yelled, “Die like your fucking mom, Josie.”
I held the girl tighter.
She wrestled away and leaned into the wind, fists tight at her sides, and screamed, “I’m going to live like her, asshole!”
The wheels kicked up mud, but once they gained purchase, Bates faded away at warp speed. No one dared move until distance shrank his taillights into pinpricks.
Finally, Josie spoke, her voice tiny and amazed. “He’s gone.”
Carl flipped the gun cylinder out like an old pro to unload the extra ammo, but there wasn’t any. The only slug had been swallowed up by the sky, and good riddance. We didn’t need it anymore.
Carl closed the weapon back up and tucked it into the front of his elastic waistband, the corners of his lips teasing into a satisfied smile; he’d bluffed and won.
“Is everyone okay?” Anderson bellowed.
A stream of answers followed. Yes. Good. Fine. Alive.
Nora emerged from the bus with Carl’s walker. Valencia appeared too, gripping Alice’s elbow. The rain came down harder now, dropping heavily onto Alice’s looping salon-set curls.
Anderson strode to me, adrenaline still oozing from him. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
I motioned to his split lip. “Better than you.”
He wiped the blood away with the back of his hand.
“You did good, kid,” I said.
He relaxed into a swell of pride while I coughed. My breath had yet to catch up with me, or maybe it was the other way around. Before I decided, a train horn sounded in the faraway distance.
Anderson flicked his wrist to check his watch. “Shit. Train’s coming.”
The women picked up speed, heading toward the center of the bridge. Carl stood near the box, holding a black urn like it was a baby. Josie sprinted to his side, taking it out of his hands so he could walk. They came forward together, and it was a sight. A beautiful, sorrowful sight, which managed to take my breath away and give it right back to me.
Anderson and I trailed the crew, steering clear of their whipping skirts and hair until they turned upwind. Josie stopped at the railing, and we surrounded her, tight as a hug.
“What do I do before I let her go?” she asked.
“Say a prayer,” Carl said.
Josie looked to me, me, and so I spoke, almost reflexively. The Serenity Prayer poured from my mouth—from my soul—in its entirety, and not just the most familiar first four lines. My voice carried with the storm, reaching past the faraway thrum of the coming train. It held strong even as my insides crackled. At the end of it, I drew a ragged breath as Josie uncapped the urn.
It didn’t happen like in my dream. The weather wouldn’t let it. Josie didn’t even have to turn the urn upside down. She merely tipped it, and the gale reached in and pulled Kaiya out. She vanished upon exit. No long goodbye, no time for tears. Probably the departure she would’ve preferred after spending too many years here, disappearing.
A collective exhale followed the final speck of dust, except from me. I couldn’t breathe. My chest pained me again, sharp and telling. It turned my vision red at the corners and seared me from the inside out. I staggered, though this time no girder caught my backpedal.
When I fell, I landed hard but didn’t feel it. The group turned to me in surprise and, next, descended like a tidal wave. My name came in a chorus without harmony. Duffy. Duffy. Duffy.
It occurred to me briefly that I was having a heart attack. Past the pain, the realization was an afterthought, as if I were thinking of how tall I was or when my birthday was. October twelfth. Sometimes on Columbus Day. But not always. Not this year.
I took stock of the faces looking down at me. Anderson’s disappeared. Josie’s came close, her skin damp, her hair plastered against her neck.
She shook me by the shoulders. “Duffy, don’t. Don’t you dare.”
I’m fine, I wanted to say. Fine. But I couldn’t find my voice.
“Stay here,” she pleaded. “Stay