"That was Creedence Clearwater Revival, asking the real questions with Who'll Stop The Rain.

"It breaks my heart to say this, folks, but I think the time to skip town has come and gone. Time to batten down the hatches and hope for the best, because the only souls left on the streets are either stupid, fearless, or insane. Whichever it is, they better hope God's on their side tonight.

"If you've got a basement, that's the place to be. If your basement has a basement, that's even better. The more concrete you can put between yourself and the sky, the safer you'll be.

"If you're getting scared, brothers and sisters, you're not the only one. If you weren't able to make it out, I want you to know you're not alone. And if there was ever a time for some positive vibes, this is it. Here's one of my favorite songs for when things are looking dark, Touch Of Grey from The Grateful Dead.

"This is Weatherman Cliff - still live, still alive, and right here with you for as long as I can be."

Yeah, it still sucks out here.

I follow behind Warren and Bob the Fisherman (or whatever the hell his name is) for a short way, keeping as much distance as I can from the scorching heat and melting-plastic stink coming off what's left of the diner. I can't fucking believe how close that was. If I'd gone inside just a little later or bothered to argue with that dumbass cook, I'd probably be dead. Just a minute difference between me and extra-crispy Taylor.

Yeah, I'm gonna go ahead and not think about that either.

Rushing past the fire, I'm squeezing my way between a flipped car and a piece of broken roof when I hear the sound of an engine over the wind. Whatever the hell it is, it sounds huge.

Moving a little faster, I come out the other side just in time to watch the biggest tow truck I've ever seen ram an overturned SUV right off the road. The huge metal scoop it's got mounted on the front easily pushes the smaller vehicle up onto the sidewalk. In the light of one of the nearby fires, I see the words 'Tillamook County Public Works' written on the side.

It backs up to take another run, revealing Bowers and Evan standing on the other side. They're both filthy and soaked to the bone, yet somehow they look like they're having the time of their lives.

"Woo-hoo!" Evan shouts, pumping his fists in the air. "Hell yeah, Floyd!"

"Fuckin' right!" Bowers hollers beside him. "Wreck that shit!"

Coming to a stop, the trucker (Floyd, I guess?) lowers the scoop again and revs the engine like he's in a demolition derby or something. Noticing me standing out in the rain, he grins, tips the brim of his hat, then floors it. A few seconds later, the back half of a small fishing boat is off the road and most of the way inside the remains of some kitschy candle shop.

Okay, even I can admit that was pretty cool.

"Bowers!" I shout over the wind, waving my arms as Floyd backs up again. "Bowers!"

Spotting me, he slaps Evan on the arm and the two of them come running over. "You get that girl out okay?!"

I nod, one arm held up to block the pelting rain. "And six more out of the diner! How's it going out here?!"

"Pretty good!" Evan points to the much-clearer road. "We just have to move a couple more cars out of the way. Then Floyd can use the snowplow..."

"Dozer blade!" Bowers corrects. I get the feeling it isn't the first time.

"Whatever!" Evan fires back, rolling his eyes. "Anyway, once those are moved, we're going to hook the towing cable up to the big truck over there!" He points to the truck laying on its side, right in front of where our bus is stopped. "Then we're going to drag it through while you drive along behind it! It's not far! Just a few hundred feet before the roads are clear! The hardest part is going to be driving past the fire. That's gonna suck!"

Bowers nods. "The dozer blade will clear most to the loose shit off the road and dragging the truck along will get the rest! That'll-"

An almighty crash cuts him off as Floyd clears another vehicle out of the road, then backs his truck up to a flipped car sitting right in the middle of the street.

"Gotta go!" Evan says, running over. Grabbing the end of a seriously big winch cable, he and Floyd move it over to the flipped car and hook it over the axle.

"Anyway," Bowers says. "We figure that'll keep you from driving over anything that could blow out the tires!"

"He can do that?! Just drag a flipped truck?!"

"That thing's a wrecker, kid! Shit like this is what it's built for!"

"Hey, Frank!" We turn to see Floyd waving at us. "Little help?!"

Bowers waves and looks back. "Me and what's-his-name will head back when we're good to go! Sound good?!"

