I plunge forward, cursing my heels for slowing me down. The clenching in my stomach scrabbles its way up to my chest, my lungs, my throat until I feel like I’m being strangled.

Forgetting Copperhead and whoever else might be in there, I tunnel in on the woman with the baby. I shove my way into the inner circle. Grab her elbow. She turns and glares like I’m arresting her.

“The Swarm’s about to attack!” I scream like my lungs are strong and not in the process of shutting down.

But the woman just stares. The baby sucks his pacifier, his eyes wide at the surrounding pandemonium.

I tug her, pulling her away from the center. “Death Mob.”

A man with patchy gray scruff jumps between us. “Here?” His face turns ashen. He must be the father.

I nod. “Run!”

He steers her away, shielding the baby as they push their way through the crowd.

A small sense of victory fills me as they make their escape.

I spin, arms and elbows butting into me. Identifying the victim is impossible. Someone’s about to die and there’s no way of knowing who I’m here to save.

Clenching my teeth, I grab a weedy guy with short buzzed hair, glasses. He screams “Save the Parks” like he wants to be the loudest rioter.

“Swarm attack,” I yell. “Run!” I turn to the next person. Scream it again. Neither of them seems to care, but I refuse to quit.

Remembering my plan, I snatch the burner phone from my purse. I hit record and stick it in the air, as high as I can with no idea what I’m catching. Copperhead’s pointy chin? Spider Tattoo’s neck? The crowd jostles me. I can barely hold on. And then a blur of silky black catches my eye. It swings back and forth against a backpack with a trio of buttons.

I shove my way past protestors, crashing against them until I reach her. I spin Katie around.

“Why did you come?” I scream.

Katie’s face radiates with passion and righteousness. But her eyes widen as she looks me up and down, taking in my coat, cocktail dress, heels, until her expression becomes horrified. Her picket sign droops. “Where are you supposed to be?”

There’s no time to explain. I grab her wrist. We’re too far in, too close to the center. Protestors jostle us as I search for the edge of the mob to make our escape. After two steps, we’re pitched sideways. The crowd is growing rowdier. Someone slams into me, knocking me over. I brace myself against the cement. A shoe crushes my fingers. Another guy trips over my back, burying me beneath bodies. I scream. I can’t save Katie if I’m trampled to death.