once.
Some of the damage particularly in the intersection was extensive, this would make sense. There were, however, many of the other cars. With some the damage was so slight; it was like they gently rolled into one another. One car near North Shore Bank looked as if it was in mid turn going south bound on Clark Street to west bound on North Ave. The damage and the positioning of the cars made it clear the car simply rolled across the street in a diagonal direction and gently crashed into two cars that were sitting stationary, waiting for the light to change.
The second issue to contend with was the lack of reason for the accidents. The street lights were in working order. I was forced to pause on that thought. An injection of fear coursed through me. My eyes again began to search, but this time the sky. Overcast skies, now thinking back, I didn’t remember seeing them when I pulled from the garage. How were they there when I arrived in the intersection? Perhaps it didn’t matter. There was nothing above that explained what was going on in front of me. There was no rain or other weather conditions, but that wasn’t the reason for my growing fear.
I may have told myself I was checking the weather, but I was looking for something much more sinister. The only reasonable reason people would just abandon their vehicles would be if there was an attack or a pending attack. No sign of smoke or evidence of damage anywhere in sight. Instinct pulled against rational thought, I needed to get inside.
Starbucks, I began spending more and more of my money there. They built it next to the Village Theater on Clark Street. Near the entrance, there was a black Dodge Neon that had crashed head on into the lap post. The front windshield was cracked, but I could clearly see the reflection from the driver’s die-cast “Life is a beach” keychain attached to the keys in the ignition. The front of the store seemed normal. No signs of damage on the door or windows. If there was a mass panic and a rush to shelter there should be some signs of it in the street and sidewalk.
A gust of wind, much colder than it should be caused a shiver within me. Perhaps it wasn’t just the chilled air, but the creeping dread that was telling me that this was only the beginning of a long nightmare.
I stared at the storefront and my eye caught a shimmer from something in front of the door. I stepped closer and knelt down to pick up a small cellular phone. It was black with a slick high-tech design; I remembered that the model was just released this month. I placed the phone in my pocked, pushed the door open, and stepped inside.
The Starbucks was dead quiet and as empty as the street. Normally a large group ranging from junior high school students to downtown money makers would be either lined up dying to purchase caffeine salvation, or parked on one of the many lounge chairs chatting away. Just as the wind wasn’t the true cause of my shiver, the desolate café was not my main quandary.
Purses, wallets, change; both bills and coins littered the floor. It was as if everyone dropped what they were doing in a panic and fled. What did not make sense was if there was an attack or disaster why was there no word of it, why would the streets be evacuated, why would people just drop their possessions as if they just disappeared in an instant?
There had to be an explanation, but any reasonable one escaped me. Two cups of coffee, Venti sized sat on the counter next to the cash registered. My uneasiness furthered with each echoing step I made toward it. I learned over the counter and found more money spilled onto the floor on the other side.
Four dollar bills and some change. The cash register was open, it was as if the event happened just as the customer was paying. Vanilla latté, I could smell it. Another contrast, my fingertips felt the heat from the coffee cup. The chill within me grew further still.
“ It’s still warm.”
I was talking to no