Fourth of July (4 page)

Alexis ignored him. She gnawed on the inside of her cheek as she gripped the smooth railing, forcing herself not to touch the mutilated skin of her abdomen. The fire and smoke rising above the city seemed to be growing and her back and stomach ached in response.

Chris listened to Canon in D Major as he savored his French toast, bacon, and orange juice. His mother had raised him on classical music and sometimes he allowed himself to listen and remember.

The ringing of the phone shattered his second simple pleasure of the morning. Danielle had interrupted his visions of the Caribbean and now his hot breakfast was in jeopardy.

He glanced at caller I.D. It wasn’t Danielle.

Why would work call him on a holiday? He cleared his throat. “Hello?”

“Agent Harmer, there’s been an explosion downtown. We believe one of the floats in the parade running along Constitution Avenue exploded. The trajectory appears to be the same as what we would expect from a car bomb.”

The man rushed on, but Chris hadn’t heard anything past parade and Constitution Avenue.

“Did you say Constitution Avenue?” Chris’ throat constricted.

“Yes, sir, that’s where the explosion occurred.”

“Have you been in touch with Agent McBride?”
Say yes, please, say yes.

“No. We haven’t been able to reach him on his home phone or his cell.”

“He and his family are there.” Chris jumped from his chair.

“At the parade, sir?”

“Yes.” Chris exhaled, trying to calm himself.

Dylan was probably helping people; that had to be the reason he didn’t answer his phone. Chris’ chest tightened. Dylan
always
answered his phone.

“I’m on my way. I’ll try and get through to Agent McBride. Let me know if you hear from him.”

“Will do, and sir, it’s obviously chaos right now but so far eight other cities have reported parade floats exploding. Possibly a coordinated attack. I’ll contact you with more information soon.”

Chris hung up the phone and ran out his apartment door, the music floated after him. Fear increased the speed of his steps and the desperation in his mind. A coordinated attack spanning several cities? Explosions during each parade? He started compiling a list of possible terrorist cells, but couldn’t stop worrying whether Dylan and his family were safe.

Dylan rushed headlong into the mayhem. He caught glimpses of human pain all around him. A baby shrieked and clung to the bar of the stroller as her mother dodged people. A desperate father carried a child in each arm, both with severe burns on their exposed skin and one with an arm severed at the elbow. People pulled friends and family as far from danger as they could. The elderly plodded along, while the youth ran at full speed. Dylan seemed to be the only one moving toward the horror.

He wanted to turn around and run to his family, but his FBI training kicked in. He focused on what he should do first. They needed to evacuate everyone within a five hundred yard radius, but most people were doing that willingly. He ushered a few spectators with minor injuries back to their feet, and helped them get moving again.

Dylan glimpsed a panicked group of people trampling an older man. “Watch out!” He screamed. His mouth filled with black smoke.

He coughed and spat. “Get off of him. Move!”

He lowered his shoulder to clear a path. Dylan threw two people out of his way. The rest scattered, eyeing him with apprehension. Dylan bent close to the fallen man.

“Can you stand?” he asked.

“I’ll try,” he wheezed.

Dylan did a quick scan then helped him to a vertical position. Two teenagers rushed past. Dylan grabbed the taller boy’s forearm, halting both of them.

“Take him to the EMTs.”

They hesitated half a second, glancing at each other.

“Now!”

The boys chair-lifted the man off his feet and continued their sprint.

A woman flailed into Dylan, her clothing consumed with flames. Screaming for help, her desperate movements fueled the out-of-control blaze. The acrid smell of seared flesh burned Dylan’s nostrils. He threw her to the ground, forcing her to roll on the sooty asphalt. When he was convinced the fire was out, he helped her to a waiting ambulance, and moved on.

A man reclined on a camp chair with blood spurting from his severed leg. The man had a toddler propped on his other leg and was singing to him, “Take one down, pass it around, ninety-one bottles of beer on the wall…” The little boy’s dirty face split into a grin.

Ignoring the pain where his palms had been burned, Dylan applied pressure with his fingers to the jagged stump. He stopped the blood pulsating from the man’s artery—unsanitary, but effective. “Your son?” he asked the man.

The guy grimaced at the force on his leg and shook his head. “No, just wandering around. Poor kid.”

Dylan thought immediately of Tyler. Where were this boy’s parents?

He felt a moment of relief when rescue workers arrived on the scene. The firemen’s shouts could be heard over the screams of terror.

Rachel’s maternal instincts kicked in full gear. Her rubbery legs found renewed strength as she ran to keep pace with the crowd of people sweeping past her. It was up to her to protect her children.

I can’t believe Dylan left us.
The anger almost overcame her.

It’s his job to help others; even if it wasn’t his job, he’s the kind of man who will always be a hero. You can do this.

Terrified spectators flooded past her as she struggled the few blocks separating her from her car and safety.

“Mommy!” Madison screamed. “Let go. You’re holding my arm too tight.”

