“Oh my God,” I said, sucking in a breath. I scooped her up by her knees and carried her to my bike. “Charlie don’t let that man follow us,” I said and he nodded.
By then, the rest of the group caught on to what was happening and circled around John Bell to prevent him from coming after us. I set a shaking Harper on the ground, started the bike then began to pull the helmet onto her head but a roar of anger came from within the circle that contained John.
Before I could even turn around, Harper yelled for me to watch out. I tossed Harper and I away from the direction she screamed and saw John barreling toward us, a crow bar in his hand. I could see Charlie, Aaron, Nat, Jared and Josiah running after him. He edged toward Harper, a crazed look in his eyes but three police officers caught on to the commotion and started running toward us. John saw this and not wanting to get caught, picked up my bike and hopped on, gunning it into the crowd around us.
Harper and I stood, staring in shock as John drunkenly tried to weave through the people but he wasn’t fast enough and the cops almost reached him. We watched. My eyes wide in disbelief, Harper’s hand covering her mouth, tears streaming down her face. John turned around to check his progress and saw that there was no way out. I expected him to slow down but instead he gunned it more and we were forced to watch him hit a woman, driving over her after she’d fallen before losing control and crashing my bike to the ground.
Panicked, we all run to the woman, laying still on the ground. One of the police officers grabs John, turning his unconscious body onto his stomach, cuffing him while he calls for an ambulance standing by. The woman was still, too still and Harper screamed when she realized the woman was dead. I bent, immediately beginning CPR. Count thirty quick compressions, breathe twice, repeat. Time seemed to flow so slowly. The woman was unresponsive but I refused to give up. It was my bike that killed her. The paramedics arrived and began where I left off. We all stood, dazed, praying she came back to life but we all knew that would never happen. The paramedics stood and called it as it was. Harper turned from me and vomited all over the pavement. I held her body up to keep her from falling. Cherry, Charlie, the band, the rest of our group, even Sam surrounded the two of us, keeping us both standing upright. I couldn’t believe how quickly the night had turned.
“He killed her!” Harper screamed at the ground, doubling over. “That woman is dead because of me!”
“No! No you don’t, Harper! Stop! Just stop it!” I screamed at her, hugging her closely. Hands came from everywhere it seemed, comforting, warm hands were placed on our shoulders, backs and heads, telling us we weren’t alone.
“Oh God!” Harper wailed. “That poor woman!”
A police officer came up to our group and we noticed that they’d already begun to tape off the scene. We were asked to step aside to give statements as they brought John to an ambulance and it drove away, sirens screaming toward the hospital.
Harper and I sat on the concrete, watching as they took pictures, pulled my bike into a police trailer, and when they were finally ready for our statements, it was almost two in the morning.
While I recounted everything that had happened, I saw two firemen hose the woman’s blood off the wide concrete driveway and couldn’t believe she was dead. While Harper gave her statement, I stood next to her, her hand in mine and watched the scene around us. Charlie came and stood quietly next to us as did Cherry.
My stomach was queasy and I felt like vomiting every five seconds. And just when I thought things couldn’t get any worse, Charlie and I noticed a man about Charlie’s age running up to the scene, screaming the name Erica over and over. Two policemen intercepted him and the man fell to his knees when he saw them hosing off the concrete.
“No!” He kept screaming over and over, his hands tucked into his body, he face red at the effort of his screaming.
I prayed that Harper couldn’t see him but when her body seized, I knew my hope was for nothing. She looked at me and tears began to stream down her cheeks. I shook my head at her, a silent ‘don’t’.
The cops told us that Harper needed to come to the station to give a written statement. Charlie and Cherry agreed to meet us there while everyone else agreed to go to Charlie’s and wait. It was in this unfortunate moment that I realized that these people were my family. They truly loved me and wanted to be there for me, to support me.
Harper and I climbed into the back of a police car and silently watched the harrowing scene around us. There’s something the lights on emergency vehicles do that make an already anxiety filled moment that much worse. As we drove to the station, the radio buzzed with static and updates on calls.
We walked up the steps to the station, Cherry and Charlie quiet citadels behind us. The station was busy despite the late hour. Phones ringing, loud booted feet stomping the linoleum floor. We sat in benches, waiting to be taken to another room. The double doors to the station opened in a rush, the wind swirling our hair as they brought a cuffed man in.
A cuffed John Bell.
He recognized us immediately.
“I told you I’d find you one day!” He screamed at Harper, struggling to get away from the officers’ grips. Instinctively, I hovered my body over hers. “You think to run from me?! I’m gonna’ to get out of here and when I do, I’m coming after you! Just wait, Harper! Just. Wait!” One of the officers yelled for him to shut up as the other violently tugged him into a nearby hall through a door labeled ‘Processing’. “I’m coming for you, Harper!” His voice echoed down the hall. “You’re mine! Never forget that!”
Cherry and I covered Harper as her body began to wrack with sobs. An officer from earlier that night named Torres signaled for me to bring Harper into a nearby office. I sat her down and pulled up a chair myself.
“I’m sorry, son, but you have your own statement to write,” Officer Torres said. He grabbed an official looking blank document and sat it in front of Harper with a pen. Another female officer sat in a desk opposite her as Officer Torres lead me out and into an adjacent office.
“I’ll be right next door, Harper. I’m not leaving you,” I said, as she reached for my hand. She nodded.
When both statements were written, we were asked to stay in touch since we didn’t have a contact number in case they needed Harper or even my testimony at the trial, if it went that far.
“What will he be charged with?” Harper asked the detective who took the statements.
“We’re not sure. Most likely vehicular manslaughter but considering the circumstances around the death,” He said, making Harper wince, “he may get second or third degree murder. We’ll let you know. Like I said, stay in touch.”
“Can he make bail?” I asked, worried about Harper more than anything.
“He can. Unless the judge decides he’s a flight risk.”
Harper began to shake beside me.
“It’s okay, Harper,” I said, rubbing the goosebumps that formed on her arms.