Chapter 1

19 March 2009.

0904 hours.

Washington, D.C., United States.

It was 6:45 in the morning when Kelly Antilles, her husband and her two children left Washington, D.C., to Kelly's parents' house in San Francisco, California. Kelly and her husband, Jake, had packed all the belongings they had planned to take with them across the country the night before. Spring Break had come early for their children, Mary and Jason, and the family decided to take advantage of the fact. Even while having made every attempt to avoid traffic, the city was coming to life just as they left, and the family was unable to make it more than about sixty miles out of the city in the two-and-one-half hours since they had left.

They were on the highway, traveling at seventy-five miles per hour, when suddenly a car headed the opposite direction suddenly swerved into their lane. Kelly pounded on the brakes in the Plymouth Voyager that she was driving, skidding sideways, to try to avoid the oncoming car. A Honda Civic hit her from behind when a bright white light enveloped her and her family.

She came to a few minutes later and instinctively turned around to see if her kids were all right. Never mind her husband; she had to see her children. She saw that Jason was bleeding from one side of his face, and both were unconscious, but noticed that both of them were breathing, and was relieved. She turned to face her husband, only to find that the door had been ripped off and that he was missing. The door was nowhere in sight. Leaves were blowing into and out of the minivan. It was strangely quiet, considering they were on the highway. She looked back over to her side of the vehicle, and realized that they were not on the highway any longer. Still dazed, she thought she saw her husband standing up on a hill not too far away. His name escaped her lips in an inquisitive murmur, "Jake... ?"

20 March 2009.

0104 hours.

Between Melbourne and Sydney, Australia.

Andrew Russell was on his way to Sydney from Melbourne. He had to be there in the afternoon, for a business meeting. Being one of the more prestigious politicians in the nation, he had to attend. He had decided, however, to take the long route, to drive along the beach. On his left were the sand dunes. It was quiet. He noticed there were no birds out, there were no sea gulls. There was no real sound, just the lapping of the waves on the shore, the distant roar of water out in the deep ocean, against the dark, midnight blue sky. It was clear, except for a few clouds. The Southern Cross was clearly visible at this time. It was straight ahead of him. He watched it for just a moment, and as soon as he let his eyes off the road completely, a brilliant white light surrounded him. He was thrown off the road, and onto the beach.

His vehicle rolled several times before coming to a stop. Andrew was cursing the entire way down, griping about how this would make it more difficult to explain why he'd taken the route he did. He was used to a lack of sleep, but this was beyond his comprehension. He couldn't afford to waste any more time, getting his car towed out of a sand trap of some form. He repeatedly damned the beach's existence, as if it were somehow the shore's fault he ended up in his current position. Upon landing, he hit his head on the steering wheel, and was knocked unconscious.

Some minutes later, he woke, and his eyes were bleeding. There was a dull ringing in his ears. His car was flipped over, and he was still inside. The hood was crunched in, and the top was fairly smashed, as well. "Damn," he said, "I'm going to be late for the meeting." And he promptly passed out.

19 March 2009.

1604 hours.

Alexandria, Egypt.

Aswad Isa and Omar Alwafai were in bed, when all of a sudden, there was a bright light from their eastern window. They woke, but lay still. Suddenly, the window shattered, spraying both men with tiny slivers of glass. The light was so bright, even if from so far away, that they were momentarily blinded. The bed shifted, ever so slightly, enough to make a small creak and grind softly over the floor. As far as they knew, a nuclear blast had gone off.

Neither said anything to the other. There was nothing that they could think to say. When they were able to see again, they looked at each other with frightened eyes, and lay down again. Aswad whispered to Omar, "What will happen, now?"

Omar quietly replied, "We go to headquarters. And wait. And pray."

Aswad simply nodded and rose from the bed, gathering clothes for the both of them. While neither of them really knew what was going on, they both had their ideas. They both felt, regardless, that their worst fear was yet coming true. Considered conspiracy theorists, at best, they still feared that this was really happening. Excited by it at the same time, they dressed in silence, and left their home.

19 March 2009.

1404 hours.

Edinburgh, Scotland, United Kingdom.

Darren Montgomery had been taking a late lunch break, and was on his way back to work. He was a few minutes early, but that could be good or bad, depending on who was the boss for the second half of his shift. It was a partially cloudy day, so when a booming noise reverberated through the sky, he was taken by surprise. There wasn't any oncoming thunderstorm, to his knowledge. But when he noticed a car veering off the road ahead of him, he said, "What in bloody—!"

Darren almost didn't notice the car in front of him stopping, but he managed to slam on his brakes, fishtailing, and was blinded in the same moment by some illumination in his rearview mirror. However, his car had shut off, but that didn't stop it from careening into traffic. Not being able to see what he was doing, he turned the steering wheel sharply to the left, to avoid any other cars that he might run into, and landed in a ditch.