The blast is hot, far warmer than the sun-baked asphalt, and the force of the explosion drives her to the ground. The scream of metal and shattering glass, and Irene covers her head out of sheer instinct.

After the blast, the world sounds strangely quiet, empty, and for a moment Irene wonders if the explosion has temporarily deafened her as she picks herself up. She hurts, her skin is raw and abraded from the texture of the asphalt, and bits of glass and fiberglass and whatever else the car had been made of fall from her like fine snow.

"I think that was the answer you were looking for."