Sunday, October 15, 2000 (5 PM)

The backwash of the largest explosion 20-year-old Frank Hardy ever experienced in his life fell over him and he struggled, for a moment, to keep his feet in the face of catastrophe. The shockwave caused by the explosion sent him spiraling head-over-heels a moment later and he fell awkwardly back to the ground, just behind a car parked across the street from his house. As Frank looked toward the house, he saw a billow of flame and smoke rise up from the house that he had called home for all but five of his twenty years and his mouth fell open in shock. He wanted to deny what he saw, what his eyes told him to be true. His house was a burning mass of rubble, depleted to the core of foundation and rock in just a few short seconds.

Frank struggled to his feet and winced as his arm throbbed. He felt completely dead inside, his senses refused to register everything he saw and he began to shut down, to go into a shock as profound and real as the explosion had been. Frank winced when he moved his arm the wrong way and took a staggered step toward the house. He took another, then another, stopped only when a large hand grabbed him and pulled him back.

"You can't go in there, Frank," a harsh voice whispered into his ear. "Stay back!"

Frank stammered for a minute, protesting that he had to go put the fire out before they lost everything. The voice told him that if he took a single step toward the house, Frank would be tied to a car to keep him out. He couldn't go any closer.

Frank struggled against his roommate's arms, struggled to make it those crucial fifteen yards to his house. He already felt the heat, so intense he felt sunburned already. He stopped finally, stopped when he was unable, even remotely, to break the stance and hold of Connor MacKenzie.

"Frank? Where's Joe?" Frank turned to his younger sister who stood beside them, her face an ash-gray color as she looked at the burning house before them. "His car is there, where is Joe?"

Frank turned back to the house as he felt whatever color remained his face drain away. He began to struggle in earnest then as tears began to stream down his cheeks and he kicked at Connor, trying to break the grip that Connor had on his arm. Just as he would have broke free, Mandy stepped forward and screamed, in a voice that made Frank chill inside.

"JOE!"

Monday, October 16, 2000 (4 PM)

Frank Richard Hardy sat bolt upright in bed and winced when his arm began to throb with an earnestness that made him lay back again much more gingerly. The darkness that was so familiar to him was back, fled when he woke from the dream and he used his good left arm to touch his right arm gingerly. There was a cast on it. Frank's head throbbed almost in the same rhythm of his arm and he tried very hard, for a moment, not to move.

The dream. What had that dream been? It had seemed so real, so real to him that he thought maybe it might be true. He struggled with his memory, struggled to make sense of everything that flew around inside of his head.

And then he remembered.

It had been no dream. The only thing different in his dream is he had been able to see the events that happened. But it had been no dream.

Frank Hardy began to cry in sincerity once again.

Saturday, October 14, 2000 (12:45 pm) *flashback*

"It all depends on how you look at it, how you concentrate, how you fight and how you persevere against your blindness. You can either sit back and let your blindness beat you, let your best friend, your neighbor, your mother, your dog or your brother drag you down and make you think you are worthless or you can fight. Nobody else is going to understand you or what you're going through. Only those of us who are in this room, who were once sighted but lost our sight through whatever misfortune came your way will be able to understand. Your little sister won't understand. Your teacher won't understand. Your brother, mother, father, aunt, cousin, nephew, best friend, girlfriend or husband won't understand. All of them, every single person close to you is going to hope for the miracle cure, is going to hope for your sight to come back to you right away. They'll push at you to accept the first cure that comes your way. The only person who can make you accept them or try them is you. This is you. You can defeat it or you can be beat by it."

20-year-old Frank Hardy took a deep breath though he had not been the one speaking. He sat in a classroom (or so his girlfriend told him) at Bayport General Hospital, listening to the teacher of this course speaking about how to cope in a sighted world. Matthew "Tank" Terwilliger had been an all-star athlete attending Harvard University on a football scholarship when a rough tackle and a cleat to the face knocked Tank unconscious. When he woke up he woke to the same thing that Frank now saw everyday. Darkness. Tank spoke passionately. He'd been blind now for three years and got around as though he had been blind all of his life. He was currently one of Frank's heroes. Maybe it was because Frank himself was now in Tank's shoes - a formerly sighted person who had lost his sight tragically.

