The Lunatics 2: Push Tumble & Fall

Monday 1:30 p.m.

He ran as fast as he could, and I followed.

I just saw what was in front of me. He didn't wear his hat, but I recognized him just the same. The back of his neck was weatherworn.

His unkempt brown hair fell behind him. He stopped just for a second and took a quick look at me to make sure I was okay, and then he ran again but this time pulled me harder. His hand squeezed mine, and it was calloused like someone who had done hard work, with a shovel maybe. There was a silver flask in his back pocket.

Gin. Whiskey. Vodka. I wondered which kind he was.

A large woman with cherry hair bumped into me, and I felt her massive skin push into my ribs. She screamed right in my ear. She looked for someone named Carmen. "Carmen! Where are you, Carmen. Carmen!" I was numb to the woman's panic. Her words felt more like vibrations than sounds.

We obstacle-coursed through the cemetery pathways. We jumped over tombstones to find the best way to the exit. His brown curls made way and buried in the middle of the back of his neck in multicolored letters like a pretty rainbow it read

H A R L A N. Back at The RedEye, I had pinned him as The Droog.

When we got to the exit gate, people accumulated as they tried to get out, but Harlan pushed us through.

"Wait," I said, trying to stop. Tears involuntarily falling down my cheeks. "They are all in there still."

"Dem who?" he asked. And his voice was strange. It had an echo to it. Something I hadn't noticed before.

"All of them. My family. My boyfriend," I said.

He ignored everything I said and pushed us through the crowd.

"Stop please," I pleaded.

But he didn't. Instead, he crossed us over to the other side of the street. He approached an army green jeep, opened the passenger door, and pushed me inside. I wanted to go back into the fire and save them, but Carelessness sank me deeper into the passenger seat assured me there was nothing I could do anyway.

He backed up so hard he hit the car behind us, and an alarm went off.

"Dammit," he said and straightened up the steering wheel.

"Leave a note," I said, and I realized how inane it sounded.

"I'm thinking de dent on de front bumper is going to be dem least of their worries, if dem even get out of there alive."

"What do you mean alive, don't say that!" I turned away from him and furiously tried opening the passenger door, but it would not open.

"What is this some serial killer proof door?" I held on to the handle, and my body pushed back and forth on the door.

"Leave it, girl," he said, "If you want out I will get you out as soon as we are on a main street away from de fire. "

I tried to remember if I had already told him my name.

"You saw how fast dat fire moved? Der two exits in dat dead farm they call a cemetery, and dat's it," he sped up. "Forget dem rest. You and I are fine."

And I wanted to get upset at his comment, but I knew he didn't mean it and if he did then he did. But he must have sensed my angst because his comfort soon followed.

"Gonna be okay," he said, and instead of pulling his hand away like you would assume some close-to-stranger person would do, Harlan kept on holding it, only to move it momentarily to turn up the music. And when Rip Reprint's Hearts on Fire came on, Silence took the seat between us. I wanted to tell Harlan how much I liked this band. It was a conversation I'd had so many times; like a tape, you replay over and over again that ends up defining who you are to the outside world. But my words never left my mouth. It wasn't that important anymore. It didn't move me.