Page 10 of Heartbreak Hill

He stepped off to the side and looked at his bib numbers, 777. Rafe was far from superstitious but would take this as a sign. “Lucky sevens,” he muttered to himself. On his way home, he’d buy a lotto ticket.

“Everyone line up, please,” someone with a loudspeaker said. Casually, everyone moved toward the starting line. Rafe looked around. Last year, they’d had thirteen hundred runners, and if he had to guess, the amount was the same this year.

Rafe had a plan—keep pace with whoever jumped out front; then he’d turn on his boosters, as Lynnea called them, and beat them to the finish line.

The firing gun sounded, and everyone took off. He wove in and out of groups of people and found himself a nice groove rather quickly. Rafe liked running alone. He enjoyed the solitude but also the freedom he felt. After passing a couple more runners, he counted five people ahead of him. The woman to his right wore those over-the-ear headphones and had established a good pace. He matched it easily. In two or three blocks, he’d surge ahead to the next person, and then again until he had a mile to go. Unless the leader had bigger boosters than him.

Along the route, people cheered. They had signs, miniature megaphones, and other artificial noisemakers. He heard cowbells, lots of clapping, and a car horn. The latter seemed odd, until he saw the group of people blocking the street scramble out of the way.

In a split second, he saw the car careening toward him and the other runners. It was like time had stopped, and nothing existed except thecar and the muddled sound of its horn. In a flash, the runner he had passed, the one with the headphones, zipped by.

Rafe saw it all unfold. He rushed toward her and pushed her out of the way. She turned and looked at him with horror etched across her face. She yelled, but he couldn’t hear her over the screaming and the horn. Why wasn’t she grateful he’d moved them out of the way?

FOUR

NADIA

Nadia sped through the side streets, getting as close to Harvard Square as she could. They had planned poorly. Rafe should’ve taken the car, while she and the girls should’ve taken the T. Parking was hard to find any day of the week, but add in an annual road race and it became nonexistent. Panic grew as she navigated the narrow streets of Cambridge. She shot down one side street and then another, finally choosing to turn in to one of the parking lots at Harvard. If she got a parking ticket, oh well. They weren’t going to be there for very long.

After gathering the girls (and against angry protests from both), she all but dragged them to Harvard Square, where the finish line was. Thankfully, her in-laws were already there, holding a spot for them.

“We didn’t think you’d make it,” Cleo, her mother-in-law, said. Her tone had a bite to it, which Nadia didn’t appreciate. Over the past year, Cleo’s attitude toward Nadia had iced, for unknown reasons. Nadia had mentioned it a few times to Rafe, who had witnessed a couple of encounters of his own. He, too, didn’t understand the change in demeanor. Nor had Otto, Rafe’s father.

“We wouldn’t miss it,” Nadia said as she fought against rolling her eyes. She moved the girls to the front and then stood next to Otto, apologizing to the people behind him.

“How was our boy this morning?” Otto asked. Rafe was their only boy. He was the older brother of Freya. Uncle to Leif and Astrid. Brother-in-law to Lars.

“He was good. Ready to have fun. He said he’d finish in under an hour.” Nadia looked at the time on her phone. “Which should be soon.” She pressed the button for her video camera and told the girls to start watching for their dad.

Nadia leaned forward but didn’t see any runners coming toward her. She wondered if the race had started late, which was possible. Rarely did anything start on time these days.

A medical alert tone sounded. Nadia glanced across the street at the medical tent, which had been set up at the finish line to aid runners if they needed attention. She watched as medical personnel grabbed their bags. Two medics ran up the street, while another few jumped into one of those utility vehicles known as side-by-sides. Her eyes followed them up the middle of the race route, where spectators scrambled.

Then she heard it.

The screaming.

The sirens.

“Something’s wrong,” she said to Otto, Cleo, to whoever heard her. “Someone’s hurt.”

Lynnea went to Nadia, with her hands covering her ears. Otto picked her up. “Grandpa will hold you,” he said to her.

Very few people moved away from the finish line, and those who stayed watched with rapt attention, waiting for some news. An uncomfortable silence fell over the crowd.

“Where’s Rafe?” Cleo asked.

Nadia pulled her phone from her pocket and looked at his location. He was near where the ambulance was blocking the street. Her husband was up there, likely helping whoever needed aid.

“I’ll be right back,” she told her in-laws. She made her way through the crowd, periodically looking at her phone and where she was going. When she saw an opening into the street, she took it and briskly walkedtoward the commotion. Halfway there, she pressed Rafe’s name and held her phone to her ear.

No answer.

“Hey, babe. It’s me. Just checking to see where you are. We know something happened on the course. Call me.” She hung up after leaving the voicemail and called him back. Again, no answer.

The closer she came to the commotion, the more anxious she felt. A police officer stopped her from coming any closer to the ambulance. “I’m sorry, but you can’t go this way.”

“My husband ...,” she started to say and then stopped. Nadia tapped her phone and pulled up Rafe’s location. “This says he’s in there, somewhere. I need to find him.”

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