Prologue

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In Augusta, Maine, something really strange is happening. People are rushing into the factory, begging us to lock the doors. I get that time is money, but this is serious. I've tried calling my wife four times, but she won't pick up. Even Brock, my usually lazy friend, didn't show up for work today. Who knows what he's up to.

The city is usually pretty sketchy, but today is on another level. Cop cars and ambulances keep zooming by the factory, sirens blaring. In a city used to trouble, I've never seen seven of them by lunchtime.

I've got to get back to work, but I'll write again tomorrow, Mom. Love you!
-A.C

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