That turned dark quickly. Instead of the high-pitched whistle I'd heard the night of the storm, it came as a low rumble that grew higher in pitch as it closed in. "It's gonna hit!" somebody shouted. I could see the other kids swaying back and forth. The dog howled as he tried to stand up. The house started to shake. Then it began to move. I thought for a minute that it had been moved on blocks and was being pulled across the landscape. The next few seconds I remember as though they had happened in a dream: the feeling of being tossed around inside the car by the earth's tremors, and then a split second of silence as though the world were holding its breath. Then the second one hit. It was a solid wall of wind that picked up everything in its path. The station wagon was slammed from the side, and the kids in it tumbled over each other, screaming. A dog was lifted off his feet and thrown into the air, only to slam back to the ground. I was slammed against the front of the car, my head whacking the window so hard that I tasted blood, and I felt my ears pop. I saw a piece of the roof lift off and bounce down on the road, shattering like an egg. An instant later came the third explosion. This one was small in the grand scheme of things, but as it ripped through the car, it lifted us onto our side like a giant hand swatting a fly, and hurled us backward onto the pavement. For a split second, I could see the other car through the windshield, its doors open. The man inside was bent over trying to cover his ears. His truck was still on the road and then it lifted up off the ground as though drawn by the earth's magnetic force, its rear end still rising up as though I was watching the slow movement of an ocean wave. And then it tilted up and over. I could see a man on his hands and knees in the bed of the truck, frantically trying to get a hold of something that I guess he thought would save him. But it didn't work. Not for him. He pitched into the air and flew through the air, and I saw him slam onto the pavement with such force that I expected to hear his backbones snap. In an instant, he was hurled back onto the road. He landed, rolled over, and lay still, not moving. The next thing I knew the air was thick with smoke. It was hard to breathe. The woman in the station wagon was crying. "My babies! My babies!" she screamed. Then she screamed, "Help! Help! Help!" I felt a sense of helplessness that I had never felt before. I saw one of the other kids, a girl, reach over and try to open the back door of the car. A gust of wind tore at the door, almost snatching it from her hand. Then, in another burst of wind, the car was flipped over onto its top. There was a moment of terrible stillness, and then the wind came. It was so strong that it whipped the door off its hinges and sent it flying into the ditch. I saw some pieces of the car flying into the air, and then it was whisked away by the wind. It felt as though the world were being torn apart, and I was part of it. I didn't feel scared. I felt like everything was being set free. A moment later the force of the wind stopped, and my ears started to pop. As the car began to right itself, one of the boys got to his feet. "Is everybody okay?" he asked. "Not me," I said. "Me, either," one of the girls said. She was crying. "There's nobody alive out there," a second boy said. "I looked." "Then why is the car rocking like that?" I said. He shrugged. "I don't know." "Well, how come they left it here?" I asked. "I don't know," he said. "What is it?" a third girl asked. "Is it a bomb?" a fourth girl said. "You don't suppose it was a bomb?" "I don't know," the first boy said. "Let's go see." "You can't do that," I said. "What if it's a bomb?" "Then we'll see it in another second, I guess," he said, and then we began to move. The ride back was pretty much a repeat of the first trip. When we got to the corner we looked down at the spot where the other car had been. They say there was nothing left except for a scattering of small remnants that seemed to be the scattered contents of an entire kitchen, including a few cups and an espresso pot. One of the biggest chunks of the wreckage was a piece of the windshield. It lay in the dirt and rocks like a huge jewel. I held it up in the light. It was white, shiny, and smooth, like glass, but it seemed to be shapeless. There was a big crack in it, and I saw a tear drop of blood slide down the side. "What happened to the dog?" I asked. "What happened to the dog?" the same girl said. "Didn't you see the dog?" "I didn't see anything. They hit us so quick. The car started rocking. The dog and I were thrown into a ditch. Then the car flipped over. The wind came and carried the car away." I looked over at the dog, and he lay on his side, his leg tucked under him. He looked so small on the ground. "It's hard to find good help these days, isn't it?" the boy said. "Hard to find anybody," the girl said. The dog began to whine. "He hurt his leg," the boy said. We went back to the car. "Do you want to go back and see the house?" the boy asked. "It's too late," I said. "Besides, what would we do? We can't go searching for them. They left us there." I was still holding the piece of glass. I looked at it again. It had a crack in the bottom. I reached over and picked it up. "Put that down," the boy said. "It might be dangerous." I looked at it. I thought about it. "My dog is hurt," I said. "Oh," he said. "He probably broke his leg, didn't he?" "How do you know?" I said. "Oh, he can tell," the girl said. "He knows." "Can you tell if it's a dog's leg?" I said. "I don't know," the boy said. "Look, I'll let him get some rest. You can have a ride with us, but that's all." "No. I'll go back with him. I want to know if he needs a vet. We'll go back to my house," I said. "You take him to my house." I felt strange, almost as though I was being guided by the glass, and it was taking me back to the farm. "Okay," the boy said. He picked up the pup, and we walked off. I had my back to him and could feel his eyes watching me. When we got to the side of the road, we started toward the car, and I almost turned back. It was a long way to the farm, and they might not be expecting me. But I decided to risk it, and went on with them. As we turned up the road and started back, I felt strange again. I was afraid, but at the same time I felt strange. It's hard to explain. I almost turned and ran, but I didn't. I guess I just didn't want to go back without knowing what had happened. We were almost to the house when the dog started to whimper. I could see that his leg was broken and the man looked in the car and shouted, "Go inside!" I told the man what had happened to his dog, and he nodded his head. We walked over to the garage. It was empty. There were pieces of wreckage in the yard, and I figured they must have been blown there by the wind. I got inside. There were two dogs lying there, one of them dead. The room was covered with glass. It seemed that someone had flung the glass