Now in the final moments, the siren's wail drove a certain ex-detective to a lone road . . .
Thunder cracked overhead and Bailey stomach clinched. In front of him was what the old man called destiny. The power poles shook and sparks flew like tracer rounds right into the monster. He wanted to throw up, thinking about his mortal ties in this world, and what he could lose. Years ago, he would’ve smoked the tires into it, but now there was Isabella. Like his grandfather always said, “everything goes back to a woman.” He steadied himself, this was bigger than one man's damned hopes and crushed dreams.
He put the car into drive. Then his hands clenched the steering wheel as the crosswind bowed in his driver side window. The wind’s scream deafened anything inside the car after the window exploded, including Bailey’s expletive filled response. Partially blinded by debris, he could make out the approaching wedge, small telescoping fingers probed the ground under its dark skirt.
“We all need lies to believe in.” The old man’s words. . . hopefully his promise of attaining godhood wasn’t a lie. There was a void left from what was lost in Ashton, Kansas and for the sake of mankind, it had to be filled.
The car’s left side rose. There was a moment of bliss in the tempest-like take off. For a moment pain, noise, and light took over the world, then peace. Like the first time he saw the old man riding at him on the nightmarish horse to take his soul. Bailey knew this was the end. The ultimate question, was there anything after it.
Funny how they always said it sounded like a freight train.