"The only person who can drag you down is you," Tank continued. "You can let your blindness eat away at your soul until there's nothing left or you can accept that you are, in fact, blind and continue on with a productive life. It doesn't matter how you were blinded. It doesn't matter that it's not fair, that it's not right or that it's not what you want. What matters, my friends, is that it is. Accept it. Face it. And learn to work with it."

Frank smiled and leaned back in his chair to rub at his eyes. His eyes, described to him in descriptive detail by his girlfriend as a chocolate brown, itched occasionally. He knew it wasn't his normal allergy season - during the springtime ragweed played a merry havoc with his nose and his interest in breathing. That made his eyes water and burn if he wasn't prompt with his allergy med. His shoulder length brown hair rubbed against the back of his neck and tickled it. He would rather it were Samantha doing the tickling, truth be told.

"Everyone take your Braille readers home today," Tank instructed them. "Go slow. It will take your fingers time to get used to the feel of the bumps, to gain the exact sensitivity needed for reading. Don't get discouraged if you don't have it down the next time we meet. You'll learn. What's important is that you keep trying and remember.

"You rule the blindness. The blindness doesn't rule you."

That little quote always signaled the end of the class and Frank reached into his shirt pocket to put his sunglasses back on before Samantha came to fetch him home. Frank stood, using his cane to tap his way to the front of the classroom. In the six weeks since he was blinded, Frank still wasn't confident to venture outside or into areas he didn't remember really well but he was persistent in trying the areas he did know. Such as this room. It, Samantha had told him, did not have desks or normal chairs, but merely different types of seats, such as sofas, set into a semi-circle. Tank normally stood at the front. When they needed a table to practice their Braille, they moved to the tables along the wall on either side of the couches.

"How's it going, Frank?" Frank jumped when he heard Tank's voice coming from his near-left side. He hadn't heard Tank approach.

"Uh, just fine," Frank said when he could talk. "Thanks."

"Are you keeping up with classes all right? I heard you haven't dropped any of them yet," Tank said.

"Everything seems to be fine," Frank said, somewhat evasively. What he didn't say was the he'd gotten the first 'B' he'd ever gotten on a test, since he'd had leukemia, just the week before and he was still unhappy about it. It had been for one of his computer classes and he had, simply enough, missed three mistakes and miscoded a whole line of code that he couldn't see.

"Glad to hear it," Tank said. "Just keep up the hard work, Frank. I know it's hard, you just have to take things one day and one step at a time."

"I will," Frank said, without saying it would all be a lot easier if he could see. He'd promised himself he wasn't going to feel sorry for himself but some days, that vow was harder than others. Such as a day like today when he and Sam were celebrating their one year anniversary. Such as a day like today when he would have liked to go with Connor, Joe, Mandy and Vanessa to see the Knights play at an away game in Albany.

Frank sighed and shook back the thoughts that assailed him over and over again. He was not going to fall into a morass of self-pity. He was blind. That fact had not changed in the six weeks since he'd been blinded and it wasn't, from what the doctor's told him, going to change anytime soon. If ever.

I'm the 'accept everything that comes my way and go with it type', Frank thought as he listened for Samantha. I'm not the hotheaded, tear the world apart, until I get my way, type. I'm just not. Besides, my life still isn't bad. Not compared to others.

"Sorry I'm late," Samantha's breath came warm and soft on Frank's cheek as she kissed it and she took Frank's right arm and tucked it in her elbow. "I didn't mean to be. I got held up talking to this lady down in the waiting room. Ready to go?"

"For sure," Frank agreed with her and he flashed her his best smile. Being with Samantha always cheered him up and he pulled her too him so that he could kiss her. One year today, he thought with a happy smile. One year today.

"Wow," Samantha touched his cheek, then took his hand once again and led him from the room. Frank used his cane to tap-tap his way along, touching the tip of his cane against the wall of the hallway whenever he had a chance. Occasionally they had to duck around a cart in the corridor or go past a wheelchair or a group of people.

Medicinal smells, Frank thought not for the first time that day, will never be one of my favorite smells. The scent of rubbing alcohol, the light scent of ammonia underneath that and the more harsh smells of the mingling scents of antibiotics did nothing for his nose at all. Nor did the sounds of the beeping monitors of heart machines or respirators or the hundred other sounds a person heard when they were in a hospital. Frank sighed as he clutched onto Samantha's arm a little tighter as they sped down the hallway from Frank's class.

