Shadow Of The Past Trilogy ∞ THE DISPLACED

3 ∞ black or green

Day One ∞ Early Friday morning, August 10, 1979

THE URGENCY OF "THE DAM" WAS GONE. No longer did he have a compulsion in the back of his mind pushing him on. Danny glanced at the girl beside him as the strange circumstances fleeted through his mind.

It didn't make sense.

Why was he here? Why was she here?

Still in disbelief, he shook his head and wiped his forehead. With the adrenaline rush from earlier subsiding, he was starting to feel tired.

We'll soon reach home. In less than a half-hour, keeping within the speed limit. He decided to turn on the radio to ease his tension.

"—that's three times in the past two weeks!"

"So what you're saying is that this cougar isn't finding enough prey to feed on?"

"That's right. Why else would it be turning over my trash can?"

He changed from the local station to some easy music.

That's more like it. This made up for what he'd had to suffer through at the club. The loud music and cheering had been an assault to his ears. But he'd suffered through it amicably while watching Ray arm-wrestle the Myers brothers and the lifeguards from Lakepoint, figuring, in the meantime, a couple of beers wouldn't hurt.

A couple of beers.

Right.

First time drinking beer since he couldn't remember when and he almost blew it. Fortunately, it was still within his limit, so he could drive Ray home. Ray was something else, though, working hard on "building up self-confidence to match the size" of his biceps. Arm wrestling was his attempt to attract girls' attention and land a catch.

Instead, he was the one taking a girl home with him. That had definitely not been part of his plan.

He shook his head to himself again and glanced at her before the familiar tune of Dust in the wind made him hum. The strains of violins atop acoustic guitars were soothing. His fingers came to life, strumming the air over the steering wheel. He wished he could finger-pick like that.

The song faded as he turned right onto the next county road—and the decade-old hit In the year twenty-five twenty-five took over. He bobbed his head to the music, and it was not long before the treetops up ahead lit up in pace with the beat.

Another one?

Apprehensive, he eased his foot off the gas pedal, slowing down to a walk as he approached the curve.

Those were blue and red flashers.

As the road straightened before him, a line of silent emergency vehicles approached the upcoming bridge. His heart jumped to his throat. He'd better pull over.

As he rolled to a halt at a small service station, a police car, a fire truck, an ambulance, then two black cars flew past—the sudden draft hitting him in the face.

What the hell? He hopped out of the truck, his eyes glued to the last two vehicles as they disappeared around the curve with their pulsating lights trailing in the air.

Maybe it had something to do with the blackout. He looked around. No lights came from the buildings in this area either and this old, one-pump station was closed. But across the road near the bridge, he caught sight of something hovering.