The lights were brighter than an entire street lined with Christmas trees. Reds and blues encompassed her as if in a club.

It wasn’t a club, though.

The first thing she was faintly aware of was the cold. Goosebumps covered her bare arms, and through a hazy ringing she could hear the chattering of her teeth.

What was going on?

“On the ground!” A man screamed. Where had it come from, though?

Cathy spun around, looking for the perpetrator. She was blinded, however, by the lights.

“I said, on the ground!” His voice was firmer now, and Cathy could see a small black object in the distance.

“Get down or I’ll shoot!”

The black object was a gun. A man standing less than fifty feet away from her was pointing it in her direction.

Fuck.

She fell to the ground so quickly that it hurt, throwing her hands behind her head and trying desperately to fight off tears.

Slowly, the scene settled for her. She was standing in the middle of I-80, surrounded by a fleet of police cars and fire trucks. A cacophony of voices and cries filled the air.

You did it again, Cathy. This time you’ve really done it.

She hoped desperately that whoever she had attacked wasn’t dead. The last one was still in the ICU, and she couldn’t live with more blood on her hands.