I woke up early the next morning. The sun wasn't up yet. For the most part, it was silent. The smell of smoke hung in the air for most of the morning from lit fires throughout the city. I began walking on the sidewalk, hands in my pockets, head down, trying not to draw attention. I was walking for about 20 minutes. The sun began to slowly rise on the eastern horizon; a blazing ball of fire rising out of the ashes. It began to light up the dark city, showing its true ugliness and the reality of what it had begun. The city seemed to have embraced the darkness and despised the light.

The sun was now clear of the horizon and sizzled as it began its steady ascent. I was now walking on what was left of Constitution Avenue. I walked down the abandoned street. No one seemed to have come here anymore. Everything was silent except for the bombs that went off now and then in the distance. I came up to where The Ellipse used to be. To my left, the White House, destroyed for the most part. To my right, the Washington Monument towered over everything in the dismantled city, watching everything. How I hated it now.

There was ruble all over the ground and it was hard to move around. I now stood directly underneath the monument. It was larger than I thought it would be. What could possibly be here, I thought. There's nothing left. I bent down and touched the ground and there it was again. Another whoosh like before. I was still in Washington, still at the monument, but now it was different. Everything was still intact. The ground was clean the glass was green, the White House was still standing, and the sun was shining on a brilliant afternoon. Everything seemed to be normal, but eerily quiet. Then I looked up.

A missile screamed as it pummeled down straight into ground about a mile away from where I was standing. The ground shook violently for a long moment and gave way to a deep rumble. I watched in horror as a wave of fire blasted my way and in all kinds of directions. I couldn't move and was helpless against this tidal wave of bleeding reds and oranges. I shielded my eyes as the wave engulfed me. I was now in a fiery furnace, no way out. I looked up and saw a horrific mushroom cloud quietly rise from the earth into the air. The cloud ominously loomed over Washington; fire was now in total control of the city. All hope was lost. Nothing remained, only memories. What was once the mighty capital of the strongest nation in the world now was reduced to shambles and ruins.

Then something caught my eye. It was something small and silver. Maybe round. I looked around and saw it briefly land in the rubble right in front of the Washington Monument. Then, with another whoosh, I was back where I was. I looked around trying to found what I saw. I tried scurrying around, feverishly searching for that item that was in my flash of the past. I dug through rocks and dirt and everything, scrambling to find it. I searched for about twenty minutes before I found it. I grabbed it and held it up. It was a cane head, small and silver, lines engraveddirty and kind of rusted. I looked around, feeling paranoid.I became more paranoid ever sinceI woke up.I stuffed it in my pocket and began to head back.

I went back to the alley and got something to eat at one of the military stations. They had them here too. They were more crowded here than in Baltimore. People now wandered the streets, walking around trying to get by. No one looked my way. No one cared about anyone here. It was an "everybody for themselves" world. There was no time to help anyone but yourself. It seemed like this world didn't have any Reggie Masons around anymore.

All of a sudden I started thinking about Reggie. I hadn't really thought about him much after I left him there on the street to die that day. I never grieved him. I felt dirty about it. The one man who helped me out and I didn't even think about him. He risked his life for me, a complete stranger, of all people, in a world like this. I started thinking that I could have done something that day. Anything. I could have helped him, saved him. Instead I ran like a coward. He told me to, but I shouldn't have. I reacted, and I felt horrible about it.

Who were those people though? Army? Militia? I couldn't tell. I never got a good look at them. But clearly something was going on in the country. But once again, I had no idea what. I had all the questions with none of the answers.

And what about this John Smith? His name sounded familiar but I still couldn't place his name anywhere. He seemed not to popular around him. People hunted in packs throughout the day trying to hunt him down. They blamed him for what had happened. Some people defended him. Right now I didn't know who to believe or what to believe, for that matter. I was still lost and trying to search answers. Something big was happening, I knew it.

I went back to where I had kept the backpack and sat down. I couldn't sit down. I stood up and pulled out the cane head. I looked at it. Whose was it? And why would my dreams and flashes lead me to it? I shook my head and dug my hand in my pocket and as I was about to let it go and then-

A lightning flash and then I was propelled into a forest. I was standing in the middle of it. It was dark and windy, in the middle of a storm. I was standing on a hill surrounded by trees towering way over me and the branches swayed madly due to the wind. I just looked down and saw a dirt road. There were some cars and trucks carrying props and wheels and such. It looked like some kind of carnival. There was a group of people scattered on the floor by the lightning flash, some of the others were running around searching for cover from the storm.

Then I noticed something. A man, blond hair, looking straight at me about 30 yards away, I really couldn't tell. He was on the ground like a few of the others. He was holding a cane in his hand. Then at that moment, as our eyes met, it seemed like there was no one else. No storm, no carnival. And at that precise moment, it was just him and me. And at that moment, I knew who he was. I recognized him. He was a figure from my past. One of the last people I remembered before I woke up to this nightmare. His name hit me like a locomotive and I couldn't believe what his name was. Of all the names it could have been, it was this one name that seemed to be hated themost in this new world I lived in.

"Johnny Smith…?" I asked him almost in a whisper. He only gave me a blank stare, confusion in his eyes. The second after, a bolt of lightning struck straight between us and I was right back where I was before the forest. I was trembling with fear. I thrust my hand out of my pocket like I had just touched a fire. My hands were trembling. Whatever this was that was happening to me, what just happened was more intense than anything I ever had before. A small headache began to form in my head, lightly pounding in rhythm. It was a rush and I was afraid to touch the cane head again. But than as I though about the can head, I realized that Smith had the same cane head. He was holding it as I was holding mine. We could see each other. We shared whatever it was. It was the most frightening thing I had ever experienced in my life. No kidding.

Smith. That name. What was this power that I seemed to have? What was it? Who was John Smith? Did he have this power too? This whole thing was confusing. My head began pounding louder and louder as questions poured in. My mind was a dam ready to fall apart. I looked down at my pocket. I shivered at the thought of the object that lay inside. I didn't know how important it was, how truly important that small cane head really was. The more I thought about it the more scared I became. I could feel its power from inside. I could feel a weird energy oozing around it, reaching out to me. I hesitantly reached inside the pocket and pulled it out.

I held it up and twirled it around in my hand, studying it. I felt it. Just touching it, I knew it was important. It was something huge. I could feel it. Then I was thrust into another vision. This one was different. It wasn't like the last one where I was literally somewhere; this one seemed to just show me something.

It was Smith. He was at a fair, walking with a woman. It was odd. I didn't know her. I never knew who she was, but feelings and emotions flooded in my mind. She was important to Smith. He really cared about her. Sarah Bracknell. She was everything to him. Then I was thrust a little further along. Smith was dropping her off at a house. It was raining now and he covered her with his jacket as they ran to the door, laughing. He kissed her and told her he'd be get some movies and be right back.

Then he was in the car driving on and empty road. A truck came into view, headlights blaring. Headlights soon filled Smith's eyes, and the truck's horns ripped the air. The truck hit him head on and caused a massive explosion. The car tumbled several times before coming to a stop on the side of the road. I moved further on.

As I continued to watch the life of Johnny Smith before my very eyes, it became a revelation.I began to realize what had happened to me. The more I got to know him, the more I knew what I had become. I realized my own purpose, my destiny.