The police cruiser slewed sideways on the highway, not an unexpected event. Max had noted a debris field indicating they were coming up to yet another accident in the road. What was unexpected was the sudden lurch to the right that the cruiser made as two of its tires blew out. The driver of the car, Jane Stewart, brought it to a controlled stop along the shoulder, near the crest of a small hill. Max groaned out loud, “Not again!” Then he slammed on the brakes of the minivan he was driving, the brakes were of the anti-lock variety and he slowed to a stop while keeping control easily. He hoped he had stopped before hitting whatever the cruiser had hit.

Beside Max, his son Nick sat staring intently out the window.

“I don't see what they hit. I can't see anything.” Max had been relying on his son to help him avoid any debris on the highway, in fact whomever sat in the shotgun seat had to keep an eye on the road as well. Even going twenty to thirty miles an hour they still ran over some things. There were times the entire highway was closed off from wrecks and as they traveled along highway seventy six they had also come across one bridge that looked liked it had been blown up on purpose, an ominous sign that Max took to mean they were behind enemy lines. Skirting the destroyed bridge had caused them to detour about thirty miles out of their way, but they had lucked out and found another wrecked state trooper vehicle, which they had taken three good tires off of.

Stopping well shy of the cruiser. Max went forward to check on Stewart, and Tom, who was in the shotgun seat of the cruiser. He had to wade through a field of clear broken glass and he couldn't tell what kind of vehicle it has come from but there were lots of shards everywhere.