Megan's Tale

“There’s not a whole lot to tell,” Megan said. “Why don’t we sit down? We’ll all be a little more comfortable.”

Mama Rosie relaxed in the recliner, while Harris, Megan, Trish and Wilkins nestled in on the sofa.

“Oh — what about some drinks or something?” Megan asked.

Trish and Wilkins shook their heads.

“No, thank you, child,” Mama said. “But I would very much like to hear your story.” Megan looked at her husband.

“The story, hon,” he repeated. “We’re all kind of on the edge of our seats here.”

“Well,” Megan began, snuggling more comfortably into the crook of Harris’ big arm, “as soon as Trish told me about the bomb, I went straight to it. She said it was ready to blow. Zoe and J.T. popped in right behind me. Zoe touched it, and confirmed it was going to explode any second. So I just grabbed it — it was wrapped in these yellow shipping straps — and just thought ‘up’ and ‘light speed,’ and forced myself to go as fast as I could.