43. Kristina

43

KRISTINA

I was lifted and carried, scrambling to stay on my feet. All I could see was shoulders and necks and black, screaming mouths.

Another bomb went off, this one close enough that the world jolted and rocked and, when it stabilized again, there was no sound. I looked back for a second and, to my horror, the carriage was like a toy in the distance. Then smoke hid even that.

The crowd ran until it hit the end of the street, then pooled and twisted, splitting to rush down side streets. Someone pushed me in their panic and I slipped and went down. I saw backs and then—

No!

Running legs and—

No!

Feet.

I screamed and curled into a ball as I was trampled.