Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 63716 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 319(@200wpm)___ 255(@250wpm)___ 212(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63716 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 319(@200wpm)___ 255(@250wpm)___ 212(@300wpm)
Another accident, I thought, joining the surge after a moment’s hesitation. Someone had gotten hurt, and now everyone wanted to see it for themselves. It was probably gruesome. I doubted Julian would be capturing it on camera, even if he was close enough. It wouldn’t serve the documentary. I tried to spot him in the crowd, but even with his considerable height, I couldn’t find him. There were too many people. I saw bright, lurid colors and all the shades of midnight, but I didn’t see gold.
I was halfway through the crowd, people pressed in tightly on either side. I couldn’t smell the crisp, ocean-salted air anymore. It was stale, a mash of body odor, sweat, and synthetic sweetness. I tipped my head back, trying to get a whiff of fresh air, but my head bumped someone’s shoulder. I couldn’t turn to apologize. People were all around, so close. So many of them.
Fear tried to claw its way up my throat, but I pushed it back down. I’d never liked tight places. I took the stairs instead of elevators whenever possible. When I went to New York City, I’d walk the length of the island before I took the subway.
So you’ll get out, my brain said reasonably. No big deal. You’ll find Julian and Miller when this breaks up.
But I still couldn’t turn around. The momentum of the crowd at my back was too strong. The best I could manage was to stand still, but I couldn’t keep my feet planted for long. There was a relentless drive to move forward, but I couldn’t figure out where they were all moving toward.
I didn’t care. All I knew was that I didn’t want to be part of it. I wanted to get out, but no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t get out of the riptide of people. And the answer of where they were going was answered–they weren’t going anywhere because there was nowhere to go. They were just packing into the viewing platform more and more tightly.
I started to hear cries of alarm.
“Back up. There’s no more room, guys. Back the fuck up.”
But the knot of people that had bunched up around me didn’t loosen. Arms, legs, backs, chests pressed against me from all sides. I caught the wild-eyed gaze of a girl beside me, and my anxiety kicked into overdrive. This wasn’t my claustrophobia making me think it was worse than it was, it really was bad. Dangerously bad. I tried to take a deep breath, but there was no room. No air.
“Back the fuck up.”
“Come on, people are getting hurt.”
“Seriously, get back!”
A few feet away, a guy was telling his girlfriend to climb up on his shoulders. Their friends were trying to help. I could see her face, white as a sheet, her hands shaking. I recognized a panic attack when I saw it because I was on the verge of one as well. I needed help, but there was no one here to help me. Big black circles were clotting my vision as the fear squeezed in as tightly as the bodies. The surging had finally abated, but we were locked in a crushing standstill.
They’re not pushing anymore, I told myself. It’s okay. It’s okay. There was nothing soothing about rationality though. Not today. My breath hitched in my lungs, cutting off even the dank, warm air I’d been breathing. Gray was beginning to swarm between the black dots in my vision, but suddenly, gold and blue cut through it.
Julian, improbably, was in front of me. Against the sea of heads turned away from me, toward whatever spectacle had caused this pile up, to see someone facing me was a shock. It sent a jolt of adrenaline through my body, loosening the band around my chest, clearing my vision. He said something I couldn’t hear. I shook my head.
“Come on,” he repeated. I could tell he was yelling the words now, but his voice still sounded like it was packed in cotton. I nodded agreement, but it was a hollow gesture. I couldn’t tell whether it was the people or the panic attack that was slowly locking up my body, but my legs wouldn’t cooperate.
Julian’s hand pushed through two of the bodies boxing me in and got hold of my arm. At first, it felt like he was pulling me into a concrete wall. There was no give, just crushing pressure. Then, with an angry grumble, the wall shifted, and I was next to him. There was still no space, no air, but at least I wasn’t trapped in this human coffin with strangers anymore.
Julian scanned my face. Before I could stop him, he slid my sunglasses down my nose, and his blue eyes searched mine. I still couldn’t hear him over the buzzing in my head, but I could read his lips. “Panic attack?” he was asking.