Preface

11:32…. 11:33…. 11:34, I stared at the clock and took a deep breath. Two minutes. Two minutes until I screw up my family, never have a chance to see my friends again, and play the worst "prank", as Anderson called it, humanly possible. The huge white truck, with a load of gasoline on the back, moved in front of me at exactly 11:35, right on time. I looked over at Anderson in the passenger side of the beat up red car and grabbed his hand. We looked at each other with distant eyes; both wondering what exactly would be in store for us after this.

At 11:36 we reached the top of the bridge and the plan was executed perfectly. The truck driver, a man that Anderson and I had seen many times throughout our training, gave a sympathetic smile in the side mirror and swung in front of us, just like he was supposed to. I glanced at the picture of my roommates, turned the steering wheel quickly and kept my foot on the gas while the car fell off the bridge. Those were my last moments on earth as Maggie Elizabeth Rogers.