“No!” was all Rachel could manage.

Madison’s loud wails of protest mingled with the shrieks of horror from the crowd pulsating around them. Rachel glanced at Tyler, his blue eyes were wide and tears streamed down his cheeks. She almost crumbled. Missing a step, she barely righted herself. Her heart beat harder at the near fall. If she couldn’t stay upright, they would be trampled.

Her grip was slipping. She was going to lose Ty.

I can’t do this! Help me, Lord.

She hefted him higher on her hip, continually praying as she pressed on and dragged Madison along.

Rachel’s legs throbbed and her arm was almost numb from cradling Tyler. She half ran, half hobbled towards safety. Her breath came in heaving sobs.

She sidestepped around an older lady. Guilt assaulted her. She slowed her steps and turned to the woman. “Are you okay?”

The lady’s perfectly-styled hair was singed. She visibly shook. “I don’t know where my husband is.”

Rachel propped Ty higher and instructed Maddie. “Hold onto me and Ty.” Maddie somehow understood and shifted to Rachel’s other side. People streamed around them, some cussing them for making a blockade. Rachel ignored them and grasped the woman’s elbow. “Let’s get away from this crowd then we’ll find your husband.”

“Thank you.”

The older lady slowed their steps, but thankfully no one knocked their little group over and Madison stayed pressed against her mom’s side and Tyler’s leg.

“I’m Rachel,” she yelled over the stomping of feet, yelling of rescue workers, and crying of victims coming from behind them.

“Vivian.” The woman pressed her arm and forced a smile.

They finally reached the car. Vivian’s phone rang. “Hello. James?” Tears coursed down her face. “You’re at the hospital?”

She talked for a minute longer before hanging up. “He’s at the hospital, but he promised me he’s okay.”

Rachel pressed the unlock button, opening the door with trembling fingers. “Well, we’ll have to find a way to get you there.” But one look at streets clogged with emergency vehicles and people told her they weren’t going anywhere soon.

She ushered Vivian into the passenger seat, then just collapsed into the driver’s side with Tyler in her arms. Madison climbed in next to them and Rachel shut the door.

She started the car and turned up the air conditioningWilting into the upholstered seat, tears flowed down Rachel’s face. She and Vivian stared out the car windows at people streaming past, some of them burned, many with cuts, all covered with soot. Feeling numb and confused, Rachel couldn’t think how to calm her children’s frantic crying and get Vivian to her husband. Her mind was too consumed trying to grasp the explosion and suffering she had just witnessed.

What had happened? An accident? Terrorists? How many people were killed? How many injured? How many would be without their loved ones tonight?

Boom! Rachel sucked in air and craned her neck to peek out the window. The blast was far enough away they didn’t feel it, but she could see more smoke and rubble thrown into the air. No!

She glanced back at Vivian who just watched her with an open mouth.

Dylan!
An overwhelming fear pressed in on her. What would happen to him?

Please Lord, keep him safe. I can’t survive without him.

Rachel couldn’t control the torrent. She wept and prayed for her husband’s safety, the wounded, and the loved ones of those who were killed.

Sobs overwhelmed her for several minutes until Madison’s cries finally took precedence. Rachel’s weeping subsided to an occasional sniffle as she cradled Madison and Tyler in her arms.

Madison howled almost as loud as her mother had been a few moments before. Tyler was silent; a few tears trickled out as he sucked ferociously on his thumb.

Did they realize what had just happened? Would her children be scarred for life? Did the second blast hurt Dylan? She kept trying to convince herself it was farther away, but she couldn’t judge the distance.

Rachel controlled the tears threatening to resurface. She and her family were seconds away from being charred. She realized she was shaking. Was she in shock?

I can’t let the children think they are unsafe. Oh, Father, help me stay in control.

She attempted several shaky inhalations to calm herself. Vivian smiled at her with understanding and didn’t say anything. Focusing her attention on her son and daughter, Rachel felt almost grateful to have a distraction from her grief. Stroking Madison’s back to soothe her hysterical crying, Rachel held Tyler against her chest.

“Daddy. Daddy. I want my daddy,” Madison wailed.

“I know sweetie, I know.”
Believe me, I know
.
“
Daddy’s helping people who are hurt right now. Why don’t we say a prayer for Daddy and the people who are injured?”

Rachel was already pleading fervently for Dylan. Like so many times before, she was worried sick about him. This time she knew her fears were warranted.

Madison’s cries calmed as she whispered, “Dear Father who art in Heaven, please bless my daddy. He’s the best daddy in the whole world...”

She finished her prayer and Rachel turned to Vivian. “I’m sorry. We might be stuck here for a bit.”

Vivian patted her arm. “It’s okay, sweetheart. James is okay and we’re in this nice air-conditioned car. Thank you for helping me. We can just wait for your husband. By the time he comes the streets might be passable.”

Rachel nodded at her new friend, but didn’t tell her. It might be a long wait.