Hell of a bargain! TWO

Death, it is said, is not supposed to be painful, and yet, for some strange reason, my head kept throbbing. Why could I sense the sights and sounds around me if I had taken my leap into blissful oblivion?
"I am in limbo.” I thought. "That is the only explanation. Neither here, nor there. I am on the waiting list of the train and any moment now, I will have the 'go ahead'; the all clear signal to move on."
Amu coughed in the distance and my senses started to refocus. "Now that’s absurd. Is Amu here too?” my subconscious pondered. Something uncomfortable was under my back and was poking into my flesh. "I am not dead.” I thought. 

I realised there was a throbbing pain in the back of my head. For a moment, everything was a strange blur, my brain was still numb from shock and even though I could sense that a wall of curious eyes were built around me, I could not bring my body to get off the ground and dust myself or even sit up. 

I closed my eyes and relived the entire scene that had unwinded nearly thirty seconds ago and suddenly my thoughts focused on my best friend. Amu! My eyes flew open and I sat up with a start. She was on the ground beside me but it seemed that she had recovered from the shock with considerable speed. It wasn't abnormal for her to be around dead bodies considering she was a final year student of forensic pathology. But it wasn't everyday that people were shot dead an inch from your face. I reached out for her hand but she gestured that I stay down. She was already on the phone informing the emergency control room calling for an ambulance and the cops. 

After a minute or two, my heart started to pound again, it was slowly dawning on me that I was a first hand witness to a murder. I looked over at where Amu sat crouched and I could see the lifeless body of the boy I had been arguing with, less than five minutes ago. He looked surprisingly calm in death; as if he had been expecting the worst. He looked defeated, but unruffled. He seemed to be saying that he had accepted this undeserved fate and made his peace with it. The buzz of voices was getting louder and I was quickly becoming aware that the crowd was increasing in volume with every passing moment.

Footsteps suddenly echoed around us and the crowd parted, a teenage boy dressed in shabby clothes came running towards us. He stopped dead at the sight of the body. Choked with emotion, the boy’s knees hit the ground; he held the body by the shoulders and started to shake him vigorously. "Please, don't die. Please, Karan.” he kept chanting. Amu scrambled to her feet and took hold of the boy's hands. The boy's face was splattered with tears, he kept up his chant, begging his dead friend to wake up, believing he was still alive. 

In the distance, we heard sirens, whether of an ambulance or of cops, I couldn't tell but they were getting nearer and I soon saw three men dressed in police uniforms descend from the car. 

Amu made the teenager sit down and hurried towards the approaching cops. She started talking to the shorter policeman while the taller cop assessed the scene with his eyes. 

Out of the blue, I was captivated. I couldn't help but stare. The man was lean but not lanky. His eyes were different, not the regular black or brown like amongst most Indians. They were a cold, frosty black, yet I could tell that these were his ‘at work’ eyes. I was guessing he was in his late twenties or early thirties judging by his facial structure. His body language radiated a no-nonsense vibe and I wasn’t sure if it was the near death experience that had made me a little intuitive, but this guy looked like the ‘neighbourhood superhero’, friendly or not, I would find out in just a bit. His subordinate walked up to him and said something in an undertone, glancing at me. He nodded and then turned his steely gaze on me. His eyes seemed to weigh the situation at hand and then with another curt nod at the cop, he walked towards me pulling out a clean, white hankie from his pockets. He got down to his knees, looking at me in the eye.

“Miss? My name is ACP Dev Mehra. Here,” he handed me the piece of cloth, “please wipe the blood splatter from your face and then, I need you to tell me what you just witnessed.”

I was baffled. I hadn't realised there were blood stains on my face. Slowly, I reached out for the hankie and dabbed at my face, feeling self conscious. 

“Can you tell me what happened?” he repeated.

I nodded.

“We will start with your name.”

“Rachna Gupta. Correspondent with India Arises.”