It takes me a second to realize he's waiting for an answer. "Uh...yeah! Sounds good!"

"Alright! See you back there!"

I cannot fucking believe these people think I'm in charge.

I head back at an awkward hunched-over jog, the gusting wind doing its best to blow me off my feet. It's getting a lot worse out here. As fast as the guys are working, I think this is going to be close.

I'm about halfway there when I pause, crouched behind an overturned dumpster, and look out over the water. The storm is right on the edge of the bay now, looming over us, so close it feels like I could reach out and touch it. It's like nothing I've ever seen. Like nothing I've ever imagined.

Standing there in the rain, staring up at it, I wait for the panic to hit. For the shaking hands and the wrenching twist in my stomach. I wait for my throat to tighten, but each breath comes as easily as the one before it. My heart isn't racing, even though it's got every reason to. It's not that I'm calm; I'm definitely not calm. I'm scared to death. I don't think I've ever been so afraid in my life...but I'm handling it. I've got this under control.

"I've got this," I murmur, so quietly I can't even hear it, and suddenly I'm smiling. Then I'm laughing as I throw my arms wide, and kinda wondering whether I just went a little crazy.

"What?!" I shout. "Is this the best you can do?!"

Bolts of lightning flash across the sky and the wind is howling in my ears, but I keep laughing.

"Oh, you want a piece of me?! Come and get it, asshole!"

I burst out from my cover and sprint the rest of the way to the bus, trying not to dwell on the fact that I just challenged some kind of apocalyptic megastorm to come and kill me. Running around to the driver's door, I haul myself in and turn around to see at least five more people than I expect to. "Uh...Warren?"

"They followed us home," he says, grinning. "Can we keep 'em?"

"For fuck's sake..." I actually laugh a little, rolling my eyes. "Did you find that Carl guy?"

"They sure did!" another guy pipes up. He's kinda scruffy, wearing a hoodie and gaiters and looking pretty much exactly how I imagined. He's got kind of a nervous vibe, too, that makes me think he's a lot closer to losing it than he wants people to think he is. I know what that's like. "The kid here saved me from gettin' lit up. Kept Merv from flipping the breakers and electrocutin' my ass."

"Damn. Good catch, Graham." He just shrugs, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck. "How's everyone else doing?"

"Okay, mostly." He shrugs. "Cold and wet. Scared, too. A few cuts and scrapes, but Alyssa took care of those."

I look past him to see Alyssa speaking softly to a little girl who looks like about seven years old as she wraps a white gauze bandage around the kid's shin. Thinking back, I can't remember the last time I saw Alyssa smile like that.

"How're things up ahead?" Warren continues. "Is the road clear?"

"Almost," I murmur. "Gimme a second."

Moving down the tightly packed middle aisle, I try not to step on anyone as I make my way to the back where Mom is. She's looking pretty pale, but someone's draped a coat over her to keep her warm. She turns her head toward me a little stiffly and my heart clenches at the pain in her eyes. Despite the tears streaming down her face, she still smiles when she sees me.

"Hey there, sweetheart," she says between ragged breaths.

"Hey, Mom." I kneel down, taking her hand. "How're you doing?"

"Little...uncomfortable." She tries to shrug and lets out a pained hiss.

"Your mother's tough as nails, young lady," Douglas comments from his place next to her. "I've seen Marines half her age with less grit."

"Flatterer," Mom laughs, wincing as she looks back to me. "Everything okay?"

"Uh, yeah." I nod. "I mean, okay-ish, considering. I'm handling it."

"Good girl." She gives my hand a little squeeze before letting go. "I'm so proud of you. But I'll be fine. You get going."

"But..." I glance over my shoulder. I don't want to leave my mom in pain.

"Go on, hon," Jillian says. "We'll take care of her."

"Right. Okay." I swallow heavily, standing back up. "Make sure everyone is ready to move."

I pause to check on Kate on my way back to the front. She has a few other people gathered around her, their hands clasped together, heads bowed as she softly leads them in prayer. Alice's backpack is still tucked safely in her lap, and there's an almost-tangible feeling of strength and comfort radiating from her. She glances up to give me a warm smile as I pass by, and I silently resolve to never make fun of her beliefs again.

