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He waved back to me.
Four . . . three . . . two . . . one . . .
I looked over my shoulder out the little window in the back of the cabin. Couldn’t see anything except desert, blue sky and the khaki cloth. The little boy had ventured onto the bottom step of the ladder into the back of the truck.
Then: a blight flash.
The boy yelled out.
The blinding white light bloomed out over the sky. Grew stronger. Came down like a giant bolt of lightning.
I ducked.
A loud crack split the air, like thunder hitting really close. Thayu tensed against me.
A moment later, the shock wave hit. The truck wobbled. For a moment I feared it might tip over, but it landed back on its wheels. Clouds of dust rolled over us, reducing visibility to zero. Dust rained on the windscreen and slid down the glass
