The Tampered Score

It was suited to one thing. Delaying collapse until he was ready. “Back up,” he said. Nobody moved. “I said back up.” This time his voice carried enough force to push the whole site. Workers, officers, bystanders, even a few camera rigs finally retreated. Aiden took a deep breath, pressed both hands against the strut edge, copied the falling inertia trapped inside the steel frame, then reversed it and dragged the force into the supports he had built. The supports screamed once under stress, and the truck’s side panel jerked upward as if an invisible hand had lifted it. The cold-chain door popped open a few inches. A black-and-white dog burst out, nearly slamming into Aiden’s chest. Everyone froze.