Brooke is looking a lot better than the last time I saw her. She's still wrapped in a blanket, but her cheeks have some color in them now and I get the feeling that she isn't just huddled under Warren's arm for the warmth. Bowers' dog is sitting next to them, his head resting on Brooke's knee, his tail wagging as she softly scratches his ears.

Dropping back into the driver's seat, I try to keep my knee from bouncing nervously. I'm ready to get out of here, and the way the wind keeps rocking the bus from side to side definitely isn't doing anything for my patience. Who knows how much worse it'd be if we didn't have a couple of buildings shielding us from most of it. There's nothing to do but wait, though, and I force myself to stay calm - for everyone else's sake, at least.

I don't know how many agonizingly slow minutes crawl by before I finally spot Bowers making his way around the side of the flipped semi. Evan's right beside him, but he doesn't look so good. He's got one arm slung over Bowers' shoulder, the other clutching his side.

"Son of a bitch..." I hiss. Levering the door open, I stumble out to help. Warren's right behind me, and between the two of us we're able to walk Evan the rest of the way. A couple more people get out to help lift Evan inside, and he lets out a low, pained groan as they ease him into an empty seat.

I turn back to Bowers, who's panting like he sprinted the whole way here. "What happened?!"

"The wind threw a piece of junk into him. Think he might have a couple cracked ribs, but the kid's pretty tough. Stayed on his feet the whole way." Straightening up, he points back the way they came. "We got the road clear, though. Just hit the horn when you're ready for Floyd to start pulling."

"Yes! Fucking rockstars, both of you!" I shout, grinning despite the chaos around us. "Let's get the fuck outta here!"

"Fuckin' eh!"

I scramble back inside, Bowers right behind me, and I shut the door on his heels before turning to face everyone.

"Listen up! That truck in front of us is the only thing still in our way, but it won't be for long. It's going to get pulled out of the way, and we're going to follow behind. It's gonna start out slow, but I want everyone sitting down and holding on tight. As soon as we reach open road I'm flooring it!" Looking from one person to another, I still see a lot of fear and uncertainly. Hoping I sound confident, I add, "It'll be okay. I'm going to get us out of here, I promise."

Dropping into the driver's seat, I take a breath, and then lean on the horn; the overturned truck starts moving forward a few seconds later. There are actual sparks getting thrown up, and even the wind and rain can't drown out the painful screech of metal grinding against concrete. Like I guessed, it's slow at first. We're moving at what feels like a snail's pace, but gradually picking up speed. Soon we're at a walking pace, then at something close to a run, and I can hear the wrecker's engine roaring from the effort.

"Oh my god," Alyssa gasps as we pass the burning diner. "Is that a fucking whale?"

Shaking my head, I keep my eyes on the road. While the wrecker and the semi it's dragging are clearing most of the debris away, a few pieces are getting through that I need to carefully navigate around. It'd only take one to blow a tire, and if that happens we're pretty much screwed.

I can feel the heat coming through the window as we pass the inferno that used to be the town's only gas station. The fumes it's putting out make my eyes feel like they're on fire, too, but I keep them open. It's hard enough to see through the smoke, and I absolutely refuse to let this storm kill all these people just because I looked away and drove over a sharp piece of trash.

After a very, very long minute, the smoke starts to clear. Blinking, I realize there's less and less junk on the sides of the road. A few seconds after that, the flipped semi starts moving to the side to reveal the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.

Straight, open road.

"Hold on, kid. Gotta wait for Floyd."

"But he's got his tr-"

"It'd take time to unhook the wrecker," Bowers cuts me off, looking back at the really, really close storm. "And time's something we ain't got."

Gritting my teeth, I come to a stop. The winds are battering us from side to side, so much that I start to worry that they'll just knock the bus over. The rain is coming down so heavily now that I can barely see out the windshield. I can see Floyd in my right-side mirror, though, climbing down from the wrecker's door and hauling ass toward us, struggling to stay on his feet as the storm does everything it can to take him down.

