Massive flares arced across the sky. One of the comet chunks streaked toward Bobby and Kyra then struck something on the horizon. A fireball detonated and shadows danced.
The ground quaked. Tornado sirens blared, their pitch quickly rising to a banshee wail.
Abruptly the sirens shut off as lights blinked out. Darkness and eerie calm blanketed the community.
A line of flames lit the skyline. Bobby realized that an entire neighborhood had ceased to be. Nothing could have escaped that inferno. He looked up.
The Milky Way shone with primeval brilliance. Quickly standing up, he jerked Kyra’s arm to bring her to her feet.
“Come on,” he said. She shook her head but followed as he tugged her down the walk to his car. “We need to go see.”
“Charlie,” she said, looking toward the immolated horizon.
“I know,” he said. “That part of town’s gone. Maybe it’s all gone.”
They stopped next to the car.
Kyra nodded, then tears filled her eyes. Bobby stared at her, amazed.
Even though he was a preacher, Charlie Wentworth was not a nice guy, and she’d be better off without him. That’s what she’d always said.
