“Think of all the carnage there would be,” Pete says to me as we drive down the freeway, “if a bomb like that went off.”
“There’d be way too much damage. We couldn’t even get in and get the goodies out for days. Besides, the oogies would get there before we could even get close. You know how they like a fresh cooked meal.”
“But think of all the zeenite we…”
The ground shakes, interrupting him. The car feels as though we are driving sixty-five miles per hour across rubble. He slams on the brakes as the plume of black smoke spews up into the sky. We look at each other and smile.
“Wish and you shall receive,” he says and jams his foot onto the accelerator pedal. “And you say, playing pretend is for kids.”
We exit the highway and follow the smoke. Emergency units have not arrived yet and it will be a little bit before the oogies smell the burning flesh of the victims. We jump out of the car and put on our heat suits. As we step into the swirl of smoke and flames we give each other a high five.
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