…flying everywhere. Screams and shouts erupt just as quickly and simultaneously as the blast goes off.

It must have been– no doubt it was a bomb.

Neave and I have both been hit with small bits of bricks, but around us people are wounded far worse.

My ears ring loudly and I’m cloaked in dust. Through the hazy smoke and dust and late afternoon light I see two figures, heavily protected in armor and carrying small guns with mass effect.

My vision goes in and out. I see them come in, pick Neave up and exit. This has to be reported. No. I can’t let them take her. Not now. We have come so far.

“Neave!” I scream out. My voice hurts– the sound of my voice hurts. I can’t even hear properly because it sounds as if a bell had gone off in my head.

“Ol–er” I hear her call out to me. I will myself to get up and go after her, and I do, eventually, but when I do I fall down again. I keep trying, but I stumble. I take the quickest way out of the horribly filthy and damaged café, through the gaping hole that now exposes everything. I stagger out just as they load her into a sleek city vehicle and drive off in a rush. I am too slow.

No. No– “Neave!” I say almost hopelessly and watch as they drive off and slap my hands on my head. I still can’t even walk properly.

What do I do next? What do I do next? I stop the first motor I see, “Get out of the car!” I say as if I’m about to cry. “Get out!” I yell loudly at an old man of at least sixty. He seems startled. He doesn’t know what to do. Not a lot of people have been in a hijacking situation. I’m assuming it is especially rare in Budapest.

“Get out.” I say as the first tear trickles out. He does eventually, hurriedly. I can see why they chose this time to snag my dear blue eyed girl: the streets are practically empty. I claim the driver’s seat and speed, leaving the old man stranded on the road by the café.

“Neave, no!” I say frantically as I drive in the direction the car left with her. I spot it in the direction of the bridge that links two cities. They won’t get away with her. I forbid them. I jolt like a rocket to the car that seems to speed when I move.

It drives– or seemingly so, drives onto the bridge as if to mislead me. It does so successfully. Without thinking– but only thinking of Neave, I make a sharp U-turn, almost hitting one of the oncoming vehicles. I drive straight in the direction that Neave’s captors took off in and I see them. This time, they are too slow. I hit them right in the taillight. They jolt forward. They pick up speed now and I follow hot on their trail.

I hit them with this car again. Once. Twice. The third time they speed and I miss the opportunity.

“No.” I say, “No. Neave! No. No!” I say heatedly. I can’t lose her. I feel that when they get away with my Neave, they will surely kill her. Someone who does not exist. Her blood will be on my hands.

As absurd as the thought may be, I should have been the one to take her. We could have been on a plane by now, high above the clouds she could control. If only she had come with me…

The car I chase makes a sudden stop and I drive straight into it, activating the airbags. For a quick second I lose my breath. The next, I recover and push the airbag out of my way.

I am going to lose her. I am going to lose her.

The thought is stuck in my head that I am going to lose Neave in this chase, forever. I will never see her again.

I think about giving up the chase. I think about giving up Neave.

Giving up Neave to the hand that starved them of freedom. Giving her up to the hand that killed her kind. I would be just like those people.

I will not let that happen. I speed away, once again hot on their trail just as the car makes a turn in the opposite direction. I will not let them get away with her. I chase them fast now. Like a cheetah chases its prey. I will not let them take her from me.

The car makes a fast but steady turn onto the bridge and I do the same.

They drive steadily, whereas I move fast, risking hitting almost every other damn car that makes its way into my route.

I finally see the mobile. I hit it once more and I’m almost at the end when the ground quakes and shakes the vehicle.

This is scary. A few of the bridge’s cables snap and slam down in front of my car. I see the ground on the side of bridge where I am, abruptly sink in and go to wrack and ruin where Neave’s car just manages to get over. I stop, instantly, causing a small wreckage and pile up on the bridge because my animal instinct to survive kicks in.

What has happened sets in. I lost her. They escaped. I lost Neave. I stare out of the windshield, but I don’t have time to lament because the vehicle tilts inward and the ground crumbles below me. I have to make it out of the car. I unbuckle my seatbelt and stagger out.

