It feels like we’ve been driving for weeks, but it couldn’t be more than twelve or thirteen hours; if it weren’t for all these stops we’d have arrived by now. I still can’t believe what happened; seriously, how could that happen to us – with all the technology we have, with all the smart minds in this country, and the world? It seems like ages ago, like a distant memory – no, it’s more like a movie…or a dream that seemed so real but you can‘t quite remember. But it did happen – and only five days ago. Wow! It’s still incredible to me. I can’t believe this happened!

“Honey, will you turn up the radio, I want to hear what they’re saying.”

“Huh…what – oh…yeah sure.”

…SCIENTISTS NOW BELIEVE THAT THE ASTEROID SPLIT INTO SEVERAL PIECES EVEN BEFORE REACHING EARTH‘S ATMOSPHERE. THIS DIVISION CAUSED THE ASTEROID’S RAVAGING EFFECTS TO BRANCH OUT ACROSS THE GLOBE. THEN THESE FRAGMENTS AGAIN BROKE APART AS THEY HIT OUR ATMOSPHERE CAUSING THE DEBRIS TO UNFURL ITS DESTRUCTIVE TENTACLES WORLDWIDE. THE WHITE HOUSE STATES THIS AS THE REASON SO MANY COUNTRIES WERE AFFLICTED WITH SUCH DEVASTATION…

I didn’t even see it. My town was unaffected, I saw some videos on the news, however, they were all choppy and out of focus. No bright lights, no screaming rocks shattering the earth…nothing. I was looking at the sky, I was ready, waiting, like a child on Christmas Eve; with something so big and devastating you would think that I would have at least seen a bright light off in the distance or an explosion on the horizon. But nothing, just an empty sky and horrific news reports. With Columbus, even Cincinnati destroyed, and so close, you would think that I would’ve seen something. Anything.

“What if New York is full too? What then? What if we can‘t get into this city either? I told you we should‘ve left sooner. Why did we have to wait four days before I could convince you to leave? You’re too stubborn – I should‘ve just left without you.”

“Well, if New York City is full then we try Boston or Manchester. The government‘s not just going to leave us to the wolves. We’ll find our haven Mary; you‘ll see – we‘ll be just fine.”

Really, those who died in the blast were the lucky ones. They don‘t have to deal with any of this nonsense. They didn‘t have to pack up and leave everything they know behind and begin their quest for a new home. And if this drive or the cities we passed are any indication of what‘s to come, things are not getting easier anytime soon. I knew we should‘ve lived in Newark or Lancaster, I could‘ve sat on the back patio and watched as I went out in style. But no, my wife had to live by her family; like she couldn’t do without seeing them everyday.

…THE BIGGEST PORTION SEEMS TO HAVE BEEN FOCUSED OVER AFRICA. EARLY ESTIMATES REPORT THAT MANY PLACES ON THE CONTINENT WERE HIT WITH BLASTS EQUIVALENT TO THAT OF A FIFTY MEGATON WARHEAD, SIMILAR TO THE INFAMOUS TSAR BOMB. WITNESSES AS FAR AS SEVILLE SPAIN SAW THE EFFECTS OF THE IMPACT THAT HIT EAST OF CASABLANCA IN MOROCCO. WHILE MOST OF THE IMPACTS IN OUR OWN COUNTRY WERE MUCH SMALLER; AND OUR HEARTS STILL GO OUT TO ALL THOSE AFFECTED ABROAD – WE WERE NOT SPARED FROM THE DEVASTATION. THE PRESIDENT HAS ORDERED ALL SURVIVORS IN THE U.S. TO MIGRATE TO THE HAVEN CITIES THAT THE GOVERNMENT HAS SET UP FOR AIDE AND MEDICAL ATTENTION. WITH THIS TRAGEDY SO WIDESPREAD IT IS IMPOSSIBLE FOR AIDE TO BE BROUGHT AROUND TO ALL THOSE WHO ARE IN NEED, THAT IS WHY IT IS SO IMPORTANT TO GET TO A HAVEN CITY IF YOU HAVE THE ABILITY. IF RESOURCES ALLOW, THE GOVERNMENT WILL START SENDING AIDE TO OTHER CITIES AND TOWNS BUT REPORTS SAY THAT THIS AIDE COULD BE WEEKS OR MONTHS AWAY…

There are some more refugees, without a car, just ambling along like so many homeless, hoping to find their way to one of the Haven cities. It seems like we stop every few minutes to pick up more stragglers. Sometimes I wish we could just leave them and finish our journey to New York; I don’t know if we’ll ever arrive at our destination with the constant stops . But how could we be so callous; just look at them, so helpless, so feeble, without any real supplies or even possessions – they might never make it. No! Why do we have more of a right to survive, just because fate determined that our vehicles weren’t destroyed, because we still had standing gas stations and food markets to stock up on before the long journey. Just look at them; how much they must have suffered – they look terrible.

