Page 70 of Catching Camila

Camila

Friday 7:50 a.m.

Camila clung to the metal girding and prayed. Holy Mary, Mother of God…

She tried not to look down. The metal railing was ice cold and her good hand felt numb, but she clutched the railing for dear life. The broken wrist… She couldn’t even bring herself to look at it. What had Nomad done to her? What else would he do?

The wind gusted again, splaying her hair back. The twenty-foot long walkway shimmied with the wind, making it feel even more unstable. She tucked her head to her chest, gripped the railing, and prayed.

Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death. Amen.

When Nomad had deposited her nearly fifty stories up at the top of the tower, Camila had felt relief. Anything not to be in the air, pressed against Nomad's sweaty body, his arms wrapped just below her breasts, his chin brushing against the back of her head. She'd spent most of the ride convinced that at any moment he would drop her just to watch her splat. But now, with the wind buffeting her like a steady slap and the tower jittering like a tree branch in a tornado, she knew this was worse.

She forced herself to look down at her broken wrist, clutched to her chest like a wounded animal. The pain blared like a foghorn, nearly blocking out rational thought, but somehow the eminent fear of death cleared her head. Pain was temporary. Death, well, that wasn't something you could just grin and bear.

“Let me down!” she yelled at Nomad, who stood on the other side of the twenty-foot walkway, his clothes fluttering in the wind.

Since he'd dropped her on the support tower, he'd pretty much ignored her completely, spending his time watching the horizon and staring down at the little cars trundling along. She steeled her nerve enough to let go of the railing and waved her good arm at him. “Let. Me. Down!”

His head snapped up at her, annoyance creeping onto his face. He didn't bother answering, just went back to scanning the horizon.

She wrapped her good arm around the metal railing and accidentally looked through the metal grate below. Her head swam at the height. So high. If she fell… She closed her eyes and pressed out the thought. Why was she so afraid? She hadn't had this fear when John had lifted her into the sky. Then again, she'd known he’d keep her safe. She swallowed and forced her eyes open. Maybe if she looked again, the fear would subside.

She let her eyes stray out over the water. The blue lake was beautiful this time of morning. She'd seen it once before on a church trip with a friend's youth group in eighth grade. In the morning light, the lake was almost purple, capped with frothy flecks of white. The cars were insects from this high. At first she'd hoped someone would see them and call the police, but now she knew better. Even if someone managed to look up, she and Nomad would be little black specks. Indecipherable from the metal tower.

She let her eyes follow Nomad's out to where the earth curved. John had to come. That was why Nomad brought her here. She was the worm dangling on a flashy hook, the peanut butter in the mousetrap. God, this all was so ridiculous. Then she looked down at the cars fifty stories below and lost her humor.

Would John care enough to come? To battle this insane superhuman for her? Camila pressed her forehead to the railing, an unease falling over her. She wasn't prize enough to warrant a duel to the death. She tried not to imagine what it would feel like to plummet from this height into the waves below. Didn't they say hitting water from this high up was like hitting concrete?

Nomad floated by again, an evil Peter Pan. The wind swirled his shoulder-length hair around his face, tugged his clothes back from the pudge around his belly. She yelled at him again as he passed. “He's not coming! Just let me go!”

Nomad's face darkened as he floated over nearer to Camila. “He's coming.” He flashed an evil smile. “He'll be here in a few minutes. And then you and I will help him see reason.”

Camila scoffed. “You're going to help him see reason? You? You're the craziest person I know.”

Nomad grabbed her uninjured forearm and tugged her off the walkway into open air, nearly dislocating her shoulder. Camila screamed, bicycling her feet through nothingness. Her eyes flashed to the churning water below, the frothy white caps large and hungry. She pictured drowning, how it would burn, the terror of sinking down into the dark depths before sucking in lungfuls of icy water. They'd find her bloated body in the cattails.

She clutched at his body as they hovered, clawing his clothes with her injured hand. “Put me down!”

“Then stop talking. You're annoying me.” He sailed back over and dumped her on the metal walkway.

Glass shards of pain arrowed from her wrist. She clutched it, moaning. The cool metal beneath her body was the only comfort she could find. She pressed her head to the floor, a rivet the size of a half dollar digging into her forehead. She would not cry. Not here. Not in front of the psychopath.

Tears streaked down her cheeks and were sucked up by the wind. There was no fighting Nomad. Her thoughts turned to Mama. Where was she now, in a jail cell? Did she wonder where her daughter was? She probably didn't picture Camila held captive at the top of a bridge by an alien mental case.

She flicked her eyes up, wanting to take in all the beauty before it was snatched away.

Something was streaking through the sky.

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