Or perhaps not an attack after all. A young woman of about his own age stood above him. He squinted up into the afternoon sunshine. The sun was behind her, making her dark brown hair a crisp halo around her head.
“What the hell?” he asked, utterly bewildered, his shock overcoming his reluctance to swear.
“You could have been killed,” the woman stated. “I just saved your life.”
“From what?”
“From that,” she said, her own voice beginning to rise. She pointed across the street.
He scowled up at her. “From the bus that's twenty yards away, stopped at a red light?” Indeed, the bus-driver was staring at them, a look of mild concern on his face. He levered himself to his feet, brushing ineffectually at his slacks, which were stained with grass and dirt.
“It could have hurt you.” But the voi
