I sat on a hill overlooking the smoldering ruins of what had once been a middle-class neighborhood.

It looked like a massive tornado had just torn through the place.

Bodies littered the streets.

A woman stumbling through the rubble screamed someone's name, the sound clawing at my insides.

Staring at the scene, I went over the events of the day once again. I could find

no logic hidden in them, no reasonable explanation for what had happened. I looked down at my hands,

half expecting to see them coated in blood, but they were clean, not a scratch on them. The pancakeed

orange car at the bottom of the hill was a different

story. It was smashed to a pulp. There was blood all over the fender. Bits of hair were stuck

in the grill, twitching in the breeze. A helicopter came near, whipping dirt up into my face,

as several ropes dropped out of it. Foundation security officers slid down the ropes in full gear.

They surrounded me in a matter of seconds.

Ready to go, Doc?

Security officer Blakely asked from the doorway to my office.

I had my head in my hands, staring down at the endless pile of paperwork on my desk.

Guess so, I said.

Cheer up, will you?

Blakely said in a jovial manner that maybe want to throw something at him.

We're getting out of the office today. It's a field trip day.

I'd never known a man as old as him to be so happy all the time.

Wasn't life supposed to beat you down as you got older?

If so, Blakely hadn't gotten the memo.

...