At last Beth takes out her phone and dials Dr. Lairman-there is no answer. She hangs up and dials her mother. She gets the operator instead: "We're sorry. You have reached a number that has been disconnected or is no longer in service. If you feel you have reached this message in error, please try again." She hears the sound of helicopters in the distance, very faintly. And something else: military jets. She tries the number again-gets the same message. Then again, dialing extra carefully. Same message. She glances at the newspaper on the counter as she listens. Its headline reads: AUTHORITIES LIED ABOUT RADIATION DANGER. She looks down the bar at the others, a few of whom stare back. She quickly takes out a few bills and lays them on the counter, stands. The military jets fly exceedingly close as she moves toward the exit, the roar of their engines rattling the panes. "Ah, go ahead an' blow us up!" someone calls. She exits the diner just as a jet passes over. Peering up at it against the gloomy sky, she has a brief flashback of the shape outside her windshield, and reasons that what she saw was indeed a jet. She moves toward her car … and realizes that its hood is up. Concerned and a little angry, she continues walking toward it, finds a mechanic toiling away. "What are you doing?" The man looks up, startled, and wipes his hands on his pants. "After the way you careened in here? Giving you a safety check. Don't worry, it's all on the house." "A safety check," she says, mostly to herself. "But I … no, I'm sure I don't need one of those. Why would you-" "No, no, I insist," says the mechanic, ignoring her. "Your own safety's one thing, but you've got a baby to think about. Says so right there on your-" "I said I don't need one!" And she unloads on him, telling him to get the hell away from there. She looks up in mid-tirade to find the waitress and most the patrons gathered in the door of the café, staring at her. She looks at the mechanic, who seems genuinely hurt, and a wave of guilt washes over her. At last she drops the hood and climbs in, starts the engine. The mechanic joins the others, still wiping his hands. And they watch her drive away

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