“Oh Honey, there’s more…they don’t look very good at all. We have enough room in here and many of the others in our caravan are filled to the limit. I know we’re carrying most of the supplies but I’m sure we can find room. Pull up behind the Mackey’s van and I‘ll get some sandwiches and water ready.”

…AS SCIENTISTS ARE STILL TRYING TO DECIPHER ALL THE POSSIBLE RAMIFICATIONS OF THE ASTEROID‘S IMPACT AND ANY POTENTIAL LONG-TERM EFFECTS. FOR NOW, ALL THOSE WHO HAVE SYMPTOMS OF RADIATION POISONING ARE ASKED TO REPORT TO A DECONTAMINATION FACILITY IMMEDIATELY FOR MEDICAL TREATMENT. BECAUSE RESOURCES ARE SCARCE THESE HUBS WILL MAKE THEIR BEST EFFORTS TO GET EVERYONE TREATED IN A TIMELY MANNER, BUT PRIORITY IS BEING GIVEN TO THOSE WHO CAN RECOVER MOST QUICKLY AND HELP IN THE RECONSTRUCTION EFFORTS. HOWEVER, PLEASE REMEMBER THAT ANYONE SHOWING SYMPTOMS IS ASKED TO REPORT FOR DECONTAMINATION TO THE NEAREST FACILITY. YOU CAN FIND THESE LOCATIONS BY…

“Hi there, I‘m Mary and this is my husband Steve. Are you heading for New York City too? Well if you want a ride we can fit you in the back of our truck, there‘s no seats but the topper will give you some shelter from the wind and dust. There are some blankets in the back too and here’s something for you to eat and drink. You guys look like your starving. What did you say your name was?”

Wow, they don’t look well at all. I can’t believe they’re still standing, let alone walking. How far have they come? What have they been through? Look at that kid tear through the sandwich in his tiny paws and his little sister drinking the water like her lips are glued to the bottle. I can’t imagine to have experienced what they have – to have seen the destruction, to have so many friends and family affected by this tragedy. Forget it, I’m glad I didn’t see any piece of that asteroid; we were so lucky not to have witnessed that – to be far enough away that it doesn’t seem real. But seeing them…wow…it was real. It did really happen. We’ve picked up plenty of stragglers along the way but none as destitute as these. And two of them have even lost their sight; I wonder how close they were to an impact zone for that to occur? I am so lucky I didn’t see that horrible rock tumble to the earth – unbelievable – and to imagine I was looking for it.

“There we go! With the back window open it doesn’t feel so lonely back there – and now we have a chance to get to know each other. Steve and I are from Canton, Ohio. Where is your lovely family from, Loraine?”

“We’re from Athens, in Virginia. There was a huge blast south of us, in Richmond; I didn‘t see it, I only saw the huge cloud of smoke afterward – but the sound was deafening. And the dust in the air afterwards – we could barely breath. Poor Tommy and Lily here were unfortunate enough to see the impact and…well you can see what it’s done to them. Their brother and sister have been a big help but it’s still an adjustment for everyone. We can only hope it‘s not permanent, but…”

“Don’t worry Loraine, I‘m sure the doctors can help them once we get to New York. I can‘t believe how fast the government got these Haven cities set up. It just goes to show what a great job they do for their citizens. Aren’t we so lucky to have such an amazing government that will take care of us?”

