It was the best truck stop sandwich I’d ever eaten. The bread was stale, the lettuce wilted, and gods only knew the deal with the egg salad. But it was solid and kept me from shaking to pieces.
I sat in the corner of the Sheriff’s office and pulled the blanket they’d given me tight. Everything leading up to that point circled in my head. One moment I was at gunpoint, and the next I landed in a ditch. Between them were several hours and twenty miles into the next county. Nobody could explain why.
Tears pricked as I curled into my lap. Every part ached for the familiar; my own bed, and my family. Whatever that strange light it ripped them away and cast me into the unknown. Something greater than myself looked past where I stood. It blew the world into frightening proportion.
The Sheriff knocked on the glass and peered through the shudders. He overlooked my sobs, and cleared his throat. “Son, your parents are here.”