​     "I can't believe it," Alison said. "They just abandoned their cars in the middle of the street."

     "Let's grab one of 'em and get on home," Cathy said.

     "That's stealing," Abby replied.

     "Today I doubt that..."

​     "The police pull us over, and God knows what they'll do."

​     Cathy got out of her own car and locked it behind her.

     "Let's at least get them out of the way," she said.

     Two other guys had the same idea. The three of them climbed behind the wheels of three abandoned cars. A fourth car had been stopped and locked shut, but, with the other cars out of the way, they'd be able to get around it.

     One of the guys, though, rather than park the car he'd climbed into, hit the gas and sped off down the street.

     What in the Hell's wrong with everybody? Cathy thought, but, really, she knew the answer. It was the fear, the fear that expanded within her even as she thought about it, that irrational fear that her and everyone around her seemed to be feeling at the exact same time.

     They got halfway home, sticking to the side streets and back roads, when Abby was suddenly so stricken with panic that she had to stop the car.

     "Mom!" This from Alison. She'd meant for her voice to come out calm and relaxed. Instead, she shouted the word almost frantically.

     "Pull over! Park your cars!" Abby barked into her phone. "We can't drive anymore!"

​     Cathy said, "You mean ​you can't..."

     "Park your cars! Get into my car with me! I need you!" 

     Abby tried calling her father again. "Where is he? He knows that this is happening. Usually, he'd be here by now."

​     Gramps didn't answer his phone.

​     "Where in the hell's my father?" Abby all but screamed.

​                                          CONTINUE