…AND THE PRESIDENT IS ADDRESSING THE PEOPLE NOW; WE’LL LISTEN IN ON WHAT HE HAS TO SAY, “…AND I HAVEN‘T ASKED MUCH OF YOU UP TO THIS POINT, BUT I‘M GOING TO NEED YOUR HELP NOW IF WE ARE GOING TO MAKE OUR NATION STRONG AGAIN. IT‘S GOING TO TAKE EACH AND EVERY ONE OF YOU IF WE HOPE TO OVERCOME THESE TRAGEDIES THAT WERE IMPOSED UPON US. I KNOW IT‘S GOING TO BE HARD, SACRIFICES WILL HAVE TO BE MADE; BY ALL OF US, I‘M MAKING SACRIFICES TOO – BUT IF WE COME TOGETHER WE WILL MAKE IT THROUGH THIS. NOW, OF COURSE YOU KNOW, WE CAN‘T DO THIS ON OUR OWN. WE‘RE GOING TO HAVE TO BAND TOGETHER WITH THE OTHER NATIONS OF THE WORLD; NOT QUIBBLE OVER POLITICS AND SEMANTICS – AND DO WHAT IS NECESSARY TO OVERCOME THIS CRISIS. NOW AS I SAID, THERE’S GOING TO BE SOME INITIAL SACRIFICES, BUT I‘M SURE YOU‘LL COME TO SEE…

It shouldn’t be long now, we’re almost there. I wonder what it’s gonna look like inside; so many people gathered in one place – it’s got to be better than what we saw at Pittsburgh or Philly. So chaotic, so many people, but yet it still seemed rather orderly. The military had everything running smoothly as if they’d been trained for just this purpose. But they were filled past capacity, neither city was taking anymore people. It’s like a sick game of musical chairs, where the winners are crammed into over packed cities and the losers are cast off hoping to find a chair that hasn’t yet been filled. I can see the cityscape now; traffic is getting pretty thick – it looks like they’re funneling everyone into different areas. This may take a while, but at least it doesn’t look like they’re turning people away just yet.

“Why’d you turn off the radio Honey? I wanted to hear what the President had to say.”

“Sorry Mary, I have to hear this. I think that soldier’s saying something.”

“I’m sick of watching the news. TURN IT OFF!”

Who needs to be constantly reminded of their impending death anyway. It’s not bad enough that we’re all gonna die but they have to keep reminding us.

…CANNOT EXPLAIN WHY THEY DIDN‘T SEE IT SOONER. ONE ASTRONOMER COMMENTED THAT IT IS A BIG AREA TO COVER AND THEY SIMPLY DO NOT HAVE THE RESOURCES TO KEEP TABS ON THE ENTIRE…

“I said turn that off that damn TV!”

Can’t they talk about sports or politics – isn’t there a war going on somewhere or some natural disaster to dissect in a way that only the local news can? Hell, right now, I’d even take a story about a retriever whose best friends with a duck; but no, they won’t show anything else – they just continue to tell us how we will die.

…SCIENTISTS SAY THAT IF IT GETS THAT CLOSE A MISSILE CANNOT BE USED TO BLOW IT UP OR IT WOULD SPREAD DEBRIS WORLDWIDE. THIS IS WHAT IT MAY LOOK LIKE IF THAT WERE TO HAPPEN…

“Why do you keep doing this to yourself? To Me? Don’t you have a sitcom to watch – or some stupid TV drama? Isn’t Desperate Housewives on? Change the channel; anything else, PLEASE!”

What are your ratings gonna matter if were all dead anyway? Aren’t you scared as well – why do you still have that cheesy grin on your face? How can you look so smug and self-satisfied when your destined to share the same fate of us all? Please just talk about something else. At least stop showing me what my death might look like. It will be here soon enough stop telling me!

…THE PRESIDENT SAID AT HIS NEWS CONFERENCE EARLIER THIS AFTERNOON. HE WENT ON TO SAY THAT FOOD AND SUPPLIES WILL BE DELIVERED TO ANY AFFECTED AREAS WITHIN TWENTY FOUR HOURS OF THE IMPACT. WHEN ASKED, ‘DID HE BELIEVE THERE WOULD BE ANYONE LEFT TO DELIVER AIDE OR EVEN PEOPLE TO HELP’ – HE RESPONDED, “I FEEL CONFIDENT IN THE STRATEGIES WE HAVE IN PLACE. WHILE THERE MAY BE THOSE WHO ARE NOT SO FORTUNATE…

“Why haven’t you turned this off yet?!”

Why do you look so confident? You should be pouring sweat as if in a tropical rain forest, with your suit jacket off, tie loosened and sleeves rolled up – frazzled hair and bags under your eyes – but your clothes are still neatly pressed and your face is as dry as the Sahara and as stoic as a statue. You’re the leader of the free world and you have never faced a bigger crisis than this, but you look so fearless. The twinkle in your eye says that everything will be OK, but you know that’s not the case. How can you be so calm?

