The next day we didn’t leave the house. I had managed to find
an old AM/FM radio in the basement, and we had that playing in the
kitchen, but otherwise the three of us had decided to cut ourselves
off from the rest of the world.
For now.
Dina kept her cellphone on the kitchen table, all three of us
watching it, waiting for instructions, for something from Janelle.
“Violence and mass death in Times Square today,” the radio
buzzed.
We froze.
The report continued. “Fifty people were killed in what many
believe to be a flash bomb attack in one of the most visited areas in
America. While details are scarce, authorities are not ruling out a
terrorist attack.”
My mother fell into a chair at the table. “Fifty people? All at
once?”
“We can’t be sure that it was…” My mother held up a hand,
cutting me off.
“We all saw the diner yesterday.” She shook her head. “I’m
sure that in a few minutes that they’ll report on the strange
nature of the injuries.” She glanced at Dina. “Your friend
should be telling us something, right? Giving us some kind of idea
on how to stop this?”
“I…” Dina stuttered, “I don’t know.”
As if in response, her phone lit up and began vibrating furiously.
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