Heat Wave 6: The Dinosaur Apocalypse Has Begun

And that’s when she saw something she would never forget, three somethings, actually, one no more incredible than the next. The first was that the marsupial lion had engaged with the much-larger therapods in a full-on melee, right there between the store and the gas pumps—an entire row of which were wiped out as she watched with just the swish of a tail. The second was the enormous fireball that resulted, which all but flattened the station and rose curling upon itself like a mushroom cloud, hiding the animals from view (if indeed they survived at all). And the third was the President’s black limo (Cadillac One, she knew it was called, or “The Beast”) barreling toward them across the desert—its tinted windows glinting, its fender flags on fire, and driven, it seemed likely (considering most everyone else was dead), by the President himself.

“Well that’s something you don’t see every day,” she said, and looked at Coup, who only shrugged.

“When you gotta go, you gotta go,” he said. “He went.”