The rain running down the windows smeared the lights of the diner; neon shimmed and wavered, rivulets obscuring his view.
The music was loud. He drummed along, hands striking the steering wheel. Sam would remember the pie, sure he would.
Something was wrong. He peered through the blurred windshield. Where did every one go? No movement, no life. He couldn't see Sam.
He threw himself out of the car and ran screaming Sam all the way.
He slammed open the door. No one looked up. They couldn't. They were all dead, sprawled on the floor, asleep in Death's deep embrace.