“Out– Get out of the car.” I yell, just as the hijacked car falls inward. Now people realize what is happening and if they don’t escape the comfort of their seats, they’ll be sent into a watery grave. They freak out of their cars, those with motorcycles are lucky as they can just turn around and drive off. Not me. Not the rest of us. I have to move quickly because a stampede has just erupted.

As I run away, I think of her. I hear screams; surely they originate from people caught under foot.

We all run as fast as possible off the bridge.

I sense the loss of bodies behind me. I glance behind me while I outrun most. I make eye contact with a man with a cane. He’s not fast enough as the ocean water engulfs him. I see another two, a boy of eleven and a girl of eight. They fall in, too, and as they do, my eyes widen. What has she done?

I make it to the solid ground, along with a scant few others.

I stare in horror and awe as the bridge crumbles into the ocean, making large splashes like the cars that will sink with them, along with the people that will hopefully be rescued in time. I doubt they will– or can be saved. Even if they are, what about the others that died in the fall?

I stare and stare. And when I completely lose my sense, I let out a long, pained scream.

…Sorry. I am so sorry Neave. I am sorry that you got away. I am sorry I could not save you.

I keep thinking of her as the ambulance staff gather around people who now have hypothermia and… others that are probably dead. I’m sure people like the old man did not have a fighting chance. Maybe the children were strong enough to stay afloat for the past hour, because that’s how long it took for the emergency responses to act.

This isn’t her fault. She didn’t know what she was doing. Neave was in a panic. She was only trying to defend herself.

I stare across the water. To wherever Neave could be now. She could be dead.

“She could be dead.” I say. I bet I look like a wreck. My eyes are tainted red with tears, my hair and face are packed with dirt, and here I am, wearing clothes of two days ago, draped in a silver blanket and covered in dust and spray.

There are sirens wailing all around. I don’t even notice the man nudging my shoulder He’s an officer of the law. Behind him is a woman who looks like she may be an investigator.

“I don’t speak Hungarian.” I say, barely audible over the loud scene. The man taps me on the shoulder with two fingers then, gesturing for me to get up and follow him. They aren’t agents of the Bureau, so I follow them willingly. I don’t even care what happens to me now. I failed in my mission. I lost Neave.

I wonder what happens to Neave when I am not at her side.

We drive through the city. Past the café where there are more emergency response teams, past Neave’s apartment– that’s when I let go. I let one tear free and they cascade down my face like a waterfall. The two officers say something in the language I cannot understand, but now everything sounds like a mumble. Car horns, loud music, conversations, all those sounds just clash in a wild, vehement argument. I can’t cope with anymore, so I block out the sound with my hands over my ears.

We stop, eventually. Where of all places? Obviously a police station.

Before I know it, cold steel chastises my wrists.

“What’s happening?” I ask numbly without interest.

The female investigator begins to say my Miranda rights out loud.

I fully react and ask, calmly, with a little more life: “What’s happening?”

“Anything you–” Clearly I’m not going to get any answers.

At this point I decide que sera sera: what will be, will be.

And you were at that hotel two times?” Detective Kerr of the police department asks.

“Three.” I say honestly. After the language barrier was finally broken, the questions came like a flood. After I answer, she looks at me, judging me. All I can think about is Neave.

She takes in a sharp breath and moves to the next question: “Tell me, Oliver, how is it that every room you’ve stayed in, someone got killed?”

“I… I don’t know. Maybe because they can’t mind their own business and stay out of my life? Maybe they were at the wrong place at the wrong time.” I say, careful not to give anything away.

“How did you get that bruise?” she asks.

“I was in the café that blew up.” I say. It’s a half truth.

She nods, “So what were you doing by the bridge?”

I open my mouth and the words flow: “I was chasing down whoever bombed that place.” I say, very truthfully.

She nods again, “Okay, and… back to the hotel story… Do you know how they got access to your rooms?”

