Victor

The sky erupted into a brilliant shade of pink imbued with streaks of orange. The ocean below threw back a mirror image of its sheen. Cullen smiled as he leaned against the guardrail and looked out across the sea. It was a beautiful evening.

Cullen had sealed the big deal. He had brought home the impossible commission. He could afford to buy his wife’s dream house. He would be her hero atop the figurative white stallion.

Cullen had saved the day.

He turned away from the ocean. He started across the street. There was a new found swagger in his steps.

Distant tires squealed. Cullen casually, unhurriedly shifted his gaze to the left. A van careened around the corner. Cullen stood stunned a moment before running out of the way. He felt the van whiz past, just missing him. He keeled over on the sidewalk, sweating, panting, shaking.

Inside the van, a woman was shouting. “Slow down! You nearly hit that guy!”

“It’s alright,” a man replied,” it’s alright, if we don’t get the plant in time, everyone is going to die anyway. I am telling you, the explosion will wipe this city off the map. If I hit somebody, I hit somebody.”

“I don’t like this,” the woman replied.

“We have to make it in time. We just have to.”