Deborah dreamed of the truck again. She could not turn the truck in time after wresting the steering wheel from the terrorist and it still struck the school. Burning children chased her. One of the girls asked her, “What are you doing about it? The terrorist is still out there.”
“I can’t yet. It’s not time. I don’t know how to get the terrorist,” Deborah begged.
“Your job is to get just the terrorist,” said the burned little girl. “What are you doing about it?”
“But…” Deborah tried to say.
“Until you do, you will wake up wet.” She waved her hand and Deborah felt herself start to wet her diaper. She woke up in a wet diaper just as a knock came at her door.
She groggily walked to the door and looked through the peep hole. “Who is it?”
“It’s me, Dave,” said the guy at her door. “Dave Mathews. I wondered if you wanted to go on a walk or something.”