Page 71 of Catching Camila

John

Friday 7:55 a.m.

John soared toward the bridge, his eyes finding Camila. Tears were streaking down her cheeks and she cradled her wrist to her chest. What had Nomad done?

Anger exploded through his body as John drove straight into Nomad like a wrecking ball.

They sailed end over end, spiraling in the air. As they flipped, John's fingers fumbled onto Nomad's shirt and locked on. Their bodies slammed into the metal tower with a clang. Hovering in the air, John pinned Nomad to the bridge with one hand. He reached back for a punch with the other.

Nomad's eyes darted to John's fist. He slipped out of the T-shirt John was clutching. John, tossing the empty shirt aside, whirled around just in time to catch a kick in the side. John buckled, sailing back through space in a ball, pain exploding through his ribs.

“Why are you making this so damn hard?” Nomad shouted, pulling at his hair. “Just come back and let me show you. If you just remembered, all this agony could be over.”

John's eyes drew back to Camila. This could be over? Nomad meant over between him and Camila. He'd forget her and become…well, whatever Nomad and his superiors wanted him to be. He shook his head. “No way.”

“Then I'll take you in myself.” Nomad sailed forward and swung at John.

Nomad's knuckles smashed into his jaw like a sledgehammer. John's head snapped back, his vision blurring, his mind ringing like a gong. He spun in the air, arms wheeling to right himself. Finally he stopped spinning, placing both hands to his head. When his vision cleared, he saw Nomad holding Camila above the churning water below. His arms were locked around her chest, her feet dangling in open space.

John skidded to a stop, fists lowering. Camila's face was a war of relief and terror as she looked at him. The puffy wrist hung uselessly at her waist. John, she mouthed, a fresh tear pooling in one eye.

“Please,” John said, terror now beating out the anger, “don't.”

“Gods, listen to you,” Nomad said, flashing his teeth. “Lovesick Romeo. This isn't you, Jopari. You would've never dated a human. They're a sub-species. It'd be like her dating a spider monkey.” He squeezed Camila a little and her eyes flashed open.

“Don't hurt her!” John hovered closer, gasping, feeling the dread of losing her like a ton of bricks on his chest.

Nomad gave a shrug. “I think I already broke her.” He nodded to Camila's limp wrist, twice as big as normal. “Can't blame me. They're just so damn breakable. And that's the thing John, if you're with her long enough, you'll break her, too. I'm just saving you all that awful guilt.”

John thought of Camila going limp in his arms as he'd sailed through the clouds. He grimaced. “Just put her down, Nomad.”

“It doesn’t matter.” Nomad loosened his grip. Camila slipped down a few inches and gasped, her hands clawing for Nomad's shirt. Below, the water churned angrily. “They're coming. And once they're here, none of this will matter. You won't get a choice in whether you remember or not.”

“Who's coming?”

Nomad grinned. “Our people. I'll show you.”

John looked at Camila. She was watching him desperately. “I'll come. Just let her go.”

Nomad smiled. “Sure thing.”

He opened his arms.

John watched it in slow motion—the shock on her face as Nomad's arms left her, the pull of gravity, her hair, her clothes angling upward as she went down, slipping past Nomad into space. The shock turning into fear, into terror.

Oh God. No!

John dropped after her.

He plummeted down. The wind pushed at his eyes, making him squint, but he kept his sights locked on Camila as she fell. He pushed with all his will downward, down toward the waves, down toward the cars. His heart would burst, but he pushed down, down, down.

Camila fell like a broken-winged bird, her arms wheeling, her clothes fluttering around her like limp feathers. Her dark brown hair lashed up over her face. Right now she'd be thinking of death, thinking she'd smack into the cold water before he'd reach her.

No,he thought, gritting his teeth. I'll save her.

He snatched at her arm, but his fingers sliced through empty air. He pushed down, his body groaning, every atom vibrating as he plummeted. Thirty feet from the waves. Twenty. He could almost taste the lake they were so close. He reached for her hand as the water rose up to meet them. She looked up. Between the long ribbons of hair, her face was fixed with terror, but a sliver of relief too, as if she believed in him. He pulled her body to his, folding himself around her, and used his body to cushion her fall.

They hit the water like a sack of rocks.

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