"What do you mean? What can you do?"

This.

Suddenly, he wasn't beside her anymore. He was gone. The wheelchair was gone.

Corrie gasped as her legs went numb. Terrified, she tried to move them, wanted to get up and run away, but she was paralyzed.

"What are you doing?" she asked Manny, heart pounding. She felt as if she couldn't breathe.

Relax. I'm in here now. Let me drive for awhile. I want to show you what I can do. Just don't fight it.

"What are you going to do?"

I may not be able to walk, but boy, can I ever travel. Just hang on for the ride of your life, sister.

A tug, a pull, and Corrie felt herself detach, separate from her body, lifting up, up into the air. She was frightened. She fought it. "No! I don't want to."

Relax, Manny said again. You won't get hurt.

"It was you, wasn't it? The last time. The dream. It was you, wasn't it?"

Well, it wasn't no dream, but yeah, it was me.

"But I don't want to do that again. It scares me."

You'll get used to it, Manny said. Just think of it as a field trip. A learning experience.

"I don't want to," Corrie whispered.

Well, you're gonna do it, whether you want to or not. You're the one who wanted to 'get to know us all,' remember? Well, you're gettin' to know me. Know me well. He bared his teeth at her in a semblance of a grin, but his eyes were set and hard.

Skimming across the skyline, they sailed past homes and office buildings, malls and restaurants, until they went so fast the landscape below blurred into whirling colors of greens and blues and browns.

"Where are we going?"

Where the action is, darlin'. Where the action is.

They finally stopped, hovering high in the air. Below them a parade marched on, thousands of people lining the street. Big-nosed clowns with brightly colored balloons ran ahead of a Santa Claus float, tossing candies to excited children. Mothers strained to keep their kids from darting out into the street.

The noise was deafening.

Marching bands, drums so loud Corrie could feel each throbbing beat through her, shrill whistles, trombones and trumpets drowning out the sounds of the other instruments. Next came the fire engines, red and shiny, lights bouncing off multi-story office buildings. Children clapped their hands over their ears to muffle the sound of the sirens, eyes shining with excitement.

A line of antique cars appeared, slowly advancing. Model T's, Edsels, and Studebakers competed with newer 'classics', Cadillacs, Mustangs and Corvettes. Old cars made to look new, hours upon hours of painstaking work, shined and pampered and prized, loved by their owners.

One in particular caught Corrie's eye. It was a '65 dusty rose Cadillac convertible, perfectly maintained, no scratch or dent anywhere. A sign graced the door, reading "Mayor and City Council." Inside, three men and two women waved at the onlookers, mouths spread wide in politician's smiles, perfectly capped teeth gleaming whitely.

Then, for a moment, just a moment, a split second, which seemed like an eternity, time stood still. There was no noise. No movement. No air.

Nothing. A still, utter silence.

Somehow more deafening than all the noise.

Suddenly, down at the other end of the street, an explosion ripped through the night air. A massive fireball went up, shattering huge panes of office building glass, sending the sharp knives raining down on the parade-goers.

Utter pandemonium struck.

Explosion after explosion rent the night air as one by one, the antique cars blew up. Smoke billowed up in oily black clouds.

Shouts of joy turned to screams of terror as the onlookers raced to get away from the fire and knives of glass.

The parade line stopped as cars at the beginning of the line paused to see what the problem was. The classic Cadillac convertible, now just two cars away, hit the one in front of it, bringing it to an abrupt halt.

The politicians scrambled to get out, no longer smiling but screaming in terror.

Another car exploded.

The force blew two of the men out of the Cadillac. Another man went through the windshield, his body sticking halfway out of it, legs bent at grotesque angles.

One woman's perfectly sprayed blonde-frosted head went up in flames, a human torch. She flailed about in the back seat screaming.

The remaining woman leapt out of the convertible, but as she did, her shoe caught in the door. She tipped upside down and hung there, trapped, screaming, fighting to free herself, desperation naked in her eyes as the car directly behind her blew. The heat blistered her face immediately and her blouse caught on fire. Frantically, she wrestled with the caught foot and finally freed it from her shoe, dropping to the ground, rolling to put out the flames. Tiny cuts appeared as she rolled on bits of broken glass, but she felt no pain, nothing but mindless terror.

The flames extinguished, she jumped up and ran in the opposite direction of the explosions.

A little girl, deserted by her family, no more than five or six, stood frozen in panic, mouth open in a soundless wail. The woman politician slammed into her without care, sent her flying. She was in the way. The little girl skidded to a halt, head hitting a light pole. Her eyes remained open, glazing over. Blood trickled out of her mouth.

Not sparing her a second glance, the woman council member disappeared into the night, running awkwardly, one high heel on and one off, tight designer skirt hiked well up her thighs.

The tide of humanity ebbed and flowed with each explosion, waves of people crashing, running over each other in their desperation to escape.

The smell of gasoline and burnt flesh hung thick in the air. Screams tore through Corrie's head. Death was everywhere.

"Manny!" Corrie screamed. "Manny! We've got to get out of here. I can't stand it! No more, Manny. Take me out of here. Please!"

Feeling herself being pulled out, she was rushing once again across the landscape, screams still reverberating in her head.

Suddenly, she was back, clutching the polar bear, anchored tightly against its soft white fur, fingers digging in for a secure hold. The smell of burning flesh clung to her. A smell she'd never forget.