The homes had been constructed in an alternating pattern, with four large single-family homes on each side, each house in the center of two acres of land. They were arranged so that no two homes were directly opposite each other, another small touch that added to the privacy of the community. The street ended several hundred yards in front of him in a cul-de-sac with two more enormous homes angled in toward the street as if standing guard over Arrow Drive.

Various SUVs and sedans were parked in each driveway, and he watched as an attractive woman unloaded groceries from the back of her black Audi SUV as her two middle-school-age children chased a black Labrador in the front yard. Suburban America in all its splendor.

With a little more than two hours of daylight left, the driver approached the first house on the right, 101 Arrow Drive, and prepared to pull into the long driveway. He turned his head to the left as the two boys sped by him on their bikes, which was why he failed to see the little girl on a pink scooter shoot out of the driveway ten feet in front of the van.

His peripheral vision, though, honed to a sixth sense, caught the flash of movement, and his reflexes kicked in. He slammed on the brakes of the van, even before he fully saw what it was that had found itself in the path of the delivery vehicle. Recognition turned to horror, and he prayed to God that he had enough room to stop, although not completely out of a selfless duty to protect the child. He was concerned about the girl’s well-being and safety, but he was more concerned about his own.

As the van skidded across the pavement toward the girl, he gripped the steering wheel tighter, and he realized there wasn’t enough time. He was going to hit the little girl. If I hit her, this operation is over, and he’ll kill me. The man in charge would not tolerate mistakes, not ones like this, when the stakes were so high.

Chapter Two

Chapter
Two

Zachary Chambers—Zack to everyone he introduced himself to—kept walking toward his neighbors’ driveway, the Thomases’ mail in hand. It was an inevitable annoyance of suburban life that mail was occasionally delivered to the wrong address, but it felt like it had been happening more frequently. Maybe a sign of societal decay? As goes the Post Office, so goes the world.

The cool fall late afternoon felt refreshing, and he inhaled deeply as the Amazon van turned the corner onto his street. Another sign of societal decay, for sure.

As the driver approached, Chloe Thomas shot down her driveway toward the street, triggering alarms inside Zack’s calculating mind. An old habit, he took a mental snapshot instantaneously—Chloe on the scooter, the boys on bikes, the distracted driver—and he realized the imminent danger. Oh no.