“Not a clue. Honestly. I’d assume room service.” I say. That is the actual truth. I have no idea how those agents found Neave.

“And what time did you leave? Before or after the killings?”

“Must have been before, seeing I can’t remember it– The killing, that is…” I say. I note that my tone is rather pompous toward these foreigners. I’m the foreigner.

She looks at me with scrutinizing blue eyes.

“Fine.” She says and leaves me alone for the next hour.

Every second I waste here, Neave could be dead.

Later, she comes back in, thwarted somewhat by something. I won’t even ask. “Well, we don’t have any evidence on the hotel murders,” she says and gives me a look. “That, and arresting you, would just be unnecessary work for your embassy since the only eyewitness… whose car you stole and wrecked…”

“I didn’t wreck his car. I was going to return it if it hadn’t fallen in with the bri–” I am cut off.

“–The only eyewitness isn’t pressing charges, so I guess you’re free to leave.” She raises her voice above mine. “Go on.”

And just like that, the frail, useless-without-his-lover Oliver was discharged. Just that simple. He left.

And that is why the law is shitting, too. Because my arrest is unnecessary work for my embassy. At least I am free. “Thank you,” I say.

“Just be thankful the cameras were not working in the halls those days” she says.

“Thank goodness the cameras weren’t working,” I say sarcastically under my breath.

“But, I do, however, have a strong feeling you’re lying. There is nothing I can do… Truth, between you and I, foreigner. I feel the reason they didn’t work is because the murders were premeditated.”

No way! Do tell me more! Please, tell me something I don’t know! “Do you know who the killer was?”

“Not a clue.” She says. “Stay out of trouble.”

“I’ll try my best.” I say, and that being said, I leave.

I step out into the cold night air. It’s nine and the city seems to have come to life following the events of the tragedy on the bridge. Where I lost Neave.

I stride solemnly onto flat ground. Where do I go?

I take a few more aimless steps and a car horn hoots at me. It’s a rental, the one I’m standing next to. I look past the window at the person who honked, even though I can’t see anything. The window rolls down, revealing an unfazed Mendes and Lily. Their friend just got kidnapped by their enemies and here they are, so nonchalant.

But they don’t know that yet, do they?

“Where’s Neave?” Mendes asks casually.

I part my lips, “She’s–” Nothing more comes out. I am choked by tears. I manage a few more words: “She has been– I can’t.” I say and lift my face to the sky for air. My eyes return to look at Mendes, who has now adopted a distressed expression. He opens the car door and at this point, I lose feeling in my legs and tumble to the floor, with my back to the side of the car.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Mendes says ignorantly.

“No, it’s not!” I spit back. “It’s not. She’s been taken!” I say as my fractured voice rises into a yell. “It’s not– okay. She’s been taken away. They have her, Mendes!”

He is quiet. My tears almost stop. “Who got taken? Neave got taken into custody?” He asks, sounding grave.

“No. She was dragged back to the Bureau. They blew up the café and dragged her out there.”

“That’s bad.” Mendes says.

“Yeah it is.” I concur soberly. “We have to get her. We have to save her.”

“No. We can’t even if we wanted to.” He says frankly.

“What?” I ask. “What do you mean?”

“We can’t save her,” he says. He’s thinking of himself.

“I… Mendes! She’s your friend!” I yell at him.

“Yes, and she’d want us to be safe.”

“She’d want you to go save her, Mendes!” I yell in his face now. “Neave would want you to get her out!”

“Oliver! We can’t save her,” He yells back.

“And why is that? Because you’re too much of a coward?”

“I am not a coward,” he says calmly. “I am wise. And it would be unwise to go back for her.”

“No– You know, Mendes, she’s more willing to stay here for you– her friends– than to come away with me.” I say. It breaks my heart that she would martyr herself for those who do not care.

“She would. She would, wouldn’t she?”

“She would. And her friends won’t even think of going back to save her,” I say, more to guilt him into helping.

“Oliver.” He says hopelessly, “It wouldn’t be wise to risk our lives for hers.”

