5:04 A.M., Friday, December 31, 1999
Agate, Colorado
Nate clicked on net sites around the world. More nothing happened. All was well. He surfed the cable channels. The world seemed poised to party, utterly unaware of and unbeset by the trials and tribulations of which Nate was certain. He clicked and surfed. He paused momentarily—Casablanca was playing on cable.
Where was Amber? Bogart came out of his mouth. "'If that plane leaves the ground and you're not with him, you'll regret it.'"
If only he could hear her quiet little giggle right now, see her demure, resolute smile.
Why weren't people taking this seriously? Shouldn't the Emergency Alert System be advising people what to do, just in case? Nate angrily jerked on jeans, a flannel shirt, his parka, stuffed his 9mm Glock 17 in the large inside pocket, just in case. He slammed the garage door on his way to the car.
Well, he'd had a contingency plan for this for months. If Amber wouldn't listen to reason, he'd just go get her.
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