The scream ripped my attention away, back to the lively advertisement. The man struck, then struck again, dealing vicious backhands. With a triumphant wail of glee he lifted and threw the woman who plummetted out of the billboard towards the sidewalk below.
I screamed too, though I'm not sure it was intelligible, and I even took a step forward as I watched her descent. As if clipped by poor editing in a bad movie, her scream ceased to be and the spot on the sidewalk where she should have landed, lit by a waining streetlamp, remained empty.
My erstwhile companion just shrugged, "We should keep moving."
Thinking as fast I could think, partially to stop her cutting me off as she had a rude habit of doing, I blurted, "Keep moving? Did you even see that? You said we weren't safe in the motel, and now...and now...that!" To be honest, I didn't realize I was inching backwards as I was talking.
Something cold and menacing licked at the nape of my neck as Tsillah lunged and caught me by my shirt, "I said stay in the light."
We wound up rather close, and I could only barely squeak, "Yeah, the light." A distant thunk disturbed the quiet Vancouver night, and we both looked expectantly up the street from whence we had come. The glaring red neon sign had been extinguished, like a miniscule ember swallowed up by the sea of night. The whole motel, in fact, was submerged in darkness. One by one, the streetlamps between the motel and the two of us began to flicker and die.
Her grip tightened, and she pushed me forward, "Run. Now!"