[indent][indent][indent][indent]A chain link fence was the first thing Kamina came upon after leaving the tavern.

The second was a dead body.

The pale, waterlogged thing bobbed up and down, its face submerged in the rainwater, almost as if the corpse was a kid who was very much alive and just playing a childish joke on his friends at the beach. And the body did belong a boy, from the looks of it, no older and no larger than the Simon of his memory. Kamina felt sick. He had to turn away quickly when the body neared him; he gripped hard at the fence, pressing his chest against it as the dead kid floated past. He [i]knew[/i] it wasn't Simon -- how [i]could[/i] it be? -- but his eyes still widened in terror and he swallowed against dizziness. He felt an overwhelming sense of dread all of a sudden, a looming and imminent and very [i]personal[/i] sense of danger, and he couldn't reason why.

That feeling, coupled with something about the last look he saw on the old man's face before turning away back at the tavern, instilled a new fervor into his movements. It was almost like he was [i]frantic[/i] to reach the bus station now. But his motions were completely controlled, and he wasn't trapped within the emotional [i]weakness[/i] that one would normally fall prey to while in a state of panic. Rather, he was [i]determined[/i]. A new determination to clear the storm had set into his spirit, and it was almost like the muscles of his arms and legs were engulfed in flames, even as submerged as they were under the flood. He couldn't dwell on what he saw in those old, sunken eyes, or the horrific sight he'd just seen in front of him in the water. He [i]had to move along[/i]. It was the only option.

After whipping his head to and fro and spotting no apparent pathways, nor an end to the fence, he concluded that it must go on for miles, and that the only way to get past it would be to climb over it somehow. It was a daunting task, but not impossible -- after all, he'd scaled higher heights than this, and he'd done it without batting an eyelash. But he'd have to act fast. The rain was only coming down harder, the wind only blowing stronger, faster, and Kamina didn't know how much time he had to waste before he became another piece of meat floating around in this churning, cold, murky soup.

With a grunt, he pulled himself up, higher and higher. His breathing became ragged far before he expected it to, but he wasn't gonna stop now, even for a second. Higher, higher. He took more fence between his fingers and toes, and he soon saw the top of the fence coming into view. The pounding in his head was dying down a little, probably because of the adrenaline rush, but now his chest was burning. All of a sudden, for some reason he couldn't wrap his head around, he was remembering the night before. Or rather, the last events he [i]could[/i] remember before the inevitable dark spots opened themselves up like a void, the direct penalty of consuming far too much alcohol in far too short a timespan.

He couldn't remember it all too well; he couldn't remember [i]anything[/i] too well. But he knew then and he knew now that Mami hadn't wanted him to go where he had gone last night. He didn't even know why he'd gone there himself. Maybe he just wanted to have a little fun. Maybe he just wanted to let loose for once. Maybe he didn't wanna feel gloomy and depressed, a disposition that [i]she[/i] seemed hell-bent on maintaining at all times. Maybe he wanted to not be away from friendship and affection for just one night. Not focus so much on the fact that he'd [i]died[/i] and gone to --

He reached the top of the fence, pulling himself into a stiff perch atop the thin metal bar that held the fence together. Then, he then did something dangerous, something he probably shouldn't have done. He let out a cry from the top of his lungs, and jumped into the deep water below. He figured it would be faster this way, not having to climb all the way back down again, but he definitely hadn't counted on colliding with something upon landing. 

It was a shoe. A single, empty, abandoned shoe. Small enough to belong to a female.

Part of his brain wanted to tell him that he didn't remember. It wanted to have him believe, even for just a second, that he didn't pay attention to things like the shoes a girl wore, or the impressions her arches would leave in them. But now, he held the shoe in his hand an arm's distance away from his widening eyes and he [i]knew[/i] -- he knew and he couldn't tell himself otherwise. 

This was Mami's shoe.

"No," the word slipped out of his throat, dry and cracked. "No."

He felt dazed and vulnerable. It was a feeling he hadn't felt in a long time, and most certainly hadn't expected to feel now. It was... It was just [i]impossible[/i]. Mami couldn't have been out here -- not out here. She was with the others, on the buses! She was safe, and dry -- she [i]had[/i] to be! She was smart. She wasn't like him. [i]She wouldn't go and phone it in out here like this.[/i]

"Damn it Mami," he choked on a sob. [i]Please...[/i]

The soft white shoe bent under his tightening grip, and he started swimming. How hadn't the bus station been buried, anyway, he wondered? With how deep this water was, they honestly and [i]rightfully[/i] should've taken off to safety long ago. That was when he realized. What he had seen coming out of the tavern weren't the lights of buses. There were never any buses here at all. They were cars. Dozens and dozens of cars and trucks, all with their lights on full force to try and brave the storm. And bodies. Thousands of human bodies desperately cramming into them, sinking them to the bottom of the flood with their weight. And just behind that sickening picture, a red light still shone as blindingly as he could remember it shining last night when he'd been looking up at it from below.

Oh, it would take a [i]lot[/i] more than eyes and a semi-functioning human brain to process what he'd just seen. He groaned loudly, and blacked out.[/indent][/indent][/indent][/indent]