Epilogue

-Thursday, November 22, 1998, 6:47 A.M.-

That morning, at exactly 6:15 A.M., a Farmer across the way from the roadhouse had heard the sound of the whistle and the explosion, and later saw the smoke. Shortly afterward he'd called the authorities.

Now, the police, fire and rescue units had arrived with a field pumper, a heavy-duty crane and a flatbed truck, their dull paint jobs almost blending in with the dimness save for the broad orange, red and blue beams that searched the surrounding area from their perch atop their roofs.

Luckily for them by that time the fire had gone out, leaving in its wake two ash-covered trees and some smoldering tall grass. All that was left to do was paperwork and clearing the wreckage.

As the crane operator cautiously raised the heap, (Which now resembled something funded by the NEA), the investigating officer, Detective Rudolph Junkins, Jr., glumly surveyed the burnt machine.

His gloomy demeanor changed when he caught a glance at the crumpled license plate, a barely noticeable smirk played across his lips.
He'd waited years to find his old man's killer, and as the workmen relayed heavy chains across the pile, he knew that he could then take peace in the fact that someone'd saved him the time.

The only question was, what happened to this mysterious figure? And more importantly, what happened to the vehicle that punched through the tavern and left those patches of orange paint on the rubble?

A local man, a Mr. Beauregard Duke, would later be questioned due to his ownership of a large, orange stock car,(which was a familiar sight around town), but when the detectives inspected the vehicle, they found no signs of damage, nor did they find any case of a repaint.

Furthermore, the vehicle in question was discovered to be too short to have made the holes, which were reported to be Ten feet tall and eight feet wide. Further evidence showed sets of tire prints belonging to a heavy vehicle of indeterminate origin.

While this question played in the good detective's brain, miles away a young man had been taken to the hospital after being found unconscious on the shop floor of a garage by a passerby.

Strangely, when paramedics arrived on the scene, there was nobody else around. The only noticeable things were that the man's heart rate was slow, and he reeked of smoke, oil, and burnt rubber...