and he gives a vicious kick to the hood of the truck. It rocks up… up… up… and then I’m sure it’s going to fall with one more kick that doesn’t come.
“What the fuck is that?” I hear Traynor say hoarsely over the groan of metal. Then, above all else, I hear it—the beating of wings.
Cal.
An answering roar comes from above. It is filled with such extraordinary fury that it shreds my heart. I try to call out to him, but I can’t find any words, less and less making sense in the garbled mess in my mind. Instead, I scream out to him and let all my anger and fear pour out of me. Only one thought repeats over and over: He came. He came.
He came.
He answers my cry with another furious shout and the beat of wings grows louder even as the truck creaks and tips dangerously. The blood continues to drip down my side and face and another wave of nausea rolls over me. My vision narrows and shadows start to dance across my eyes, unconsciousness trying to pull me under, clawing at me, dragging me down. Not thinking, I snap my head back and forth, trying to keep myself awake. Blood sprays in tiny droplets over the ceiling of the cab, which rocks even further. Traynor cries out again, but there is terror in his voice now, not just pain. Abe clutches his arm and gasps as the truck tips up again, causing him to roll further into the cab. The truck tips up again, and it reaches an apex, so much farther up than it was before. I know this is it, this is the moment when the truck will slip off the edge and I will fall into the river, and I will drown just like my father did.
Some part of me recognizes that your life is supposed to flash before your eyes at the moment of your death. Time is supposed to be slow so you remember every little detail about your life in a series of memories—still photos that burst across your mind like a comet in the dark. You see the good. You see the bad. You see the people you’ve hurt, the people you’ve loved. Memory explodes like a star and it rushes over you in an overwhelming wave that blocks out all other senses.
This does not happen to me. I do not see my past.
I see my future.
The wings beat again, and a whistling sound cracks through the air, signifying a heavy descent. Traynor screams and kicks his leg up into the air again, but whether a reflex of fear or to kick the truck again, I don’t know. Before his foot can make contact with the truck, there’s a flash of brilliant blue and the cab shakes as the ground rolls beneath it when the angel Calliel lands on the bridge. He snaps his hand out and grabs Traynor by the ankle before he can connect with the truck again. Traynor’s scream is choked off. Cal snarls at him and pulls on his leg, whipping him around and hurtling him in the other direction. I can see Traynor’s face for a split second, and his eyes are blown out, his mouth twisted open so wide that he reminds me of the Strange Men. He makes no sound as he flies out of my line of sight, only leaving a brief arc of blood from the wound on his side. I hear him crash down on the other side of the bridge, and I feel a brief moment of remorse that he didn’t go over the edge.
But the thought disappears as the truck starts to slide off the edge of the bridge. The grating of metal against the cement behind me is so loud I have no choice but to bring my hands to my ears in an attempt to block it out. The seat belt pulls against my hips as I swing back and forth. I close my eyes. This is it. So close. This is it.
But it’s not.
The truck shakes as something slams into the top of it. It’s jarring, the shockwaves cause my teeth to chatter, and then the truck stops moving. I open my eyes and see Cal standing at the front of the truck, his lower body straining, his wings starting to flicker in and out around him like the bald Strange Man.
“You have to get out!” he yells. “I can’t hold it.”
“Abe, go!”
He