Idiot. Canceling the shoot is the first thing I think of?

We needed to find shelter. Except we were out in the middle of nowhere. All around us, people were screaming. Pandemonium covered the valley. The ground shook harder and a second hillside, this time on the west side of the valley, exploded just like the first.

More thunder ripped the sky as tornado-strength wind screamed past, ripping tents out of the ground and flinging them away. I hit the ground, with Tomas and Jane landing on top. One of her elbows dug my ribs hard.

All around us, mountains and hills blasted apart. The ground heaved and shook, and a great weight slammed me down so hard for a second I couldn’t breathe. Tomas and Jane pressed me down into the ground like they suddenly each weighed 500 pounds.

Then the pressure eased and the sounds of thunderous explosions faded away far too quickly. That probably didn’t bode well.

The hills all around were streaming upward, with individual pine trees erupting into the air like giant arrows fired from invisible ballistae. None of the blasts had spread outward to hit us, though. How was that possible?

Edmund lurched to his knees, his face so white he looked like a corpse. His eyes bulged with terror as he glanced up.

“This can’t be happening,” he moaned.

“What?” Tomas shouted as we all cautiously rose to our knees too, poised to hold on if the earth shook again.

“Look! Don’t you see? Everything is falling up. Everything! Everyone!”

No. He couldn’t mean that.

I looked around again and my heart sank into my boots. Edmund might be right. The mountains really were all falling into the sky. Could they be carrying the entire valley and all of us with them?

“Did Yellowstone blow?” Tomas asked, his voice squeaking with fear.

“That would just flatten us,” Edmund said.

“Then what’s going on?” Jane exclaimed, outwardly keeping her cool better than most.

All around us, other people were kneeling or standing, looking around in confusion or pointing to the upward falling mountains. It didn’t look like anyone else had figured out what Edmund had, or at least didn’t dare accept the reality of it.

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“I don’t know!” Edmund shouted, wringing his hands as he lurched to his feet, turning to stare in every direction. “This is impossible. We’re falling up fast, but I don’t feel any wind or change in gravity.”

“What could throw a bunch of mountains into the sky?” Tomas demanded.

“I don’t know!” Edmund repeated, looking on the verge of panic.

As I turned a full circle, scanning the weird skyline of upward falling mountains, I could not sense any motion. I’d ridden in enough small planes to have a good sense of aerial direction, but felt nothing. The scattered clouds I’d noticed just seconds ago were gone. The sky looked deeper blue than I’d ever seen. Not good. That color usually only happened at very high altitudes.

We had to be misunderstanding what was going on. I spotted the road. Route 27 was still there. The smooth surface was cracked in places, but it looked solid. I couldn’t see far enough north to see if the main junction of Powderhorn still existed.

“There’s one way to find out,” I said and sprinted for my bike.

“Lucas, wait!” Tomas shouted, but I didn’t slow. If I could get on my bike and hit that road, I could regain a bit of control over the insane situation. My experience fighting deadly forest fires had beat into me the truth that standing still in a disaster only made it worse. Movement meant life, so I moved.

In seconds I reached my bike and jumped on, slamming my finger onto the start button. The fob was in my pocket, so I didn’t need to waste time fumbling for a key.

It roared to life and I sprayed dirt behind me as I tore out of the tiny parking lot. I didn’t bother with my helmet or any of my gear. If we’d just gotten blown into the sky, my armored jacket and helmet weren’t going to do me a lick of good.

How could mountains explode straight up? The land would disintegrate and we’d get shredded by the blast. It was like the laws of physics were glitching. Had the apocalypse happened? No. I refused to believe it. I had to find a better answer.

In seconds I cranked my bike up over a hundred, shooting up the empty road. At that speed, I’d reach Powderhorn in another minute. That fact helped me hold my growing panic at bay for a little longer.

The valley narrowed as I rode, the sky full of rocks and dirt and trees streaming upward, but the ground felt solid under my wheels. The wind tore at my face as I took a corner way too fast, leaned so far over I scraped my foot peg. That was a stupid way to ride that bike, but I didn’t care. One more turn and the bustling junction should come into view.

I topped the last rise so fast I caught air and the view opened up in front of me.

Powderhorn was gone.

The land simply ended, the road cut off like a giant knife had sheared through it barely a hundred yards away. And I was aimed straight at the end of the world going over 100.

No no no no! The fear I’d been holding back out of sheer stubbornness crashed over me, and I nearly lost my balance as I slammed back to the pavement.

Focus, Lucas! Deal with the situation. Think about it later.

First step, don’t die. I braked hard. The entire bike shuddered as the ABS kicked in and I bled speed faster than I ever had before.

It wasn’t enough.

My eyes fixed on that cut in the road where the world terminated. The rear tire skidded as it locked up, so I threw myself off the bike, grabbing at the ground, trying to pull a save like young Kirk in the remake of Star Trek when he drove that car off the cliff.

The smooth dirt tore at my skin, but barely slowed me. It was like I was skidding across ice. I felt no pain as I scrabbled against the dirt, trying desperately to slow.

My bike slid over the edge and I followed one racing heartbeat later, screaming as I tumbled into open air.