I lay back and study the clouds, study the lights flickering deep within them. “It’s making people go away, whatever it is. It’s funny; but I got a pretty good look at that police car before it went into the pumps, and, well,” I laugh, which becomes a cough. “There was no one driving it. Like, whoever was in it had just poof, ceased to exist. Like maybe this, this time-bomb of yours, made it so he had never existed in the first place.” I roll my head to look at him; find him already looking at me. “Or maybe transported him back ... to wherever they came from. The Cretaceous Period—or whatever.” I turn back toward the sky. “Now what do you make of that?”
“Well, if that were the case, I’d say we were pretty much screwed.” I hear shuffling, as though he is digging in his vest. “People start
