Fourth of July (5 page)

AFTER BATTLING AGAINST TRAFFIC for half an hour then running for another fifteen minutes, Chris finally arrived at the scene. He paused for a minute, holding onto a car’s roof for stability. The destruction and sorrow were unbelievable with vehicles, buildings, and people charred. Shattered glass and wreckage littered the ground. Burned and bloodied victims screamed for relief from their anguish.

A hand on his shoulder yanked Chris from his trance. “Move out of the area.”

“I’m FBI.”

The burly fireman nodded.

“How can I help?” He raised his voice over the tumult of the raging fire, the rush of water pulsing from firemen’s hoses, the crying of hysterical victims, and the shouting of the rescue workers.

“Transport the wounded.”

Chris put aside his own anguish, searching for someone to transport. He didn’t have to look long. He almost stepped on a teenage girl who should have been writhing in pain. The entire left side of her body was singed from the fire. Chris felt bile rise up in his throat, recoiling from the smell of burned flesh.

“Hey.” Chris squatted at her side. “I’m going to help you.”

“I’m okay.” She stared straight ahead.

Chris immediately recognized the signs of shock. He felt rage boil inside of him.
No time for that now, help these people, and then bring those responsible to justice.

“Were you thrown?” Chris asked.

“No,” she said with a slight shake of her head.

Good, no spinal injury.

“What are you doing?” She glanced in his direction, finally seeming to notice him.

“I’m going to get you to a hospital.” Chris lifted her off the ground.

The shock wore off. She screamed, arching away from his touch. “Set me down. Ow!”

She thrashed and squirmed, crying out with ear-shattering intensity. Chris ran with her to a waiting ambulance. He handed her over to an EMT who didn’t even flinch.

He sprinted back to the scene and helped a large middle-aged man named Jacob hobble away from the fire. Jacob’s injuries were mostly to his upper body, so he was able to walk with Chris’s assistance. Chris took him to find an ambulance, but unfortunately the critically injured already filled the available space.

“What’s he supposed to do?” Chris asked one of the EMTs.

“Sorry, he’ll have to wait.”

Chris settled Jacob onto the ground, leaving him with an apology as he went to assist more victims.

Grimacing, Jacob shook Chris’s hand. “I appreciate your help.”

Chris nodded. “I’ll come check on you in a minute.”

He spent the next hour transporting people to ambulances or the waiting line. Most went willingly, some fought like the teenage girl.

Searching the entire time for his friend, he never glimpsed Dylan or his family members.

While escorting an elderly woman, his phone buzzed on his hip. Hope flared within him. Chris swiped his cell without glancing at the caller I.D.

“Dylan?” Chris asked.

“Dylan?” Danielle’s incensed voice crackled through the phone lines. “This is not Dylan. Where are you? I’m at your apartment and you aren’t answering your door.”

“Danielle?” Chris had forgotten all about their date. “Haven’t you heard about the explosion?”

“What does that have to do with you?”

A jolt of anger raced through him. “It has a lot to do with me. It could be terrorist backed.”

“Oh.”

“I’ve got to go. I’ll call you later.”

“But, but...” Danielle sputtered, “What about the day I’ve planned for us?”

Chris bit back an angry retort. “I’ll call you later.”

Her voice softened. “Where are you? I’ll come to you.”

He exhaled. “No, Danielle. I’ll call you tonight.”

He dropped his phone in his pocket before she could protest further. How dare she care more about her day than these victims?

Chris half-carried the frail lady, who was clinging to his arm. She reminded him of his grandmother. A loud clap and the ground vibrating beneath their feet whirled them around. Another explosion hurled more debris into the air. It was far enough away Chris couldn’t see who was impacted by it.

Dylan placed two fingers against the young man’s smooth neck. Not even old enough to grow facial hair. Dylan shook his head. No pulse. Nothing.

Why, Lord
?
His whole life ahead of him
.

“He didn’t make it,” Dylan informed a nearby EMT.

Standing, he stretched his back to ease the ache. Looking for someone in need of his help, he observed rows of stretchers and hundreds of volunteers assisting the emergency personnel. The secondary blast had been in the same spot as the first one so thankfully hadn’t produced much more chaos. The EMTs appeared to have the situation under control.

Dylan felt as if he had been on autopilot for the past two hours. Frantically moving from victim to victim, he helped as many as he could, saying a brief prayer for others as he gently closed their eyes for the last time. The implications of what had happened began to register and he couldn’t stop the shudder that shook his entire frame.

He glanced in sorrow at the wreckage. A solitary tear slid down his cheek. How many had died here today? What was the reason for the explosion? Was it a terrorist act, a random act of violence, an accident? The last two possibilities seemed highly unlikely. He heard a familiar buzzing and realized his cell phone was ringing. He pulled it out.

“Dylan! Where are you?” Chris demanded, “I’ve been calling and looking for you and Rach. I thought, well I was afraid...”

“Chris, you won’t believe this. There was an explosion at the parade, a float, or a car bomb, or something.” The words flew out. Dylan realized he wasn’t making sense. “I can’t begin to describe it. The lives lost, the destruction, the injured people.”

Dylan felt a tear cresting his eyelid. He rubbed his hand across his face. His hand was streaked with blood.
Whose blood?
He couldn’t match a body with the smear. There had been too many.

“I know.” Chris’ voice penetrated his thoughts. “I’m here. I came downtown as soon as I got the call. I was worried about you and your family. I can’t believe I didn’t see you.”

