Above the Vaulted Sky - Page 60

            ‘No!’ I shout. I stop without meaning to. My subconscious must know that all hope is lost. My muscles fail, my hand stretches out.

            The man turns, and sees the big yellow bus looming over him. I can’t tear my eyes away. It’s like watching a horror movie. Or a film that will make you cry. You want to look away, but you carry on watching.

For as long as I remember I’ve been scared of smalls spaces. The feeling of being trapped is something that closes my throat, and brings a cold sweat to my brow. Of all the things in the world, that is what I think of now, I’d feel trapped in that split second before the bus hit me. It’s how I felt when the van came spinning towards my Triumph. My fists seized, my breath stopped.

He raises his fist and clamps his thumb down on a button at its base.

Inexplicably, the bus with a terrified looking driver, does not hit the man in the moleskin jacket. It reaches him and passes on. He travels through it like he was never there in the first place.

I watch in awe as the bus travels on. What do you do in that situation? Stop the bus and look at the no body on the road. That driver would be haunted for the rest of his life. He’d think it was a hallucination. I’m not altogether convinced it wasn’t myself.

The bus doesn’t stop. I watch the rear end with bated breath but he doesn’t reappear.

My legs find the ability to move again. I stumble at first, but quickly I find the ability to run.

I cross the street, ignoring the other cars this time and find the site of the almost death. A large, round scorch mark lies on the ground, as though it’s been there forever. And in the middle, a matchbook.

I stoop and pick it up. The man is nowhere to be seen.

On the front is a sight I know well from the guidebook. Lights, water, cherubs, gods and their steeds. One of the most beautiful places in Rome.

I read the name on the back: Hotel Fontana. I have my next destination.

I turn it over in my hand and something catches my eye inside. With an unexplained note of fear gripping my throat, I open it and read words inside, written in red pen.

‘I see you.’