Hamburger wrappers, cigarette butts, newspapers and plastic cups swirled in a funnel cloud. People on the ground waved their arms and shouted for help, but the chopper flew on. The crowd cursed the pilot.
Charlie took a deep breath and exhaled. “I’ve been thinking.”
“What about?” I turned to him.
“That guy back there at the Thornton Mill Road overpass.”
“Tony? The one at the fire?”
“Yeah, him. I think he was lying about the skinheads. I mean, I’ve got no love for skinheads, don’t get me wrong. But it seems like anytime we need a cultural boogeyman in this country, we lay it on a group like that. Skinheads. Muslim terrorists. Satanic daycare instructors. Republicans.”
“What’s your point?” Frank asked.
“What if it wasn’t skinheads that hanged that guy? What if it was Tony and the other people that were there?”
I rubbed my tired eyes. “Come on, Charlie. You saw them. Most of that group were business people, just like us. Regular people. They’re not going to resort to vigilante justice.”
“Why not? Things have gotten real weird real quick. The mob rules, man. People have vanished, authorities aren’t around, the survivors are scared, and nobody knows what’s going on. Sounds like a recipe for disaster to me.”
A black Labrador scampered by, its nose to the ground. When Charlie called out to it, the dog ran away, tail tucked between its legs. It must have belonged to somebody because it had a bright red collar around its neck, complete with dog tags. Whimpering, it disappeared.
“I’m starting to think it’s true.” Frank scratched the back of his neck.
“What?” Charlie asked. “That regular, everyday people hung that guy?”
“No. That aliens abducted everybody. It sounds silly, but could that actually happen?”
“There’s no such things as aliens,” I said. “It’s just another bullshit rumor. They don’t exist.”
Frank gazed up at the stars. “Just like God…”
“So what’s your theory, Steve?” Charlie asked. “We’ve seen a lot more since it first happened. Where do you think Craig and all these other people went?”
We watched as a Lexus, its speakers rattling with a thudding bass line, swerved to avoid a pedestrian. The driver blew his horn. The man in the road shook his fist and shouted curses.
“I don’t know,” I admitted, after the car had passed. “But it’s not fucking aliens and it’s not the Rapture. There has to be a reasonable explanation for what’s happened.”
“Maybe the scientists did something,” Frank said.
“Which scientists?” Charlie asked.
Frank shrugged. “I don’t know. Any of them. Maybe there was some kind of accident.”
I considered the possibility—a malfunction while experimenting with stealth technology or particle acceleration or teleportation. There was supposed to be a government laboratory somewhere in Hellertown, Pennsylvania that fooled with stuff like that, but those options didn’t seem any more plausible than an invisible alien fleet abducting everybody. Not to me, at least.
We shielded our eyes against another pair of approaching headlights—the car was hugging the shoulder, rather than creeping along with the rest of the traffic. The car’s horn blared, loud and insistent. All three of us jumped up from our seat, and I almost fell over the guardrail and down the embankment. The horn grew deafening.
“Look out!” Frank shouted.
A black Volvo bore down on us, tires crunching in the gravel along the side of the road. It swerved away at the last second, weaving back into traffic.
Charlie gasped. “That motherfucker . . .”
Our friend, the yuppie from earlier in the day, rolled down his passenger-side window and flipped us his middle finger as he rolled past.
“Hey,” he laughed. “Your friend’s still back there in Timonium with a pipe through his head!”
“It’s him,” Charlie shouted, pointing. “The guy from the crash. The one that wanted to sue
Charlie took a deep breath and exhaled. “I’ve been thinking.”
“What about?” I turned to him.
“That guy back there at the Thornton Mill Road overpass.”
“Tony? The one at the fire?”
“Yeah, him. I think he was lying about the skinheads. I mean, I’ve got no love for skinheads, don’t get me wrong. But it seems like anytime we need a cultural boogeyman in this country, we lay it on a group like that. Skinheads. Muslim terrorists. Satanic daycare instructors. Republicans.”
“What’s your point?” Frank asked.
“What if it wasn’t skinheads that hanged that guy? What if it was Tony and the other people that were there?”
I rubbed my tired eyes. “Come on, Charlie. You saw them. Most of that group were business people, just like us. Regular people. They’re not going to resort to vigilante justice.”
“Why not? Things have gotten real weird real quick. The mob rules, man. People have vanished, authorities aren’t around, the survivors are scared, and nobody knows what’s going on. Sounds like a recipe for disaster to me.”
A black Labrador scampered by, its nose to the ground. When Charlie called out to it, the dog ran away, tail tucked between its legs. It must have belonged to somebody because it had a bright red collar around its neck, complete with dog tags. Whimpering, it disappeared.
“I’m starting to think it’s true.” Frank scratched the back of his neck.
“What?” Charlie asked. “That regular, everyday people hung that guy?”
“No. That aliens abducted everybody. It sounds silly, but could that actually happen?”
“There’s no such things as aliens,” I said. “It’s just another bullshit rumor. They don’t exist.”
Frank gazed up at the stars. “Just like God…”
“So what’s your theory, Steve?” Charlie asked. “We’ve seen a lot more since it first happened. Where do you think Craig and all these other people went?”
We watched as a Lexus, its speakers rattling with a thudding bass line, swerved to avoid a pedestrian. The driver blew his horn. The man in the road shook his fist and shouted curses.
“I don’t know,” I admitted, after the car had passed. “But it’s not fucking aliens and it’s not the Rapture. There has to be a reasonable explanation for what’s happened.”
“Maybe the scientists did something,” Frank said.
“Which scientists?” Charlie asked.
Frank shrugged. “I don’t know. Any of them. Maybe there was some kind of accident.”
I considered the possibility—a malfunction while experimenting with stealth technology or particle acceleration or teleportation. There was supposed to be a government laboratory somewhere in Hellertown, Pennsylvania that fooled with stuff like that, but those options didn’t seem any more plausible than an invisible alien fleet abducting everybody. Not to me, at least.
We shielded our eyes against another pair of approaching headlights—the car was hugging the shoulder, rather than creeping along with the rest of the traffic. The car’s horn blared, loud and insistent. All three of us jumped up from our seat, and I almost fell over the guardrail and down the embankment. The horn grew deafening.
“Look out!” Frank shouted.
A black Volvo bore down on us, tires crunching in the gravel along the side of the road. It swerved away at the last second, weaving back into traffic.
Charlie gasped. “That motherfucker . . .”
Our friend, the yuppie from earlier in the day, rolled down his passenger-side window and flipped us his middle finger as he rolled past.
“Hey,” he laughed. “Your friend’s still back there in Timonium with a pipe through his head!”
“It’s him,” Charlie shouted, pointing. “The guy from the crash. The one that wanted to sue
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