Even over the truck’s roar, the booming rumbled through the ground: drums, footsteps, thunder. When the truck blew another tire on the road four miles south of Scranton, they could see the war in the sky. The city’s light projected onto the belly of the monsoon. Flashes of fire, then the sounds of the explosions rolling over them. The echo carried the voices of the victims, rising in surprise and terror. The soldiers on the road could feel it then. What it might be like in the valley right now. A change came over Largeman. His ears pricked, his arms and legs grew taut, and his eyes and mouth went slack, as though something else were taking over. Ketcher saw it and a sharp, dissonant pain speared his brain. Something terrible was about to happen. It was waiting for them on the road, feet stamping the earth. Come here. “Are we posted for combat?” Ketcher said. “No,” Tenenbaum said. “It’s straight through to Lisle now.” Oblivious. Whatever was waiting on the road for them smiled.
