Carrion (The Bren Watts Diaries #1)

Chapter 7

Thinking the coast was clear, the other passengers began to climb off the bus. Some were crying. Others were in disbelief. A few idiots tried to take pictures of the grisly scene.

Natalie wiggled her way to Logan's side and hugged him while Carson continued to film, making crass comments along the way. Aria, clearly not amused, slapped his phone off his grip, and it clattered to the ground, broken. The two started arguing.

Logan and Natalie stared at me and my bloody clothes.

"Hey, let's get you away here for now," said Luke calmly.

I nodded as he steered me toward the sidewalk. Yousef joined us, asking if I was okay, and I forced a smile. I was shaken, the adrenaline still coursing through my veins like a flooded dam. I focused on my breathing, trying to calm down.

Logan, Natalie, Carson, and Aria joined us, though they stayed a few feet away as they tried to regain their composure. Carson didn't let his broken phone go and made his opinions known to anyone who would hear him. Natalie, scoffing at Aria and Carson, decided to stomp her way toward me. I stared at her in confusion.

"That was stupid, jumping into that," she said.

"What?"

"You could've gotten Logan killed. Or him." She pointed at Luke. "The only reason they're almost hurt is that they tried to help you."

Logan sauntered over and pulled her back. "Come on, babe, leave it."

I shrugged. I didn't know what to say, but that was all I could muster.

"Jeez, a man got killed today, girl," said Yousef.

"No thanks to him." Natalie rolled her eyes at him and whirled around, and stalked back toward the corner.

Logan gave me a pitied look and followed after her.

Luke nudged me. "Don't mind her. I think she's just scared."

"Two guys died tonight. You don't seem bothered by it," I said.

Luke frowned. "I have a good poker face."

I didn't answer, but it made me smile.

"You seem to be handling it well, too," he added.

I shrugged again at him. I didn't agree with that.

Traffic at the intersection stood still. Many people were getting out of their cars, probably horrified and curious about the crime scene in front of them and asking if they could help. The cop was the only first responder in the area, and he desperately tried to get the crowd back under control. The carnage attracted a large crowd.

Mr. Ramirez remained next to the bus driver, taking his jacket and placed it on top of the body so that others would stop recording it. "Back off! Have some respect, people!" Mr. Ramirez shouted.

"Damn. I can't get through my phone," Yousef said.

"You check the bars?" Luke asked.

"That's the thing: No signal. I had four bars minutes ago."

"Weird. First, the internet, and now this."

It was as if a light bulb lit up, raising the hairs all over my body. I couldn't shake off the feeling. Something was strange that night.

I felt it.

I couldn't put the finger on it, but I knew it was there. You could call it my instincts kicking in, like the animals that could sense an earthquake or a disaster was coming--a dull, throbbing echo at the back of my skull.

The sirens of the ambulance, the fire trucks, and the police cars were like an orchestra emanating throughout the city. I could hear them from all corners of the streets, encompassed the city with their symphony.

And then there was the smell of smoke. Something was burning. I could smell it wafting down the streets, fusing with the coppery smell of blood from the two fresh bodies lying on the intersection and from my clothes.

"Hey, is something wrong?" Luke asked me.

"I—uh, I don't know," I managed to say. "Just this feeling is all."

"Oh. You sure?"

I didn't answer him. I was distracted by the police officer's squad car, parked behind the bus and right in front of us. Peeking out vertically from the side of the transmission hump was a shotgun and an AR-15, magnetically locked by a sliding mount.

The squad car's door was open; possibly the cop was in a hurry to get to the scene.

Luke followed my gaze. "Never seen a gun before?"

"My dad's in the military. I've seen plenty," I said.

I stood up.

"Hey, hey, you're not thinking of grabbing those?"

I winced from the preposterous notion. "What? No! I'm—do you hear that?"

He listened. "I don't—"

"No. Listen closely."

A few seconds passed. It was hard to discern it from the sound of engines and noises of the people, coupled with the sirens going off, but there was a deep, reverberating sound out of all it, trembling in my bones.

A familiar sound...and it was getting closer.

Luke's eyes widened. "Is that a—"

"A plane."