When he says that, I immediately act out of rage and plant a heavy punch. In front of a police station, I hit Mendes right on his nose and he loses his footing, slamming his back against the rented vehicle.

“Screw you, Mendes– How are you even friends? You’re so damned selfish!”

“Well forgive me if I want to live,” he says, keeping his hand to his bleeding nose.

“I will not forgive you.” I say. “Where’s Lily? Maybe she’ll help.”

“She’s in the car.” He says.

I look at him, then the car. I’m amazed she hasn’t stepped out yet.

I circle around the car from the back to the passenger side. I see her sitting there, unnaturally quiet.

“Lily,” I begin with edge in my voice as if I have a bone to pick. I am prepared for a fight. “Lily,” I repeat myself less sternly.

“Oliver,” She stops me, “Maybe Mendes is right about not going to save her,”

“Oh, so you heard everything, then.” I say, anger welling up even more fiercely.

“Listen, Oliver,” She steps out of the car. She’s dressed for the night in all black. “It’s not that we don’t want to save her, it’s that–”

“Go chop off your head.” I say rudely and walk away. “Here her two friends are, who won’t rescue her; whereas she’d do anything for you, huh?” I spit at them.

“Oliver. We want to save her, but what would that mean for us?”

“What do you mean what would it mean for you guys? It shouldn’t mean anything,” I say, tears threatening to kill me again,

“We can’t save her. She’s already dead!” Lily yells. Hearing it makes it even worse and I almost fall to the ground because of the lack of my strength.

“You don’t know that! No one knows if she’s dead unless we try to save her, Lily!” I say, my hand on my chest as if to steady myself.
“Yes she is. What– what do you think they’re doing? Experimenting on her, making her work in the kitchens for her penance? Sweeping the halls clean as punishment? They aren’t that lenient, Oliver!”

“She can’t be dead.” I refuse to acknowledge the thought.

“Oliver, in that place no one gets a second chance at life. There is only one life and it’s a life of pain and suffering and torture and death, Oliver! There is no hope for her.” Lily argues with me.

It’s hopeless. I will not listen to her, or Mendes. I don’t want to believe that. I know there is hope that she is still alive. I know she is still alive. “But we– I don’t know that.” I say hopelessly.

“We are certain of it. She’s dead, Oliver. Let her go. Get out of here while you can.”

I shake my head in disgust. “You are horrible, horrible selfish friends. She would do anything for you!”

“Stop saying that!”

“Why? So you can feel less guilty about giving your friend’s life away?”

“Oliver there is nothing we can do!” Lily’s voice shoots straight into a yell. “There is nothing we can do to save her– We’d be killing ourselves.”

“But you can’t die! You can save her just with that perk of immortality!” I shout back. I shut her up with those words. “You just don’t want to.”

“Oliver,” Mendes speaks up. I almost forgot he was there due to my and Lily’s heated dispute.

“Don’t say my damn name– I forbid you!” I say childishly. My words come out like a pistol, a clear shot. He hits his hands on his head, throws his hands in the air in surrender and turns, facing the station.

“You’re in love.” Says Lily, out of the blue.

“I need her. I am not just in love.”

“Did you ever think that maybe love is overrated… and pointless?”

I feel fire within me. I seriously just want to wrap my hands around her neck. “Yeah.” I say, upbeat, “Yes, I used to. Until I met her, Lily. Until I met Neave, no one else mattered.” I say. “I guess you just won’t understand, will you?” I say, my eyes feral with emotion.

She doesn’t say anything, but she speaks volumes– both she and Mendes do.

“Get away while you can.” She says in a voice that is supposedly comforting.

I shake my head in distaste, “You are the worst.” I say and turn around.

“You know what? You can go screw yourselves.” I say, and head down the street, with nowhere to go.

Neave, I want to save you.

I can’t save you on my own. I really would.

Neave, I am sorry I can’t save you.

I close my eyes, hang on to the last thought of her, and let her go.

***

Tell us: Do you think Neave is dead?