|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Toby Barnes, gunned down at the north goalpost of Memorial Stadium by patrolman Bob Hanson, was the first to die that night when the black rain fell. He was far from the last. |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
The rain caught Ethel Banks while she backed away from the tailgate of her station wagon with two sacks of groceries clutched to her chest. She nearly dropped them when the thunder crashed. She did drop them when the warm rain fell on her. |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
She bent over the split bags, thinking she ought to pick them up, and was surprised to notice how dark the night suddenly seemed. Maybe the bulb in the pole lamp by the driveway had burnt out. But the two sacks and the exposed groceries grew even darker as she gazed at them. |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
They seemed to be turning black. |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Steam swirled up around them. |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
'Isn't this peculiar,' she said. |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Even more peculiar was the way she suddenly felt. Normally, Ethel would've been rushing for the house |
|
|
|
|
|