“We were on the west side of the explosion. Where are you?”

“On the east.” Chris exhaled. “How close were you to the detonation?”

“Too close,” Dylan said, unable to elaborate further.

“Rachel and the kids are okay?”

“Yeah, they’re fine. I sent them to the car,” Dylan paused. He needed to find his family, needed to be there for them. “At least I think they’re okay.”

“Dylan,” Chris’s voice broke into his thoughts again. “They hit parades in eight different cities across the country.”

Dylan didn’t need to ask who “they” were. Leaning against a pockmarked Mercedes, he felt his world turn black. How could someone inflict such anguish on other human beings? Why? Dylan knew the answer. He knew the evil some people were capable of, the brainwashing and the religious fanaticism.

“How bad?” he asked, terrified of the answer, yet needing to know.

“We don’t have any numbers yet. They’re estimating over two thousand casualties, and triple that number wounded,” Chris said, his voice low and guarded.

Dylan dug his short fingernails into his palm. “Do you know which cities?”

“No. The agent who I spoke with didn’t specify locations.”

“Is anyone claiming responsibility?”

“Not yet,” Chris said. “Look. I hate to ask this. I know Rachel needs you, but...”

“I know. I’ll meet you at the office as soon as I can.”

“Thanks, I don’t think I can face this alone.” Chris paused, exhaling loudly. “Dylan?”

“Yes?”

“I’m glad you, Rach, and the kids are all right. I was worried. I’m just, grateful you’re okay.”

“Thanks.” Chris’ humble concern elicited more tears. “I’ll see you in an hour or two.”

Dylan pushed end on his phone and made another furtive swipe at the wetness and grime streaking his cheeks. He couldn’t do anymore here. The rescue workers were in control of the situation and it was past time he found his family. Rachel was probably frantic, sitting in a sweltering car for over two hours worrying about him.

Pushing away from the car, he spent his remaining energy running toward his family. Nearing their Camry, he could see Rachel grasping their children firmly in her arms. He gazed at his little family, his heart softening. How could one man be so blessed?

Thank you, Lord, for protecting my family
.

“Rachel,” his voice caught, her name released as a sob when he unlatched the car door.

Rachel leaped from the car into his waiting arms, squeezing the children between them.

“You’re okay.” She glanced over him. “Are you okay?”

He nodded. He must look a mess. “Yes, I’m okay.” He crushed her to him, never wanting to leave her embrace.

“Ouch, Daddy,” Madison cried out. “Not so much love!”

They both smiled at a typical Madison response. She squirmed from their arms. Tyler remained attached to Rachel’s side. Dylan leaned down, kissing the toddler’s soft cheek.

Dylan couldn’t release Rachel. He held on to his lifeline, his hands gently exploring each contour to reassure himself she was okay.

My family is safe. That’s the most important thing. No matter what I have to do, I’m going to catch those responsible. This will not happen again.

Rachel clung to him. “I was so scared.”

“I know, but I’m here now. I’ll take care of you.”

“For how long?” She looked at him with wide eyes.

Dylan cringed. “I have to meet Chris soon.”

She nodded. “Okay.”

He hugged her, ignoring her quivering lip. It wasn’t okay, but he couldn’t do or say anything to make it better.

An older lady stepped out of the passenger side.

Rachel gave her a brave smile. “Dylan, this is our friend, Vivian. We need to get her to District of Columbia Hospital to find her husband.”

Dylan nodded to the woman. “Of course.” His heart swelled with pride, even in the midst of terror, his wife had found someone to help.

ALEXIS rushed around the overflowing emergency room of the District of Columbia General Hospital. Struggling to keep her emotions in check, she assisted the nurses and doctors with the overwhelming volume of injured people flooding into the hospital.

There was no semblance of privacy or bias as the most critically injured people were helped first. A middle-aged man covered with burns died while the nurse administered morphine. A teenage girl with large, brown eyes was killed by debris that pierced vital organs. Alexis watched in helpless agitation. The burned victims were the hardest for her. It was all she could do to not remember.

After several hours, the rush of seriously wounded ebbed to a trickle. The hospital personnel were able to keep on top of the new patients being escorted or carried in. Alexis wandered around the hospital for half an hour, trying to find a way to help.

“Ma’am? Ma’am?”

She turned to face a young nurse with a child clinging to her neck.

“Yes?” Alexis recognized the RN from the branch of the hospital where she had volunteered.

“Can you take care of this little boy for a while? His father is missing, and his mother is critically injured. He wouldn’t leave his mother’s side, and we can’t operate with him there.”

Alexis looked into the little boy’s dark eyes. She feared her heart would be wrenched in two.

“Of course.” She reached out. He buried his head into the nurse’s collarbone. Alexis tried to think of a way to get him to come to her.

“What’s your name?” she asked.

“Jerome,” the nurse answered for the child. “At least we think that’s what he said earlier.”

“Jerome, would you like to come with me and see some new babies?”

A resolute shake of the head, no.

Okay, strike one.

“Have you ever been to the gift shop, Jerome? I bet they have toys there. Maybe we could find you a new toy to play with.”

He wouldn’t even look in her direction.

Strike two.

“At the café they have candy, donuts, pop, anything you want to eat. Would you like me to take you there?”

Lifting his curly head from the nurse’s shoulder, Jerome gazed at Alexis. She guessed he couldn’t be more than four.