Real knowledge is to know the extent of one's ignorance. -Confucius
The parking lot, in front of Mr. Crawford's office, is dark and silent. Drake steps out of the truck and takes a few steps.
The building explodes, sending glass into the air.
The impact knocks him several feet back.
"Drake," I yell, but the ringing in my ears muffles my voice.
Leaping from the truck, I run to his side. The sweltering heat from the building bellows and hisses as if it's a living, breathing creature. Kneeling over him, I cup his face between my hands and scream his name. He gazes at me, bewildered, and then he pulls himself to a semi-sitting position. Rolling onto his side, he stands.
"Where are you going?" I step in front of him, but he weaves to the left, brushing past me. "You can't go in there."
"
