And now the sun was back again, and the sky was clear. He wasn’t sure what the hell to make of it.
Savanna gave up on the radio, detaching the vice grips and tossing them onto the dash. They were a handy tool, those vice grips. In addition to working the radio, they could be used to yank the long-stripped key from the ignition, or to roll the knobless driver’s side window up and down.
“Nothing,” she said.
Roger tilted the can of Pepsi against his lips and emptied it, his dark hair dancing in the jetstream.
“No biggie, honey,” he said, and added, jokingly, “The President lost his patience and had Seattle nuked. That’s all.”
She switched off the radio. “Poor selection, anyway.”
He laughed and squeezed the pop can.
“Bombs away?” Savanna asked.
“Quite.”
She lifted the throw-pillow awa
