“Claire, please tell me what happened. Tell me what is going on.” I handed her my hanky that I had safely tucked in my annoying strapless bra. I hoped it wasn’t too sweaty. To be honest, I don’t think she would have cared at that point.
“It was horrible!” She was trying to speak between her sobs. “I have never seen anything like it.”
“Anything like what? What, Claire?” People were trying to open the limo doors and were banging on the windows, leaving bloody handprints, crying for help. Some looked like they had huge gashes on their bodies and torn skin. I shivered. I hate blood. Then I thought, Wait, blood? It finally dawned on me.
“Claire, is that blood on you?” I got closer to her, trying to see if I was right.
“Yes!” she yelled and I jumped back. Seriously, there was no need to yell in such a confined area. “We’re going to die. All of us. Everyone.” She bent down, put her face in her hands, and sobbed some more.
“Okay, Claire, I need you to tell me what you saw,” I pleaded with her. Obviously, it was a good time to become concerned. I started stroking her hair. “Please, Claire. It’s my wedding, my family, Henry’s family and our friends. I need to know what happened so we can figure out what to do.”
Claire lifted her head and tried to gather herself as best as she could. “The pastor,” she whispered and then she paused for a second to take a breath. “He staggered to the podium. Initially, I thought he had been drinking or something. But then he lunged at Marc. He’s gone!”
Oh, my god…Marc! How could I have forgotten about him? The tears were running down her face and collecting on her chest.
Marc was Claire’s long-time beau. Keyword: was. Marc was a great guy. He was a Harvard graduate, top of his class. He was so sweet to Claire. He loved her with all his heart as she loved him with almost all of hers. I had some belief left that she was still hung up on my brother. But that is an entirely different story, meant for another time.
“He lunged at Marc? Why would he do such a thing?” I was baffled. The situation was getting weirder by the second.
“He bit him, tore out his throat.” She could barely get the words out.
I grabbed her and made her look at me. It was like pulling teeth trying to get information out of her. “Tore out his throat? Like, with his teeth?”
“Yes!” She looked like a Goth kid from the early nineties with all her mascara running down her face.
“Oh, my god,” I whispered. It finally hit me that everyone was in danger. My family, my friends, my future family were all in real danger. I couldn’t just sit there and watch the chaos that was unfolding before us. “Claire, stay here. I need to go find Henry.” I started for the door, but she grabbed me by the corset ties of my dress. I heard a tear.
“No! I will not let you go out there. Henry said to stay here and that’s what we’re doing!” Claire was pissed and crying at the same time. It was a combination that no one should fuck with, but this was me we are talking about here. “I just lost Marc and, damn it, I am not losing my best friend, as well!” My jaw dropped. Look who was wearing the bossy pants now. The ever polite and ever proper, Ms. Claire James.
I missed that day in etiquette school. She wouldn’t dare say “ass”, even while referring to a donkey. She knew all the proper table manners for all those hoity-toity restaurants, while I was happy if I didn't get the dripping grease on my shirt from a bacon cheeseburger from the local burger joint. Etiquette was so overrated.
“Really, Claire? Really?”
“Yes! You are staying here with me, just like Henry said!”
“He’s in danger! I need to find him so we can gather our families and get the fuck out of here!”
“I understand you, but you can’t. You just can’t!” Claire fell apart again, kind of like my dress was starting to after she tried to stop me from leaving the limo. I didn’t know what to do. “Please, Elaina. Stay. Stay with me. I’m so scared.”
Through the bloody windows of the limo, I saw Pastor Jones stagger out of the church, blood dripping from his mouth, and stumble down the stairs. I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. It was all in slow motion. I didn’t hear anything. All I could see was Henry running up behind him with his arm straight out like he was aiming a gun.
Wait, he had a gun? What the fuck? Where did he get a gun? With one shot, Pastor Jones’ head exploded and his body hit the sidewalk like a sack of potatoes.
I had no emotion. All I could do was stare in disbelief at the scene that was replaying in my head. It was as if I kept rewinding and pressing play. I had no idea that Claire was screaming right next to me. I wondered if Henry would go to Hell for killing a pastor. Then I felt my stomach give. I buckled over on to the limo floor and heaved. Did I mention I hate blood, guts, and anything gory?