Clutching his cross with both hands, Tassone began to move, seeking the safety of the street. But there the wind suddenly rose around him, paper and debris swirling at his feet as he squinted and gasped, a forceful blast rushing at his face. Across the street he could see a church, but as he stepped off the curb the wind suddenly rushed at him with gale force, and he leaned into it, pushing hard against it to make his way to safety. The sound of the OHM was ringing in his ears now, mixed with the sound of howling wind; Tassone moaning with exertion as he struggled forward, his vision obscured by the cloud of swirling dust. He neither saw nor heard the truck barreling down, only the squeal of its massive tires as it swerved within inches, careening into a row of parked cars, then smashing to a sudden stop.

The wind suddenly halted, and people were screaming, running by Tassone toward the crashed truck, where the driver's head hung limply, dripping blood, against the window. A rumble of thunder rolled across the sky as Tassone stood mid-street, whimpering with fear. A bolt of lightning flashed above the distant church, and Tassone wheeled, running back into the park. With a sudden crash of thunder, rain began to pour down, Tassone running in desperation as lightning began striking around him, a large tree fairly exploding as he passed. Crying out with fear, he slipped in mud, struggling to regain his footing as a finger of electricity streaked downward, splintering a park bench to burning matchsticks beside him. Whirling, he crashed through a stand of bushes, emerging on a small sidestreet, and the lightning came again, hitting a mailbox next to him and hurling it into the air, leaving it peeled back like a used sardine can as it rolled and clattered to the ground.