“I’ll be back soon,” he shouted, closing the door, starting the engine and pulling out of the driveway. Milly watched, wondered but, suddenly, she felt like there was hope. On a dirt road a few miles away, in the lot of a closed down gas station, Frank stopped the truck and got out. He strode with purpose toward the phone booth. The old fashioned kind, the kind Superman could change clothes in. He lifted the receiver, dropped in three quarters, got the dial tone and punched the number. It rang. It rang. It rang and then …
“Hello,” a voice, thick with sleep said.
“We don’t have to take this lying down,” Frank said to the voice, “we have to stand up, make ourselves heard, and take back what is rightfully ours. It’s time for us to get together, un-create and then … re-create. It’s time.” There was silence on other end of the phone. Frank waited. The voice spoke again, some of it’s sleepiness melting away.
“Who is this?” the voice asked.
“Moses,” Frank said.
To Be Continued…