Police cars and ambulances lined the road in front of our house. George slammed on the brakes, jumped out, and raced for the front door. I ran around the back of the car. Halfway across the yard to ambulance attendants grabbed me by the arms."Let me go!" I yelled. "Those are my kids in there. I've got to get in there."Glancing toward the house, I saw that George had made it to the porch before two officer stopped him. It was obvious they were going to let him in either."What happened?" My eyes pleaded for an answer."We don't know," she said quietly."Where my kids? Are they in the ambulance?" I spun around, wanting desperately to see them there. Instead I saw only white emptiness. I turned back to the woman, my teary eyes begging for an answer."They're still in the house," the woman stammered.Again I stared at the house. It was pitch black! Nobody was in there trying to help my kids. If they were hurt, they would just leave them in there alone. If they were okay, why didn't they let my kids come out to me? I can think of only one rational explanation. Turning to the attendance and almost a whisper I said, "they're all dead, aren't they?"