Frank came weekly or whenever he had an opening in his schedule to allow him to make the trip from Bayport University to Bayport Hospital. All of the classes he took at the hospital had one purpose and one purpose only, to help him further adjust to his blindness. In the six weeks that passed since he lost his sight, Frank never quite lost the hope that his sight might one day return. Doctor Carlisle, always careful to not raise Frank's hopes too high, checked them every other week now, to ascertain whether he saw any clearing of the lenses. So far, there had been no such luck and nothing that made Frank think his sight would return soon. Frank admitted he never allowed himself to think about the possibility too much. If he wanted to get on with his life, and he did, he would rather learn to adapt to what had happened.

That was a big part of what Tank Terwilliger taught and the biggest reason why Frank kept returning to the classes. Learning to adapt, to accept and to not allow his blindness to defeat him but, rather, to learn to do what he could do in spite of being blind. Frank liked Tank; the man had a way of speaking that forced you to believe what he was saying. Tank obviously believed it himself and he had been well on the way to a pro career in football when he'd had his accident.

Frank stopped when Samantha stopped, aware of her movements almost more than he was aware of his own. He was grateful that he could still picture her in his mind. She was five foot six inches tall, coming up to just about Frank's armpit. During the year he dated her before he was blinded, Frank had plenty of opportunities to memorize her face, her red-gold hair that shimmered when the sun shone it and the twinkle that came into her violet eyes whenever she smiled. He remembered her smile too, the way one corner of her mouth would slide up slowly and then the other. His heart beat a little faster when he remembered that smile, a smile he cherished.

"You are thinking again," Samantha said lightly, her voice what Frank thought of as a light, medium voice. It wasn't a lower contralto, like Vanessa or a higher soprano, like Mandy. Her voice was, in Frank's mind, just right. The way she spoke made her words flow with just the right reflection. Frank knew she learned that in her pre-law classes.

"I do that a lot," Frank admitted to her, a grin quirking the corners of his mouth as he smiled at her. She wouldn't be able to see his brown eyes, not behind the dark glasses that he wore. She laughed, the sound a rich treble of noise and Frank sighed with contentment. "I was just thinking about you, actually."

Samantha didn't say anything but Frank didn't have to see her face to know she was blushing. She blushed a lot when Frank said something like that or when he said he loved her or paid her any number of compliments that were nothing more than the truth. Frank smiled at her again and felt her hand brush against his cheek; the annoying lock of hair had been pushed back again.

"I could braid it you know," Samantha offered in a sweet sounding voice that Frank knew to be false. She was teasing him.

"Death first," Frank vowed. "That or a haircut anyway. Maybe just that one lock of hair."

"But it's such a cute lock of hair!" Samantha protested. "And it looks kind of cute hanging over one eye like it does. You wouldn't dare cut it!"

"Wouldn't I?" Frank pitched his voice low, teasing and threatening at the same time.

"Frank Richard Hardy..." Samantha threatened him. She dragged his name out into far more syllables than it actually possessed.

"Innocent until proven guilty," Frank chided her. "We'd better get going if we're going to get to Mr. Pizza in time to see Tony and Biff."

"Oh right!" Samantha said and they continued walking again. Frank heard some doors shush open and after they walked a few feet, he heard them shush closed again. They had made it out into the parking garage connected to the Hospital. "I know how badly you want to visit with them, it's been some time for you."

"Right," Frank agreed. "They're on leave from the Navy. They'll only be in town for a day or two and they said they would be at Mr. Pizza at two. You don't mind going to see them do you?"

"Not at all," Samantha said in a pleased sounding voice. "I've always wanted to meet more of your friends from high school, Frank. I've heard so much about Biff and Tony that I practically feel like I know them already."

"We had a lot of fun in high school," Frank admitted as he thought of some of the things he, Joe, Biff, Tony and Chet had done together. There had been a lot of cases that Tony and Biff had helped with but there were other things too, things not related to detection or crime. Like the time Tony and Biff had decided to pick the locks on Frank and Joe's lockers and switch all of their stuff around so that Frank's stuff was in Joe's locker and Joe's stuff in Frank's locker. It had taken Frank and Joe two days to find out how that had happened. Or one day when they had decided to play baseball in a downpour of rain. Frank was sixteen, had been in remission from his leukemia for six months and was looking forward to that particular game. The rain had put Frank into a particularly blue mood but Joe, Tony and Biff had rounded up the gang and they had played anyway. The downpour made it almost impossible for them to see the ball.