…HAVE THE BRIGHTEST MINDS WORKING ON THE SITUATION; I FULLY TRUST AND SUPPORT THE CONCLUSIONS THEY HAVE COME TO. WE ARE WORKING HARD TO SOLVE THIS DIFFICULT ISSUE – WHICH WE DIDN‘T EVEN CREATE – SO PLEASE BE PATIENT AND REST ASSURED…

“I think I see it. Turn off the news and get over here. Come look at this. Is that it? I thought it would be brighter – that’s definitely it – we don’t have much time. Should we pray? Should we run? Should we go to the bedroom? Will you turn that off and get over here? Are you listening to me?! Here, come look through my binoculars – you have to see this.”

This is it; it’s really happening – I can’t believe it, I must be dreaming. This is some nightmare – there’s no way this is real. But it is; I can see it – this is actually happening. I thought it would be more spectacular, a flaming phoenix tumbling to the earth; bright, with all the fantastic colors of a rainbow, licked with flames – crashing to earth as its life burns out, with great destruction to begin anew. But it’s so plain, so simple, just long and cylindrical – not colorful or spectacular at all. It’s just a silver rock with the front scorched red from the atmospheric entry. Where are all the fireworks? If this is the way it has to end I thought I would at least get the satisfaction of a breathtaking show – one that puts to shame any firework display on the 4th of July or any war that‘s ever been witnessed. Shouldn’t it have debris flying alongside it? It just looks like one solid chunk chased by a flame.

…AS THE TIME DRAWS NEARER WE WANT TO REMIND YOU TO HAVE YOUR WINDOWS BOARDED UP AND BUNKER DOWN IN YOUR BASEMENTS. REMEMBER THE PRESIDENT’S WARNINGS TO STAY IN THE SAFETY OF YOUR HOMES AND STAY OFF THE STREETS, AS THAT WILL GIVE YOU THE BEST CHANCE OF SURVIVAL BOTH DURING AND AFTER IMPACT. WAIT FOR HELP AND…

“Come here, come look at this. Are you just going to sit there forever? You have to check this out. It‘s getting closer – it‘s almost here!”

Wow, if I didn’t know any better I’d say there were letters on the flaming bullet. It almost looks like it says…no, there’s no way. How could an asteroid floating around space for billions of years have writing on it? But it almost seems like…those three letters…I could swear! But no, it’s just my imagination; the silly ideas of a dead man. WAIT! Is that…

…AND ONCE THE ASTEROID ENTERED EARTH’S ATMOSPHERE IT BROKE UP INTO HUNDREDS OF PIECES. THIS DEBRIS SPREAD OVER A MYRIAD OF CITIES THROUGHOUT THE WORLD DESTROYING EVERYTHING IN ITS WAKE. WHILE THE DEVASTATION OF THE ASTEROID’S IMPACT WASN’T THE PLANET KILLER THAT WAS FEARED, LOSSES ARE STILL UNFATHOMABLE. EARLY INDICATIONS ARE THAT FORTY TO FIFTY PERCENT OF THE WORLD’S POPULATION…

If the MPAA were to rate Rick Kirby’s life, it would receive a simple ‘G.’  Good clean fun.  Get the kids.  Grossly uninteresting.  No use of drugs or alcohol, no violence or crude language.  Considering his age, most would think there should be a healthy amount of teen partying or sexual content.  Twenty-two year old Rick Kirby would be the first to tell you: no sexual content as of yet.  He was hopeful for the possibility evolving in the future of his story, but it felt unlikely.

The majority of the time Rick didn’t mind.  He liked G-rated kiddy films.  The colors and the music.  An uplifting, inspiring story.  He had shelves of old fairy tales on DVD.  Most of the time Rick’s G-rated fairy tale world suited him fine.  Occasionally he wished for an epic adventure, martial arts flick, or cheesy romance.  Maybe even something carnal, queued up from cyberspace, but that thought really didn’t sit quite right.

Rick was sitting alone at a small table, enjoying his morning coffee and scone.  Typically he didn’t splurge on scones.  Scones don’t do for the body what one who is looking to add sexual content to their rating wants food to do for the body.  Today he’d woken up to find his roommate had taken the last of the milk, which meant no cereal and no breakfast.  When he ordered he had figured it was just one scone.