I try not to look at the left-side mirror, which shows nothing but a whirling black and gray mass.

"Come on, come on..."

Bowers pulls the door open the moment Floyd is close enough, grabbing the surprised man by his shirt and hauling him inside like a piece of oversized luggage. "Pedal to the metal, kid! Let's get the hell outta here!"

I don't need to be told twice; my foot is on the floor before he's done yelling.

"That was Gimme Shelter from The Rolling Stones, and before that was Dire Straits with Brothers In Arms.

"Well folks, I've got some bad news for you. It's been real, but I'm afraid our journey together has come to an end. The winds are howlin', the walls are shakin', and I can hear the broadcast tower starting to come apart. The shelter in the basement is calling my name, so here's hoping it's tough enough to make it though.

"Goodbye, loyal listeners, and good luck. One way or another, I'll see you all on the other side.

"The time is 8:04 and this is Weatherman Cliff at Radio Free NOAA, signing off."

Our trusty bus isn't exactly a roadster, but it's still got a decent engine. And the more speed we pick up, the less storm I see in the mirror. The howling winds start to ease up, the pelting rain tapers off, and by the time we're passing through Rockaway Beach the weather outside doesn't seem much worse than any other rainy October day.

"I...I think we're okay," I say, softly, a little afraid of jinxing us. When they universe doesn't strike us down on the spot I say, louder, "I think we're clear of the storm!"

I halfway expect them to cheer or something, but what I get is more of a collective sigh as the stifling tension finally vanishes. After a minute, I hear someone softly crying, then the sound of someone else comforting them. Then a couple of people start laughing. By the time we're past Nedonna Beach, it feels like everyone in the back is talking at once.

Eventually we start seeing cops – a mix of Arcadia Bay PD, Rockaway Beach Police, Tillamook County Sheriffs, and even Oregon State Police – all trying to direct the flow of traffic. We get waved one way and another, passing cars parked along the side of the road, some with trunks full of luggage or stuff tied to their roofs. I even recognize a few of the people staring at us as we roll past.

Leaning over, I slap Bowers on the shoulder. "Want me to stop so you can make yourself scarce?"

He seems to consider it for a second, then his eyes narrow angrily. "Naw. I see someone I wanna have a word with."

Following his glare, I see a couple of familiar-looking ABPD officers. They're the assholes who usually provide a 'police presence' at Vortex Club parties and spend half their time hitting on teenage girls. "Lemme guess. Your friends from the hospital?"

"Goddamn right."

"You're not going to do something stupid, are you?"

"Sure thinkin' about it," Bowers growls, cracking his knuckles.

"Don't do it, Frank." Floyd says, reaching up to put a hand on Bowers' shoulder. "You'll just end up in cuffs, man."

"Screw 'em, son," Douglas shouts from the back. "They ain't worth it."

Bowers grunts, but he doesn't get up as we pass by the officers. What he does do is knock on the window and wave when they turn to look; the shorter cop goes white as a sheet at the sight of him.

"See that?" Floyd laughs. "That asshole knows what he did."

"I guess I can live with that."

A couple of Sheriff's Deputies wave us off the highway and into what looks like a marina parking lot. There're a bunch of ambulances around, and as soon as we stop there's a cop banging on my window. Startled, I lower it. "Uh...yeah?"

"How many injured do you have?"

"Huh?"

He frowns. "You're from Arcadia Bay Medical Centre, right?"

{Oh. Right." I completely forgot that was written on the side of the bus. "Yeah, we are."

"So? How many injured?"

"Uh..." I take a second to think back over the insanity of the last hour. Holy fuck, has it only been an hour since we left the hospital?

"Miss?"

"Shit. Sorry. We've got a forty-eight-year-old woman recovering from back surgery, an eighteen-year-old girl with a broken wrist, a woman in her sixties who's recovering from pneumonia, a guy in his late twenties who might have a concussion, an eighteen-year-old boy who's probably got a couple of cracked ribs, an eighteen-year-old girl who might have hypothermia, and...uh...I think those are the serious ones."