Those were all things Frank remembered and appreciated. He wanted Samantha to be able to appreciate them as well.

"It's just now one," Samantha told Frank. "Let's go ahead and get to the mall. There's a store there that I want to go to."

"All right," Frank agreed as he thought of Sam's propensity for shopping. Frank was very glad that Mandy and Vanessa weren't here. The guys didn't stand a chance when the girls decided to go shopping together. By herself, though, Sam was a quiet shopper. He used to like standing across the floor watching her as she looked through blouses or slacks or dresses and to see the smile that crossed her face whenever she found something she really liked or just whenever her gaze met his. Frank shook those thoughts away. They wouldn't do him any good.

At the store, Frank and Samantha found a nice out of the way corner for Frank to stand while Samantha did her shopping. Around him the sound of shoppers murmuring to one another or taking clothes of hangers can be heard. He smells several strong, distinct, perfumes, none of them the sort that Samantha prefers. None of them are scents that Frank particularly cares for either; in fact, he would just as soon not smell them. One is so acidic it made Frank slightly nauseous.

Frank reached into the pocket of his anorak and fingered the small box hidden away in there. Not for the first time that evening he debated where he was going to bring Samantha on their date that night. The first anniversary of our first date, Frank thought, is important. He had made reservations nearly two months ago, anticipating tonight's festivities. He was fairly certain she would like the restaurant he chose.

Frank fingered the box in his pocket again and a small smile played at the corner of his lips. He bought the gift just the day before, with the help of his younger sister. He had wanted something special to commemorate the special occasion as well as thank Sam for standing by him when he was blinded. Frank felt the luckiest man in the world to have found her and to have had the sense to ask her on that first date.

"I'm ready!" Sam sounded breathless. "Let's get over to the pizza place. We'll get you settled before your friends get there."

Frank nodded as Sam took his hand and carefully guided him from the store and out into what felt like a rush of people going by in the hallway. Frank stuck as close to Sam as he dared while she negotiated a path that got them through the crowd of people going by them.

"Is there something going on here I should know about?" Frank asked Sam as they got past the crowd and into what felt like a more open area.

"One of the soap stars is down by Benson's," Samantha explained to Frank. "I don't remember who it was but I read something about it in the paper yesterday. I had forgotten it until we got here, though."

"I knew there had to be a reason," Frank said agreeably. "I just had no idea what that reason was. For a minute I thought they were going to smash me into a wall."

The smell of pizza told Frank that they were very near Mr. Pizza and the scent of the pizza reminded Frank that he had not eaten since breakfast that morning. Joe, Mandy, Vanessa and Connor were all off at an away game and with Samantha having to work on Saturday mornings, Frank had been forced to get breakfast from the vending machine. He had enough confidence to get himself from his room to the vending machine but not to get from his dorm room to the cafeteria, if he was remotely brave enough to try the surprise that Meller's provided as 'breakfast.'

"Frank!" a cheerful voice called out and Frank lifted his face in the direction of the voice.

"Biff!" Frank called out confidently as Samantha led him into Mr. Pizza.

"H'lo, Frank," another voice said. That one was Tony Prito's voice.

They stopped a moment later and Frank felt his way into the booth, before Sam slid in beside him.

"How are you guys?" Frank asked them as he settled his cane in a corner. "How's the navy?"

"Boot camp was killer," Biff told Frank. "But well worth the going all the same. I enjoyed it quite a bit. But how are you? We got Joe's letter and we still can't believe it."

"And are you going to introduce us to zee charming young lady?" Tony asked in a fake French accent.

"Not if you're going to act like a clown I'm not," Frank chided his friend. "But if I must... Tony Prito, Biff Hooper, this is Samantha Ellington, my girlfriend, love of my life. Sam, this is Tony and Biff. Biff's the large man with the dopey grin, Tony's the wiry one who looks like he hasn't ever eaten a day in his life."

"Do tell, Hardy!" Tony laughed. "Nice to meet you, Sam. Any friend of Frank's, as they say."

"Pleased to meet you as well," Samantha said softly. "I've heard a lot about the both of you, from Frank, Joe and Mandy. It's nice to be able to put a face to the stories."