Of course, as soon as he sat down, his favorite barista popped through the doors behind the counter, tying an apron around a perfectly slim waist.  Rick was now trying to eat his breakfast scone as carefully as possible.  Crumbs determined to stick to his sweater, Rick quickly wiped his mouth and exchanged a shy smile with his barista.  At least it was a pumpkin scone.  If he was going to look like a fool it might as well be with his favorite flavor.  Rick and his scone could be happy together.  They could sing songs and float lazily on a gondola down a romantically lit waterway, Rick’s rating intact.

“Would you like to try an eggnog latte?”

Rick’s barista was standing at his table with a small tray of sample drinks in hand.

“Resh leese!”  Rick’s mouth tried to talk through scone.  Swallowing too soon and too hard, Rick let out a rough cough and lowered his eyes to where his hands were cupped around the warm drink on his table.  “Yes please.”  He said clearing his throat and fidgeting with the cardboard temperature sleeve around his cup.

He couldn’t watch as the small paper cup hopped onto his table.  As soon as the barista left, Rick looked up.  He imagined that there was something flirty about the vicinity of the tiny cup to his hands.  The foam on top seemed to smile sweetly at him.  The other samples on the other tables around him didn’t seem so appealing.

Rick smiled, licking his fingertips and pressing them to a cluster of scone crumbs strewn across his pastry parchment.

Sweet.

Water poured into the streets from the rooftops above a bustling city. The roads quickly swelled with water and another rainy weekend seemed all the more likely.

She frowned and spun the chair around to face the stack of paperwork that had dominated the day, the week, her life. Still, from sixty-three floors above the lobby, how bad could a little paper work really be? A deep sigh before she scribbled a set of initials across the edge of a document. It was almost time to call it a day; 3:00 on a Friday seemed reasonable enough! Another scribbled symbol in the corner.

Long and skinny, the minutes crawled. It was barely 2:00 and she tapped her foot against the base of the chair a few times. Still raining.

The man sat in the truck, waiting. Buried deep in the alley, the rain helped keep him far from visible. No one here knew his name and he did not know theirs. He felt the anticipation rush and well up again in his gut. He wondered, how fast, how hard can the human heart really beat? He twisted and turned in the driver’s seat seeking comfort, but feeling overly anxious, the man stuffed a finger-tip sized pouch between his cheek and gum.

He sat.

Waiting.

Then he felt the panic melt away to opium. Warmth inside the truck, the rain was soothing. He checked the dashboard clock before closing his eyes to enhance his high.

“Not long now,” the man thought. A faded digital clock inside the truck turned from last to first. 2:00.

She clicked the desk lamp on. The pages turned bright white but she remained unimpressed and uninterested in the jargon. Reaching back, she pulled her wavy red hair out of her eyes and into a pony tail. Sliding her black-framed glasses back atop the bridge of her nose, she stared down passed her necklace, at her paperwork. It was almost time to go, and this contract had to be signed or else the wrath from the board of directors would be brewing all weekend. She didn’t agree with the company doing business in Africa, not like this, but she had been wrong too often as of late. She could sense the board was ready to snuff her completely out of the company.

On the wall, a minute hand hung barely lower than nine and her dark green eyes returned to course the remaining pages. She poised herself to bear down and finish the last bit of reading, then she would sign the company into agreement.

Flicking a cigarette into the washed out alley, the shadow inside the truck lit another one. It glowed from behind the windshield but went unnoticed. Everyone was lost in a scurry under the rain, and he knew no one was paying attention to the truck. Thirty minutes had passed and the opium still had his body buzzing and brain slow. He peeked back into the bed of the truck, at the 210 gallons of hydrogen peroxide. The man smiled because he knew the sins of the world had to be made right. He was certain of it. He stuffed two more pouches between his lips and gums and salivating, he drank it like elixir. The man felt the world dissolve around him and drip away like the rain on the windshield. He felt nothing and everything all at one time. Euphoria! 2:49.

Finger to thumb, her wrist took over and she scripted Angela Appenshaw on the dotted line below her colleagues’. A sigh of relief, she closed the folder and smiled at the face on the wall. Time to go. Her toned arms pushed the desk away and her fingers snapped the desk lamp to darkness; Angela packed her life into her messenger bag.

Her casual long strides to the elevator started a familiar trip from the executive top floor to the lobby, signifying the end of another day. Wrapping her coat around her frame, her bag dangled from her shoulder and she stared out at the rain.