"Alright then." The cop nods. "You did a damn fine job getting them out. We'll take it from here." He gestures off to the side. "Pull in over there and the medics will be right over."

"Oh. Thanks. I'll...uh...do that, I guess."

"Breathe easy, miss. You made it." He smiles, reaching in to pat me on the shoulder. Then he points to a big tent set up a couple hundred feet away. "We've got breakfast laid on over there. You can link up with your people inside."

"My people?"

"The Medical Centre staff."

"Oh. I'm n-"

"Scuse me?" Bowers interrupts, leaning over. "You know if they got any baked beans going in there?"

The cop nods, giving Bowers a funny look. "Beans, bacon, hash browns. The works."

"That'll do just fine, officer." Bowers says, smiling as he pokes me in the leg. "Thank you kindly."

Fine. Whatever. I can take a hint.

"I don't get it." Leaning against the bus's fender, I watch in awe as Bowers happily digs into yet another helping of beans. It's been a little over two hours since we got here, and he has to have gone back to the food tent a half dozen times, at least. The guy must have hollow legs or something. "How can a regular person like beans that much?"

"No idea, Taylor," Warren says, sitting in the bus's open side door. "It defies explanation."

"Seriously, I think he cried a little when he took that first bite."

I keep waiting for someone to come along and tell us to move, but after the sick and injured people from the bus were unloaded and carried off to one of the waiting ambulances, everyone seemed to forget we were here. Seems like all the people around us have more important things to do. It actually gives everything a weird vibe, because if it weren't for all the activity around us, you'd never know anything had happened at all.

The storm, terrifying as it was, vanished without a trace about an hour after we got out of town, leaving nothing behind but blue skies and the shattered remains of Arcadia Bay. I can't fucking wait for the epic breakdown I'm going to have when that little fact finally hits home.

"If you say so," Alyssa laughs from her seat on the bus's hood. "I was too busy watching his dog scam bacon off of the kitchen staff. I swear, that animal is unfairly cute."

"No kidding. And speaking of unfairly cute..." I reach over to slap Warren on the shoulder and point to one of the tents. Brooke's standing there, still wrapped in a blanket. She waves shyly when Warren looks her way. "Looks like your girlfriend's feeling better."

"Oh, uh..." He blushes a little, looking down at his shoes. "She's...I mean...Brooke technically isn't my gi-"

"Hey, Warren," Alyssa interrupts. "You want some free girl advice from an actual girl?"

"...sure?"

"Shut the fuck up, go over there, give her a hug, and tell her that you're glad she's okay."

"What?"

I nod, adding. "And say she looks pretty."

"Ooh, yeah," Alyssa agrees. "Do that, too."

He hesitates, glancing between us. "...seriously?"

"Fuck's sake, Graham! Go!"

"Alright, alright!" he laughs, climbing to his feet and walking away.

"That poor boy has no idea what he's doing," Alyssa comments.

"Nope." I watch Warren as he reaches Brooke, gives her a slightly awkward hug, then says something that has her grinning like an idiot. "Fast learner, though."

"I get the feeling she'll cut him a lot of slack." Hopping down from the hood, she points to the food tent. "I'm gonna go get a muffin. Want anything?"

Shaking my head, I go back to watching the slowly passing cars for a familiar head of short, blonde, beautiful hair.

"You know," the unexpected voice startles me a bit, and I turn to see Douglas rolling up. He nods to Warren and Brooke. "That's more or less how I met my wife."

I smirk down at him. "A couple of other girls had to force you to man up and go talk to her?"

"My older sisters, actually." He nods, an amused twinkle in his eye. "So, I just got off the phone with my daughter in Tillamook. She says that they've got something to the tune of six hundred people from Arcadia Bay down there. The police officer I spoke to told me we've got just over three hundred here. And that's not even counting the other towns in the area."

So at least two-thirds of the fifteen hundred people who lived in Arcadia Bay are accounted for. That's good news, but while I'm happy to hear that, there's really only one person I care about right now.

"I thought you'd want to know," he continues. "Because I think the odds are pretty good that they got out."

"That who got out?"

He gestures to the two-lane road and the line of cars that have been slowly creeping past. "Whoever it is you've been watching for."

