Kyle Ross was in no hurry as he strolled down the cobblestone street, drinking in the fresh Alpine air. That song by Don McLean had been stuck in his head all day for some reason, and now he found himself softly singing the words.

“Bye, bye, Miss American Pie. Drove my Chevy to the levy but the levy was dry…”

And then…

Time seemed to crawl to a stop—to slide sluggishly through the hourglass like thick molasses.

Before he knew what was happening, Ross was launched through the air, carried by a vicious maelstrom of fire and broken glass.

As he glided over the narrow street, he had time.

Time to watch shards of glass blind an elderly woman.

Time to see a burning mannequin perform cartwheels in the air.

Time to catch a glimpse of a man in a black turtleneck darting down an alley.

He sailed into the window of a souvenir store, crashing into a display of cheap watches.

Three sets of eyes watched Kyle Ross land.

Three sets of eyes in three different worlds.