“Gonna have to run for it,” she thought, and she bound into the afternoon storm on her way across the street, for coffee.

3:08, the engine revved exhaust into the alley. The man’s lips parted, the cigarette again glowed. He thought about the timing of it all. It had to be right, had to be just right or else it wouldn’t be good enough. His heart beat fast again and he felt the knot in his stomach twist a little. He had to be sure to get it right. Focused and determined, he gained control of his reality and watched the sinners hustle through the downpour, along the street.

The truck crept from behind its dumpster closer to the mouth of the alley. The man watched the cars splash through the thoroughfare. Blinking lights from towering ads above the street glowed against the wet pavement and offered another highlight to his trip. He watched a woman leap and bound through the red reflection most vibrant to him before she found cover inside a coffee house. 3:13.

“Grande double-shot-two-pump-vanilla-expresso-latte, with room,” she requested her favorite drink and handed her card over to the cashier. AA signed and returned a spoon-pen to the counter.

“Nothing like hot coffee on a rainy day!” She gave a leaving smile and waited.

Minutes passed, it seemed like an eternity! How many people were ahead of her in line? Waiting for coffee was the worst! Looking aimlessly around the coffee house, she saw signs for coffee house specials, live-music events, posters for community gatherings. Angela thought about the contract she had signed; about the millions, perhaps billions of dollars that would change hands beginning Monday morning. The company was in good. Blinking, she felt her conscious twinge when her eyes crossed the counter and landed on a picture of an African boy, taped to a coin-filled coffee can.

The boy stood on a frail frame looking back at her with the experienced eyes of a much older man. It was obvious the boy was starving, slowly dying, somehow aware of his own hopelessness, his helplessness to change. The coffee house was gathering donations to send him and others like him, in Darfur.

Angela’s conscious panged. She blinked away guilt and regret. Her brain was being trained to see child labor another way. The contract was simply the means, and in the end, her company was only posturing itself to help the kids make money. Money to buy food, shoes, and clothes. The company was helping, just like the coffee house!

Angela traded her guilt for delusion, justified regret with self-preservation, and she continued waiting for her caffeinated drug of choice to finish brewing.

The last seconds of the minute were fast blinking away on the digital clock above the radio dial. The truck was humming, everything was charged, and he was ready. He drank in more of his salvation and began weeping. He thought about his brother, about his home, about the day they came and showed him the way. Turned the boy into the man. The knot returning to his stomach, he wretched and twisted and came up wiping vomit from his lips. By Allah, he was about to sacrifice his own life for the good of the world! Death to the infidel! The holiest of holies will be eager to reward such dedication and valor. His brain remained inflamed and the taste of acid and opium coated his throat as he began to pray.

Eyes closed, his fist gripped the shifter. He pulled the dial to ‘D’ and knew there was no turning back. The engine revved and the truck lurched forward with drums of peroxide sloshing side-to-side. Like an ocean of redemption preparing to wash away the sins of Time Square, the man set out to complete his mission. Out into the rain, tires screamed before he sent the truck squalling into the street. Across six lanes of traffic, horns blared, tires squealed, the truck gathered speed while everyone either stopped or swerved. His path was being cleared! “Allahu Akbar! God is great.” 3:16.

“Angela?!” A barista appeared from behind the counter with her drink and she nearly leapt for it. Add cream, add sugar, finger to thumb, she swirled it all together.

Rotating the watch on her wrist around for a face to face, she barely caught a glimpse.

Then she heard it.

Tires squealing, horns blaring.

Searching the rain soaked window for explanations, she peered through the glass to the street and found them.

She saw it all unfolding, as though she had seen it all before in some surreal movie. She knew what was about to happen.

Wide eyed and for the first time fully aware of feeling alive, she saw the truck too late to turn, or run away. Instead, Angela squeezed her eyes shut tightly, finger to thumb, she twisted the cross on her necklace, and she prayed.

The man closed his eyes and released the wheel. Front tires banked up hard against a curb that lifted the truck from the ground. A four-wheeled beast raised to two and time stood still for everyone. Aggressive roars from an engine seeking traction gave way to shattering glass and momentary screams, the truck smashed through the big glass doors of the coffee shop.

In its final resting place, the truck was humming.

Fully charged and ready, the man pulled a cell phone from his jacket pocket and pressed ‘End.’