us!”
“You guys need a ride?”
The Volvo inched forward, moving farther away from us.
I swallowed. “Are you serious?”
“No.” The yuppie laughed. “Fuck you.”
Then he swerved back onto the shoulder and raced up the highway, scattering other pedestrians out of his way. People hollered at him, but he kept going.
“He needs his ass kicked,” Frank sputtered. “Son of a bitch, driving up on us like that. He could have killed somebody.”
Both Frank and Charlie shook their middle fingers at the receding taillights. Then the Volvo vanished into the darkness.
“Nothing we can do about it now.” I started walking again. “Let’s move on.”
Groaning with exaggerated effort, Charlie trailed along after me. Frank stood still, staring back the way we’d come. I followed his gaze. The horizon was on fire. The city of Baltimore’s after-dark neon shimmer had been replaced with a hazy, red glow. Smoke curled into the night sky, blacker than the darkness around it.
“My God,” I whispered. “What is it?”
“The city’s on fire,” Frank said. “The whole thing.”
“Shit.”
“Yeah.”
Charlie cleared his throat. “I guess that answers our questions about how busy the authorities are.”
We stared in disbelief, watching the glow expand. Baltimore was burning, the entire city engulfed in flames. I wondered if the astronauts on the space station could see it, and if so, what else they were witnessing down here on Earth. The ones who were still onboard the space station, that was. I thought of the news report we’d heard earlier. NASA had claimed that one of them had vanished.
In the woods beyond the exit ramp, something screamed. Human or animal—I couldn’t tell which, but the sound was like nails on a chalkboard. I fought to keep from screaming myself, and whispered Terri’s name.
“Let’s get out of here,” I said.
We walked on. A blister broke on the bottom of my heel, and I felt my sock grow wet. I winced, trying to ignore the pain.
“You okay?” Charlie asked, concerned.
I nodded. “Blister. I’ll be fine.”
“I’ve said it before,” Frank panted, “and I’ll say it again: I’d kill for a cold beer right about now. Boy, would that taste good.”
“I’d settle for a cell phone that worked,” I said.
“I’d like an airplane,” Charlie quipped. “Or even a taxi. My feet hurt.”
“Mine, too,” Frank agreed. “Haven’t walked this much since I was in the Army.”
“What’d you do in the Army?” I asked, trying to get my thoughts off Terri.
“Construction,” he grunted. “Story of my life. I did four years and then got out. Wish I’d stayed in, though. Could have retired with a full pension at forty. Shit, there wasn’t anything going on at the time. Vietnam was over, and Desert Storm was a decade away. But I was stupid, I guess. The old lady wanted to get married, so I got out. Kick myself in the ass for it now, especially after we got divorced. But I was a stupid kid.”
“We were all stupid kids once,” I said.
“Yeah, and if we only knew then what we know now, right? If I’d re-upped and taken that early retirement, I could’ve been at home today, instead of walking down this fucking highway in the dark and listening to crazy people talk about God and aliens and bleeding shopping malls.”
Charlie and I both laughed, and Frank continued.
“Don’t know why I’m so damn eager to get home, anyway. It’s not like there’s a beautiful woman waiting on me. You’re lucky there, Steve.”
“I know it,” I said. “That’s what’s keeping my feet moving right now.”
“So you live alone?” Charlie asked Frank. “No kids or anything?”
He shook his head sadly. “Nope. Not even a dog. I had some fish, but the little fuckers kept dying on me. I’d buy one, put him in the tank, and a week later he’s floating upside down. My ex and I got divorced before we could have any kids. I don’t know. It never bothered me much, but the
“You guys need a ride?”
The Volvo inched forward, moving farther away from us.
I swallowed. “Are you serious?”
“No.” The yuppie laughed. “Fuck you.”
Then he swerved back onto the shoulder and raced up the highway, scattering other pedestrians out of his way. People hollered at him, but he kept going.
“He needs his ass kicked,” Frank sputtered. “Son of a bitch, driving up on us like that. He could have killed somebody.”
Both Frank and Charlie shook their middle fingers at the receding taillights. Then the Volvo vanished into the darkness.
“Nothing we can do about it now.” I started walking again. “Let’s move on.”
Groaning with exaggerated effort, Charlie trailed along after me. Frank stood still, staring back the way we’d come. I followed his gaze. The horizon was on fire. The city of Baltimore’s after-dark neon shimmer had been replaced with a hazy, red glow. Smoke curled into the night sky, blacker than the darkness around it.
“My God,” I whispered. “What is it?”
“The city’s on fire,” Frank said. “The whole thing.”
“Shit.”
“Yeah.”
Charlie cleared his throat. “I guess that answers our questions about how busy the authorities are.”
We stared in disbelief, watching the glow expand. Baltimore was burning, the entire city engulfed in flames. I wondered if the astronauts on the space station could see it, and if so, what else they were witnessing down here on Earth. The ones who were still onboard the space station, that was. I thought of the news report we’d heard earlier. NASA had claimed that one of them had vanished.
In the woods beyond the exit ramp, something screamed. Human or animal—I couldn’t tell which, but the sound was like nails on a chalkboard. I fought to keep from screaming myself, and whispered Terri’s name.
“Let’s get out of here,” I said.
We walked on. A blister broke on the bottom of my heel, and I felt my sock grow wet. I winced, trying to ignore the pain.
“You okay?” Charlie asked, concerned.
I nodded. “Blister. I’ll be fine.”
“I’ve said it before,” Frank panted, “and I’ll say it again: I’d kill for a cold beer right about now. Boy, would that taste good.”
“I’d settle for a cell phone that worked,” I said.
“I’d like an airplane,” Charlie quipped. “Or even a taxi. My feet hurt.”
“Mine, too,” Frank agreed. “Haven’t walked this much since I was in the Army.”
“What’d you do in the Army?” I asked, trying to get my thoughts off Terri.
“Construction,” he grunted. “Story of my life. I did four years and then got out. Wish I’d stayed in, though. Could have retired with a full pension at forty. Shit, there wasn’t anything going on at the time. Vietnam was over, and Desert Storm was a decade away. But I was stupid, I guess. The old lady wanted to get married, so I got out. Kick myself in the ass for it now, especially after we got divorced. But I was a stupid kid.”
“We were all stupid kids once,” I said.
“Yeah, and if we only knew then what we know now, right? If I’d re-upped and taken that early retirement, I could’ve been at home today, instead of walking down this fucking highway in the dark and listening to crazy people talk about God and aliens and bleeding shopping malls.”
Charlie and I both laughed, and Frank continued.
“Don’t know why I’m so damn eager to get home, anyway. It’s not like there’s a beautiful woman waiting on me. You’re lucky there, Steve.”
“I know it,” I said. “That’s what’s keeping my feet moving right now.”
“So you live alone?” Charlie asked Frank. “No kids or anything?”
He shook his head sadly. “Nope. Not even a dog. I had some fish, but the little fuckers kept dying on me. I’d buy one, put him in the tank, and a week later he’s floating upside down. My ex and I got divorced before we could have any kids. I don’t know. It never bothered me much, but the
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