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pointing up at the sky. The text below him read, "NY City in Panic, Nuclear Attack Imminent."
    Cal stared at the words as if in a nightmare. They made no sense. He could feel his hands going cold and clammy. He turned to survey the crowd and realized people had started to pour into the station from every entrance--pushing, shoving, full of panic.
    From what he could see on the TV monitors, New York was in pandemonium. Drivers were trying to get out of the city any way possible, careening down sidewalks, scattering screaming pedestrians, knocking over display signs, newspaper racks, and hot dog carts.
    New Yorkers on foot were running for their lives past stalled cars and traffic jams. Bridges were filled with panicking people, fleeing. Riots developed at subway stops as escapees fought for seats on the next subway out.
    As Cal's senses slowly came back to him, the noise in the cavernous main concourse grew unbearable. He covered his ears, but the horrible din of a thousand people trying to flee certain death still filtered through.
    He looked up and saw a woman shoved to the ground by the crush of people running to reach the train tunnels. Cal was standing only a few feet away, pressed up flat against the marble walls to avoid being swept away in the human flood. She reached out to him for help, out from the tangled mob of feet that were trampling her, but Cal was frozen, unable to move. Fear gripped him like a vise, squeezing his chest and turning his stomach to knots, his breath coming in short, panicked gulps. He stared at the woman, her hand outstretched, eyes pleading. What if this was Karen? But Cal couldn't move, couldn't reach out to help her. His legs were like rubber as he found himself slipping to the floor, shaking uncontrollably.
    His cell phone rang. He didn't hear it so much as he felt it vibrating in his pocket. Maybe it was Karen. He fumbled it from his jacket. The screen read "Mom calling." He tried to push the button to answer but couldn't make his finger work. The cell slipped out of his hand to the marble floor and slid away into the mass of rushing humanity. Cal looked across at the lifeless body of the woman. The mob had crushed her underfoot.
    Flooded with feelings of guilt and helplessness, Cal could feel the sobs starting to well up inside his throat.

SIX
    Joshua burst into the glass-lined corridor of his penthouse office and waved off the private security guards. As he dashed through the lobby, his frantic receptionist jumped to her feet, yelling something about an announcement on the radio.
    "Ignore it," Joshua ordered. "It's under control."
    "Abigail's been trying to reach you," she yelled back.
    "Is the team in my office?" he barked.
    "Yes, but--"
    Just then his personal cell phone rang. He clicked the answer function on his Allfone as he headed for the executive suite.
    "Josh!" Abigail shouted on the other end. "I just saw the headline on the crawler in Times Square--"
    "I already heard...I'm at the office...we're doing everything we can to stop it. Where are you?"
    "In the basement of a hotel just off the Square. Deb's with me. Josh, is it true?"
    "Yes. But I'm counting on the Return-to-Sender, the jammer. I've got to believe we're ready for this," Joshua said, trying to sound upbeat.
    The phone went quiet for a second.
    "Tell me that I'll see you again," his wife said with a catch in her throat.
    "Darling, we're going to stop this thing," he said as he sprinted toward his office. "Did Cal get away?"
    "I think so; he didn't answer his cell."
    Joshua could only hope that was because he was on a train right now speeding away to safety.
    "Kiss Deb for me."
    "I will," she said in a voice that was struggling for control.
    "I'll see you tonight--you understand me? I promise...Abby...I love you...," Joshua assured as he burst into his office, his team already waiting.
    "I love you too," she said. "So much...so much...oh, Josh, I'll pray for you that God protects...all of us..."
    He hung up and glanced