“Gladys, Gladys, are you all right?”

Nothing.

“Gladys!” Joe yelled out, terror in his voice now.

“I’m okay,” she replied, as she scrabbled to get up off the floor of the car.

“Daddy Joe,” Gladys said, as she was pulling herself back up, hand on the back of the passenger seat, “There’s a bullet hole in this seat,” and started poking her finger in it, not believing it.  Her voice soft, subdued, like she was sharing some deep secret.  The broken window and shards of glass spread all over the backseat didn’t even register.  Neither did the icy cold Chicago wind rushing through it.

 “Damn, you gotta keep your head down.”

Gladys curled up on the floorboard.  She was getting the message."

..."Coming home, baby.  Gonna make it home.  Always be there for you.

A familiar voice deep inside of him, repeating the words over and over, keeping time with the furious beat of his heart. 

 By now, the fire had reached a roaring growling crescendo, filled with small explosions.  Just a hint of what was to come.

Hitting the bow, not losing stride, Joe jumped out in a long arcing swan dive away from the boat.  His midair flight was briefly surrounded by an enormous roiling ball of fire.  The latest and last of the explosions, the fire finally having worked its way through the cargo ending at the fuel tanks, tearing and ripping the boat apart."