Dave Thomas skidded to a stop when he reached the ruins of Flight 77 on AE Drive. His gaze settled on what looked like five black dots on the ground. Then he recognized that the dots were the polished nails of a detached foot. He wondered why strands of seaweed waved in a creek flowing through the Pentagon breezeway. Then he realized he was looking at human hair and part of a scalp in water pouring from a broken main. Nearby he saw what looked like a field-dressed deer. No. Minutes earlier the butchered flesh had been a living, breathing person.
