The night was quiet. Almost too quiet, thought Evan Harper as he walked down the street. It was a little past eleven, and as far as he could see, Evan was the only thing around for the streetlights to cast a shadow on. He walked with a small bounce in his step, and his feet marched to the beat of the song playing in his head, Maynard Ferguson's rendition of Birdland. Evan was a professional jazz musician with a traditional big band by the name of Harper's Horns. The moniker had come about nearly five years ago when the band started organizing, and all three lead players-- sax, trumpet, and trombone-- had the last name Harper. While the other two had moved on, Evan had remained as the lead sax player. He was currently on his way home from a gig playing at an grand opening party for a new business, where the band had played some great tunes....including Birdland, Gordon Goodwin's Hit the Ground Running, and Earle Hagen's classic standard, Harlem Nocturne, all of which featured alto sax solos that Evan aced. He walked now with his alto case in hand, whistling the theme to Birdland, on this cool, quiet night.
At 24 years old, Evan stood at an even six feet tall, and weighed about 140 pounds. He was lean, with short, dark brown hair and eyes of the same color that were framed by wire-rimmed glasses. He wore blue jeans, black sneakers, a white dress shirt underneath a black, zip-up sports jacket. He had just reached the front door of his apartment building when he heard a noise overhead that could only be described as foreboding. He looked up and, to his surprise, saw a 747 that was far too close to the ground. With a dropped jaw, his eyes traced the path of the plane as it careened and then crashed into a warehouse the next block over. "What the hell.....?" he mumbled as he reached into his pocket for his phone with the intention of calling the fire department. To his surprise, the battery was dead. His brow furrowed and he looked back over at the plane and the flames that were starting to build up around it. He decided to run up to his apartment and try the land line. He set his sax to the side of the door once he was inside his sixth-story apartment and picked up the phone, but was greeted only by silence. A knot began to form in his stomach as he tried flipping on a light and realized that the power was out. People were starting to gather on the sidewalks, looking down at the growing fire. Evan simply looked out his window, mind running 100 miles a minute, trying to make sense of the tragedy he had just witnessed and wondering why the fire department hadn't arrived.