The roar of an engine and the screech of rubber burning gave a forewarning. A white car fishtailed around a close-by corner. The doof-doof-doof of God awful music blared out of illegally-tinted windows.
I launched into the air Super-Angel-style, grabbed Granny’s arm, and together we flew.
Feeling super-human, I yelled, “I can flyyyyyyyyy—”
Shoulder down, but holding granny aloft, I smashed into the ground and skidded across cheese grater pavement. “Bullshiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii,” I screamed and thanked God I’d worn leatherette. Too bad the vest was sleeveless.
Mid slide I slammed my arm into something hard. The crack of bone preceded my throat tearing squeal capable of shaking Brisbane. The thunderous growl of the engine and the doof-doof-doof continued up the road.
Someone yelled for help. I forced down a wave of stomach churning pain and checked the woman I’d saved. Mouth gaping, she didn’t move. Eyes, half open looked vacant.
Holy snapping-duck-shit, I’d killed her.
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