Guilt overwhelmed her and she reached for her door handled to go and see if the other woman was okay. The door was stuck and would not open. She looked around for her cell phone and, finding it on the floor of the passenger side, barely within reach, she put a call into the police. It rang twelve times before a dispatcher answered. She told him she had an accident and she thought maybe she had run over a bag lady. The dispatcher told her to go home, get indoors and not to go out again.

Dora was confused, "You don't understand, I ran someone over, I can't get out of my car and they are just lying in the street, you have to send someone to help, there is blood all over my car!"

"Are you injured?"

"I think so, I can move, I just can't get my door open. The window is broken out."

"Can you start your car?"

"What? Ugh, let me try." The engine would not turn over, "No it won't start."

"You need to get to a safe place, your home if you can reach it, can you make it home?"

"I don't understand! I had an accident. I might have killed a lady! And you are telling me to go home? Don't I have to wait for the police?"

"Lady," a voice sighed on the other end of the line, "Look lady, you heard about the curfew right? You are not supposed to be out; you were supposed to stay in your house. I am telling you, no ordering you, to go home and barricade the doors. Leave the bag lady in the street or sidewalk, do not approach her. Do not wait for the police to arrive, do not stop until you get home and above all do not talk to anyone who looks odd on your way back home."

The woman realized something more was wrong here than she had thought, "Curfew? No…I…" her voice lowered to a mere whisper, "Is it…is it the terrorists? Are they here in Kansas City too? Like Denver?"