"They're all lies!" Biff declared and laughed. "Don't believe a word they tell you about us, Sam. It's all exaggeration and innuendo!"

Samantha laughed with them and Frank relaxed back in his seat, grateful to hear that his girlfriend and his friends were going to get along.

"I speak only truth, young friends," Frank told them both. "I speak only truth. You'll just have to live up to your reputations, such as they are."

"Oh, touché!" Biff exclaimed heartily and Frank flashed him another broad smile.

Frank relaxed back against Sam and held her close to him, grateful that his friends did not seem uncomfortable with his blindness. Many were, though Frank, gratefully, could not see their faces or their expressions. Those were times he felt sorry for those who had to help him get around; nothing could hide the expressions of others from them. Of course, his friends and family rarely allowed the feelings or prejudices of others to affect them.

"So, what was it like?" Frank asked them both. "Boot camp I mean. Is it as bad as they say in the movies?"

Tony and Biff regaled Frank and Sam with their outrageous tales of boot camp (half of which Frank didn't believe but laughed through nonetheless) as well as the things Frank never wanted to know about the Great Lakes Naval Academy in North Chicago, Illinois.

"Hello!" Frank gave a start when he heard a voice he hadn't expected to hear, at least not until Christmas or so. Callie Shaw. His ex-girlfriend. Who was supposed to be in San Francisco?

"Hey, Callie!" Biff called out enthusiastically.

"Call!" Tony called out just behind him.

"Hello, Callie," Frank said, softly, politely.

We, Frank reminded himself, parted amicably. We decided to stay friends but to not date. She was going across the US to go to school; it was better that way. Frank managed a smile for her though he squeezed Sam's hand a little tighter.

"We didn't expect to see you in town," Tony commented after the sounds of squishing leather told Frank that Callie was sitting beside Biff and Tony on the other side of the booth. "How are you? What's going on in San Francisco?"

"Nothing much," Callie said. "I came back to town for Dana's wedding tomorrow and thought I'd see who I could find while I was here. I have to fly back to San Francisco Monday morning."

"Callie," Frank spoke up a moment later, feeling decidedly awkward. He swallowed and slumped lower in his seat. "I'd like to introduce my girlfriend, Samantha, to you. Sam, this is Callie Shaw."

"Pleased to meet you," Sam said in a sincerely polite voice. "I've heard a lot about you as well."

"Have you?" Callie said. "I'm happy to meet you too, Samantha. I'm afraid I haven't heard as much about you, though I have heard some. I'm pleased to meet you too. I hope he's treating you well?"

"The best," Sam said in a breathy voice. "Thank you for asking."

Frank wondered if it was too late to crawl away and get away from this love fest between his girlfriend and his former girlfriend. He wondered if he might duck under the table.

"Aren't you going to Dana's wedding?" Callie asked a minute later. "Frank?"

"Ah, no," Frank admitted, feeling a little abashed and decided uneasy. "I, uh, don't get out too much these days. I believe Mandy and Joe will be going, however. I know Mandy's a bridesmaid so she's probably bringing Connor with her."

"Can I ask an... impolite... question?" Callie asked on the heels of Frank's explanation about the wedding. "Why do you wear sunglasses inside, Frank? It's not that bright in here."

Frank heard Sam, Biff and Tony all inhale sharply at that question and he sighed. So nobody had told Callie that he'd lost his sight. He shouldn't have been surprised, if he hadn't told her, he couldn't expect someone else to do it. Frank took a deep breath and tried to force a smile to his face. If it appeared, he knew, it was only a half-smile that wouldn't make it to his eyes - if anyone could see them. Frank shrugged and pulled off his glasses.

It took almost a full minute for Callie to process just what she saw.

"Frank!" Callie exclaimed in a half-fearful sounding voice. "Oh, Frank, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean... I... I'm so sorry... I didn't know."

"It's all right, Cal," Frank said to her and he reached a hand across the table. He felt hers on top of his. He turned his so he could squeeze her hand, then he pulled it back and grabbed Sam's. "I couldn't expect you to know. It only happened about six weeks ago, near the beginning of the semester. I don't think anyone knew... how to tell you. I know I didn't. I haven't figured out how to tell anyone about it."

The room was silent for a moment except for the occasional startled gasp from Callie. Frank wished there had been a better way to tell her but there wasn't a good way. He felt Sam squeeze his hand and knew she smiled at him. He leaned his head on her shoulder a moment and she kissed the top of his head.

