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of the car and stood in a daze almost hypnotized by the destruction. It was overwhelming to witness a disaster of such magnitude up-close-and-personal, nothing like the indifference of watching a disaster broadcasted on television. So this is it, ground zero. Had the airplane been transporting dangerous chemicals? Or a deadly contagion? She stood there pondering. The park’s swings swayed gracefully in the afternoon breeze while the lovely rose bushes swayed; it was such a paradox for only a few yards away: total destruction.
    A whimpering sound from behind one of the yellow rose bushes brought her back to reality. It almost sounded like a child. Then she saw it. It nervously poked its nose around a rose bush. What a gorgeous Golden Retriever . . . “Poor thing, you must be scared,” she crooned to the frightened dog and knelt down to pet him, but the dog kept its distance from her.
    The breeze kicked up, and she caught a whiff of that peculiar rank odor again, that sickening, putrid smell. The Golden Retriever hunched down, whimpered, and scampered back behind the rose bushes.
    Where are the First Responders? Scarlett decided to check out the crash site and cautiously made her way towards the chaotic clutter, but as she ventured closer, she realized there were dead bodies everywhere. One glimpse told her their bodies were completely charred, and even worse, the bodies seemed to have been torn apart . She quickly averted her eyes. Her stomached churned, and she covered her mouth; it took all her willpower to keep from puking.
    Oh shit, if this is ground zero , then she was most likely contaminated. She speculated that it could have been a terrorist attack, and the government had shutdown this area of Roseville or had even evacuated the entire town. She remembered hearing all the sirens and helicopters a few days ago. But why attack Roseville?
    She scanned the area cautiously, afraid to get any closer. Then she realized, if this had been a terrorist attack, the government would be swarming all over this place by now. That’s when something inside warned her to leave. NOW!
    The retriever whimpered again. Scarlett looked back to see a large group of people gathering around her car. They were disheveled and dirty, but as she got closer, she saw what appeared to be dried blood all over their bodies and clothes. They looked like the three injured people she had just escaped from. That’s what this is all about. They must be the plane crash survivors—probably in shock. Their skin had been severely burned, so horribly that it didn’t even seem possible for them to be able to walk or even to be alive, for that matter. Where are the emergency crews, the triage stations, the police, the military? This whole place should be in lockdown or in quarantine.
    The hairs on the back of her neck began to quiver, and that voice from deep inside of her screamed louder: LEAVE! Scarlett stiffened. Slowly, methodically, she scanned the entire area like an animal that knew it was being hunted. That sound again, a gurgling-guttural growl made her heart stop. The people that had gathered around her car were now looking at her. They had spotted her. They looked like a ghastly flashmob of walking corpses as they staggered and stumbled towards her. “Oh, Shit!”
    This time, Scarlett didn’t have her car or any car to seek refuge in. Her legs just starting running, “the fight or flight” instinct took over. She ran down the park’s sidewalk, hurdling over pile after pile of plane crash debris until she reached the closest house adjacent to Rose Park. She banged on the front door. “HELP! Somebody, please, HELP!” No one answered the door.
    She sprinted to the next house afraid to glance back at the severely injured people. But she did, and they were closer, and there were even more of them now, about twenty of them. They were definitely following her. Chasing her? She turned back around only to crash into a green tricycle, leaving a sharp