It still sat there, silently laughing at him. “You’re life is in my earpiece,” it seemed to say. “I’m the most important thing in your world... and I relish it.”Overhead, the Anderson’s were fighting again. His domineering, horrible wife was humiliating him once more, attacking his intellect, masculinity and financial acumen. Day after day the same thing, until Mr. Anderson was reduced to a sobbing wreck.And still the phone sat silent.The flier still burned in his pocket. His means of escape, his. It started as a small leak. The water soaked the dry subsoil and thus it could shift more easily. Slowly the leak became larger until that Saturday morning when the massive pipe let go.Ken Carlson and a group of men were digging at the bottom of the trench. It was ten feet deep, four feet wide, and shored up on both walls with four-by-tens. The first hint of trouble came when one of the men slipped on mud — mud that should not have been there. There had been no rain and the subsoil they had. More

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