I guess I shouldn't be surprised. It's not like I've been very subtle about it. After making sure that Mom was in good hands, I'd taken off in search of Victoria. I'd walked up and down every row of parked cars, showing her picture to every police officer and paramedic I saw. I'd asked every single Blackwell student I came across, and it wasn't until Stella told me, irritated, that she'd already said the same thing to Warren, Alyssa, and Kate that I realized the others had been helping me look.

No one had seen her, though. Not even Courtney, who's almost as worried about her as I am. And even though my phone had a signal again, she wasn't picking up. Eventually I just came back to the bus, telling myself over and over not to worry, and I've been waiting here ever since.

"Thanks, Douglas."

"It's the least I could do." He shrugs, watching people rushing from one place to the next, then looks up at me again. "You know, I was in the Marine Corps for twenty-two years. Fought in two wars, led men in combat, and made it to Master Gunnery Sergeant before I was discharged."

"Yeah, it kinda shows," I laugh, thinking back to what had happened when we first walked into the food tent. "Gotta say, that was pretty hardcore."

We hadn't even made it to the long row of steam trays when Kate had pointed out the pair of nurses who'd left us behind. Those fucking bitches had just been sitting at one of the tables, smiling and drinking coffee with the other staff like they hadn't abandoned us to die.

I'd been absolutely ready to fucking let them have it, but I never got the chance. Douglas beat me to it, and holy fucking hell. Those assholes hadn't even had a chance to stand up before he'd unleashed a wave of verbal savagery like I've never heard. I saw a war movie once where some drill sergeant was yelling at a bunch of soldiers, and I'd thought it looked kinda intense. But compared to the real thing, up close? Forget about it.

The weird thing was, he hadn't exactly been yelling. Somehow, he'd just been talking at an alarmingly high volume, and every single devastating word had come out razor sharp and clear as a bell. The effect had been like watching a pair of deer caught in a truck's headlights. Both women froze up completely, eyes wide, shaking like the gates of hell had just opened up in front of them.

It'd been fucking epic.

Everyone else in the tent had been too shocked to do anything. No one had moved or spoken, at least until Douglas' verbal assault had moved on from him being angry, to the reason why he was angry. He'd laid the whole thing out, and one by one every gaze had shifted from him to the pair of terrified, stammering women. He kept going until a couple of state troopers had escorted the two women out of the tent so they could 'talk about what happened'.

The troopers had also very politely asked Kate if she'd be willing to provide a statement, which she was happy to do.

Legally speaking, those bitches are fucked.

"What, that?" Douglas waves vaguely at the food tent. "That's like riding a bike. You never really forget how."

"Pretty scary bike."

"I prefer to call it motivational. In any case, I only mention it so that when I say what you did during the storm was one of the finest examples of leadership I've ever seen, you know that I know what I'm talking about."

Blinking, I look down to stare at him. "Excuse me?"

"You did a hell of a job, Miss Christensen. I think we're damned lucky we had you there."

"Are you serious?"

"As a heart attack," he nods, adding, "And I've had one of those. They're pretty damn serious."

"That wasn't leadership, man. That was me somehow managing to not freak the fuck out."

"Same thing." He shrugs. "You had a goal and people following you. Shit happened, but you kept your head and reacted accordingly. You'd be amazed how many people can't even do that much." He snorts. "I've seen actual military officers – grown men with years of training – buckle under less pressure than what you dealt with today."

"But I..."

"Argue as much as you like, but the fact is that eighteen people are still alive thanks to you. And thanks to Miss Marsh, as well. What you two did was just plain heroic, and you should both be damned proud of yourselves." Releasing the brakes on his wheelchair, he pulls a slip of paper out of his pocket and hands it to me with a smile. "In any case, that's my daughter's phone number. She's very insistent about having you two over for dinner."

"Oh," I say, surprised. "Thanks."

"Not a problem." He gives me a little wink. "Take care of yourself, Miss Christensen."

"You, too," I mutter, watching him roll himself over to the food tent and strike up a conversation with Bowers. Leadership? Heroic? That guy needs to lay off the war movies. "Crazy old coot."