"Please, Callie," Frank told his ex-girlfriend. "Don't worry about it? I'm adjusting and I've been able to keep up with all of my classes."

"You have?" Callie sounded surprised by that, though not shocked. If anyone knew Frank's fighting spirit better than Samantha, it was Callie. "I'm not surprised, not really. If anyone can handle what's happened to you, Frank Hardy, then it's you. I really am sorry."

"Thank you," Frank accepted that for how it was meant. Samantha relaxed next to him, whatever tension built up in the last few minutes left her.

"Look," Callie said. "I really have to go. I just came to say hi to whomever I saw and pick up my dress for the wedding tomorrow. I really do hope you and Joe and the rest make it to the wedding, Frank, I know Dana would want you there. Nobody... nobody will say anything, if you're worried about that."

Frank shook his head. That wasn't what he was worried about at all. He was more worried about making sure everyone else was comfortable. They may not say anything but they'd been uncomfortable around him. Samantha would be uncomfortable at the wedding, too and he couldn't imagine putting her through that, though she never said anything about it.

"All right," Callie sounded reluctant. "I'll see you all later, I hope."

Frank heard her shoes tapping across the tiles of the restaurant floor as she left and he sagged back in his seat, not aware before that he had been so tense. He hugged Samantha a little more tightly and marveled at his incredible luck.

"We have to go too," Tony cut in a moment later. "We're getting together with Chet and Kaitlyn and going out to the Blue Moon. You'll be around tomorrow, won't you?"

"Sure will," Frank nodded. "Do you want to get together tomorrow afternoon?"

"Let's make it tomorrow evening and you got a deal," Biff said. "My parents and I are heading out on the bay tomorrow and we won't be back till six. We're going to Tilley Island for the day."

"And I'm going with Chet and Kaitlyn out to the Aquarium. We'll be back about then too. Where do you want to meet?" Tony asked.

"How about my house?" Frank suggested. "If you're all still hungry we could have a barbecue. My folks are out of town on a cruise so we'll have the place to ourselves."

"Mmm, sounds like a deal," Biff said heartily. "We haven't had good barbecue since we left for boot camp. Trust me, you don't want to trust what people in Northern Illinois call barbecue."

Frank and Samantha both chuckled appreciatively. They would obviously hear many more such stories about Tony and Biff's time in the navy. Tony and Biff both said good-bye again as they left and Frank heard them break into another mock argument as they left the restaurant and said good-bye to Tony's father on the way out. Frank turned to Samantha as she laughed lightly.

"You have very interesting friends, Frank," Samantha told him as she took his hand and then stood. He grabbed his cane and slid out of the booth behind her. She tucked her arm around his again as they walked.

"Have you decided where we're going to night?" Samantha asked him as they walked down to the entrance of the mall where they had come in. "Do I need to dress up?"

"Yeah," Frank grinned at her and squeezed her arm affectionately. "I think I know where we're going and you'll want to dress up a little at least. It's a formal restaurant but I think you'll like it."

"You're not going to tell me where it is, are you?" Samantha asked.

"Nope," Frank continued to grin, his brown eyes taking on a mischievous glint that she would not be able to see. Dark glasses were good for some things, he thought roguishly. "But you'll like it, I promise!"

"Spoilsport!" Samantha retorted but then she laughed and kissed him again. "You haven't let me down yet, you know."

"I'm going for a perfect record," Frank explained to her as he felt her reach out to open a door. He stepped carefully through it and reached out, walking forward till he came into contact with the glass from the next door. He felt until he came up with the handle and he pulled the door open toward him, holding his cane in a position that would discourage others from trying to walk into the door.

Samantha brushed past him and went outside. He let the door close behind him and he felt Samantha take his arm. It was, if Frank remembered right, about twenty steps to the parking lot. He had counted going in but he didn't always remember the numbers later. He was just now to the point he could remember the number of steps from the stairs on his floor in the dorm to his door and from the laundry room to his door.

The twentieth step, however, Samantha warned him that they were stepping down and he smiled in satisfaction. So he'd remembered that right. He could put that down later as another small victory for man.

A split-second later, however, Frank heard the definite sound of squealing tires and, as Samantha screamed loud enough to split an eardrum, he felt himself flying backward.

The Loss PG