He walked.
A shadow of the night.
A lifeless form.

A God.
For it was he, although nameless, who had saved so many lives that night. He saved 235 lives, actually. Plus the unborn baby from the woman in the green Sedan.

No one knew who he really was.
He stalked the night as the dawn grew closer. Nothing phased him from his walk.

His walk… to nowhere.

That night he stood.
In the middle of the freeway.
No one could get past him.
No one could go around him.
He blocked up the bridge for miles.
The police shot at him.
He stood there, unscathed.
They were afraid to go near him.
Afraid of his power.

Almost a hundred yards away, and after two hours of negotiating with the nameless man, a strong blast destroyed the bridge.
The police predicted that everyone would have died if the man hadn’t stood there.

The police radioed for back up.
They turned around…

and the man was gone.