Turning back to the road, I cross my arms, lean against the bus's fender, and go back to intently watching every vehicle that creeps by. Traffic is still moving at a crawl, but that's fine by me. Slower cars are easier to search. I don't hear the sound of approaching footsteps, so I've got no idea anyone is there until I hear the distinct sound of a phone's camera.

Surprised, I turn to find Kate grinning at me, smartphone in hand. "Gotcha."

"What the...where'd you get that?!"

"My phone?" She looks down at it, like she's actually thinking about the answer. "It was in my pocket."

Of course it was. "You better delete that picture."

"Hmm..." She tilts her head thoughtfully. "No, I don't think I will."

"I'm serious!" I shout, laughing for some reason. "I probably look like a hobo!"

"Well, if you do, then you look like a very noble hobo," she answers primly, putting her phone away and moving to lean beside me.

"What does that even...oh, forget it." Sighing, I gesture to her properly splinted wrist. "What's the word on that?"

"Just a dislocation. Maybe a slight fracture. I'll need to get it x-rayed, but I'm okay for now." She holds it out, wiggling her fingers a little. "See?"

"Hm. Gave you some painkillers, I guess?"

Leaning in, she shyly whispers, "Just a little."

I kinda want to tease her about being a lush or something, but even though I think we're on better terms now, I'm pretty sure it's still way too soon for that. "Well, when you do get your cast, I call first dibs on signing it."

"Sure." She thinks for a second. "But no curse words, please."

"Just take all the fun out if it, why don't you?" I mutter, and she actually giggles.

"So, has there been any sign of Victoria?"

"If there was, would I still be standing here?" I answer, a little sharply. Wincing, I add, "Sorry. I'm just worried about her."

"I'm sure she'll be alright. She's..." I can practically see Kate searching for a description that doesn't include the words 'relentless bitch'. "...tenacious."

"Yeah, she is," I agree, and another brief silence passes. "Hey, you wanna hear something crazy?"

"Okay."

"I was just talking to Douglas a minute ago, and he called me a hero. Can you believe that?"

"Why is that crazy?" she asks, because of course she does.

"I'm not a hero, Kate. At most, I was just in the right place at the right time."

"Maybe that's the same thing?" she muses, adding, "I think you're a hero."

"How can you think anybody who treated you the way I did is a hero?" I can't help cringing again at the memory. "I really am sorry."

"I know." I'm super aware of the fact that she doesn't tell me it's alright. But since it wasn't, I'm sure as hell not going to say anything. One step at a time. "But you don't have to be perfect to be a hero."

"Hm." I take a second to consider that, then I add, "He said you were a hero, too." I laugh when she looks down, blushing a little. "Yeah, not so easy when the spotlight is on you, is it?"

"No," she softly admits. "But at least this spotlight isn't lonely."

"I guess not."

She yawns loudly and the two of us fall silent, watching the slow procession of cars go by.

"Y'know," I say eventually. "I always figured heroes were supposed to be brave."

"You were brave."

"I was scared shitless," I counter, shuddering a little at the memory of how the storm rolled over Arcadia Bay. Buildings flying apart like they were made of matchsticks; pieces being thrown in every direction. Even the flames from the burning gas station had been swallowed up entirely.

"I was scared, too," she reminds me. "But my father once told me that you have to be scared before you can be brave."

"Your dad sounds like a smart guy."

"He is," she agrees, smiling. "We were all scared, Taylor. But you were the one who stood up and told us everything was going to be okay."

"Yeah, and people just believed me. What the hell was that about?" I take a breath, running a hand over my face. "I'm an eighteen-year-old girl and I was surrounded by adults. Why didn't one of them take charge? Why did any of them listen to me?"

"I don't know." She shrugs. "Maybe that's just how it works sometimes."

"How what works?"

"Providence."

This time yesterday, I might have laughed at her for saying something like that. At the start of the week, I definitely would have. "You really think so?"

"I do."

"But...why me? Why either of us?"

"Mysterious ways, Taylor." Yawning again, Kate leans over to rest her head on my shoulder. "Mysterious ways."