will, is that you?”
She sees him stumbling around, disoriented. “Go to him,” she says to Noah. “See that he’s okay and find Jack and Paige.”
“The servi?os de emergência are coming,” calls out one of the waiters. “Please, be calm. They are here quickly.”
“Stay where you are,” says Noah, squeezing Rachel’s hand. “Help is on the way.”
Rachel nods as he leaves and she looks around, trying to match the bloodied outfits that just a few seconds ago had looked so glamorous to their owners.
A man, just a few meters away from her, groans as he comes round. Seeing the color of his trousers, and having made the observation earlier that it was only Will and Jack in dark suits, Rachel goes to get up, desperate to get to him. But she screams in pain as her leg buckles beneath her and she falls heavily to the ground.
“Jack!” she says, wanting to shout, but forcing herself to stay calm. He looks to be a minute or two behind her and she wants to give him the same moment she gave herself, to feel for what hurts and assimilate what has just happened.
As Jack rolls himself over, Rachel has to stop herself from recoiling in shock. One half of his face is covered in blood; the flesh that normally covers his cheekbone is flapping and his front teeth look to have gone through his bottom lip.
“Don’t move,” says Rachel, using her arms to drag herself along the floor toward him. “I’m here and help is on its way.”
He groans. “Please,” says Rachel. “Please don’t try to talk. You’re going to be okay. I promise.”
Those that had been floored by sheer terror and shock begin to stand, as if not quite believing they can. They pat themselves down and sob as they hug one another, the adrenaline that had coursed through them just seconds before now dissipated, leaving them drained and emotional.
“Paige!” calls out Noah, as he moves ever more frantically around the terrace, turning people to face him, as if he wouldn’t recognize his wife from behind. “Paige!”
“Aqui, bebe um pouco de água,” says a man kneeling down next to Rachel. She gratefully takes the bottle of water that he’s offering.
Blue flashing lights descend down the hill, the noise of the sirens piercing the eerily quiet atmosphere. As men in red jackets, with Bombeiros written across their chest, race onto the devastating scene, Will breathlessly explains in broken Portuguese what happened. It’s only as he uses his raised hand to describe the car going off the terrace and into the sea that Rachel acknowledges that if the car is now underwater, so is whoever might be in it.
Rachel looks out to the black thrashing ocean, which offers up no clue whatsoever to what’s just happened. A chill rushes through her as she imagines the submerged vehicle sitting on the seabed, the water rising second by second as the driver thrashes to get out. It would be impossible to see, the cold and the dark so disorienting that even if the car had landed the right way up, you’d never know it.
No, Rachel tries to convince herself: it was a runaway, it had slipped off its handbrake and come hurtling toward them in a million-to-one freak accident. It couldn’t have had a driver because that means that person is still in there.