Chapter 28
twenty-eight
Lou appears wearing the same shirt as Aggie and Paul, except he’s accessorized his with a pair of lime-green leopard-print skinny jeans and a pink boa. He waves the rope of flowing feathers above his head.
Seeing the three near the starting line, cheering Evan and me on, I allow myself a moment of happiness.
For the first time after, I’m positive I’m where I’m supposed to be, with friends who care.
The only person missing is Ozzy. Together, they’re my new family.
I’m no longer alone. Happiness spreads across my face.
Evan stands beside me. We’re stretching and talking smack. This, too, makes me happy, even if he has more your momma jokes than I do.
The announcer welcomes everyone to the race. We find our spots and stand ready. A digital clock counts down at the starting line. When it hits zero, an air horn blows and thousands of runners launch forward. Evan and I are locked within the moving mass for several blocks until the pack breaks.
With the space widening around us, I set a slower pace for the twenty-six-plus miles ahead.
Evan settles in too. At this point, he seems unconcerned about winning.
But I know what he’s waiting for, because I’m waiting for the same thing—the view of the finish line.
As soon as I see it, I’ll blow him away.
At a first-aid station, I grab a plastic cup of water and drink it.
At the next one, I splash the water on my face.
My favorite part is running through Lincoln Park beneath the now bare trees.
It’s here I hit my second wind, my body relaxing, and I exert less energy.
With my cape flowing behind me, I could run forever.
When we pass through the Andersonville neighborhood, Ozzy’s nursing home comes into view.
My heart leaps when I spot him sitting in a wheelchair on the sidewalk.
Other residents and nursing aides cheer beside him, each waving a sign above their heads that read messages like, Go, Cait!
and Cait the great! When I realize he’s organized my own cheering section, I practically melt at the sight.
Splitting off from the pack, I run to Ozzy. “Thanks for being here.” I give him a kiss on his cheek, and then fist-bump each of his friends before taking off again.
“I need one of those capes,” Ozzy calls.
I turn and spread my cape wide so he can read it, then I ripple it dramatically in the wind. Today I’m Superwoman, and nothing can stop me.
“Who was that?” Evan asks when I rejoin him.
“Ozzy.”
“The dude you bribe with candy?”
“He’s my friend. And minus the bribing part, he’s agreed to sell me the house.” I shoot him a smug expression.
“I’m happy for you, Cat.”
“Thanks.” I nudge him with my shoulder.
The race weaves through neighborhoods of cheering spectators, and at mile twenty, the buildings of the Northwalton Campus appear.
At the mere sight of them, I find myself off-kilter as my muscles tense and my stride falters.
I do my best to adjust, but my body seems heavier.
Stiffer. Achy. Perhaps if I lock on mental blinders, I won’t even realize where I am?
“You okay?” Evan must sense the change.
“Just planning my win,” I say, delivering a little jab.
“That’s all it will ever be. A big fat plan.”
I allow his comment to ignite my competitiveness and distract my roaming thoughts.
I quicken my pace, determined to run out the last six miles.
We enter the canyon of the campus. I stare straight ahead, focusing blocks away to where the edge of the Chicago River divides the city.
If I can make it there, I’ll be through it all.
The race route twists. They’re weaving us through every street to fill out the final miles, but it’s in the next bend that I see it. The park. My park. It’s beautiful and green, and exactly as it was in my dreams.
Awareness blooms. What’s here is too similar to my dreams for them not to be real. The images in my mind at night really are slivers of information coming back to me. This is proof. My heart leaps.
But then I see that spot, the exact location I was lying when it happened. It’s illuminated by a shaft of sunshine and framed by the building’s long shadows of jagged, graphite-colored formations. Fate is testing me by pointing it out.
I can be fearless, or I can fold. Determined to fight it, I clench my hands, but my feet slow, dragging my toes. My legs strain to lift my shoes. They’re suddenly the weight of bricks.
Then I hear it. Music.
My head jerks to the sound. It’s a guitar melody in the distance—the same song from my dream.
Through the crowd of spectators and runners, I frantically scan, searching for the source.
When I can’t find it, I stop in the middle of the street and turn to face the oncoming runners.
I’m an unmovable rock splitting a river as they rush around me.
Someone screams. Then another. I whip my head from side to side to find the source, but the runners morph into people scattering for their lives.
It’s pure chaos. No. Pure hell.
My legs weaken, and I collapse to the asphalt, scraping my knees.
Blistering pain explodes from within my body.
Arm. Stomach. Leg. Healed scars become open wounds, excruciating and burning.
I roll from side to side as blood spreads.
I’m remembering it, hot and sticky and pouring out of me, draining to the ground, taking my happiness with it.
In the mayhem, I use the air left in my lungs to scream. It’s shrill and agonizing. My chest constricts. I wheeze.
I grab my throat. I can’t breathe. I’m suffocating and straining to survive.
My surroundings blur. I tilt and fall, my cheek and shoulder crashing to the pavement before inky spots spread like feathering watercolors behind my eyes.
Then . . . darkness.