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I managed to get to my feet and I jumped for the bus.
I climbed up as a few others slowly climbed out.
“Get away,” a goalie named Jeff said. “Gas. There’s gas everywhere.”
He pulled himself up and tumbled off the bus to the ground.
Jeff would never play hockey again but would become a coach in the minors and then get into the executive offices of a major team.
I dipped my head into the bus.
The sight would forever haunt me.
Everything is broken.
Everyone looks dead.
Some are dead.
Some aren’t. Yet.
I saw Remi.
Pinned between two seats.
His face wet. Clothes soaked too.
The strong smell of gasoline.
He looked at me.
“Remi,” I said.
“Get the others,” he said. “Save the others, Riff.”
“Give me your fucking hand,” I ordered. “I can pull you out of there.”
Remi reached his right hand forward.
Shaking.
He handed me something.
The painting from Fiona.
“Give this to her,” Remi said. “Tell her I saved it for her. So she can remember me.”
My heart twisted and I panicked in a way I never knew could exist.
I pulled myself down a little bit more and then fell back into the bus. On purpose.
I tried my best not to look around at anyone.
I looked at Remi.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Remi asked.
“Saving your ass,” I said.
