Page 17 of Denied Access
“What about that?” David said, gesturing toward the cupboard.
“Leave it,” Joe said. “No chance we’re sneaking out of here now. Besides, the heat and secondary explosions might cause it to explode. Let’s go.”
The thespian frowned but didn’t argue.
Joe understood.
Leaving the bomb felt wrong, but there was nothing he could do. He had come to terms with the idea that his chosen vocation was never going to be without risk, but Joe drew the line at outright suicide.Looping his teammate’s arm over his shoulders, Joe staggered toward the door. The maneuver took a bit more out of him than he’d anticipated.
The world wasn’t spinning, but it had developed a strange tilt.
“Wait,” David said, gesturing at the door as they cleared the bathroom’s threshold.
“Right,” Joe said.
Propping his teammate against the wall, Joe limped back into the bathroom and pulled the door closed. The hardwood frame sported a series of new divots, but the length of oak still swung on its hinges. The shock wave had destroyed the latching mechanism, so it didn’t shut completely, but most of the way closed was better than open. Hopefully the barrier would keep the fire’s heat from the bomb for a bit longer.
David pushed himself from the wall and managed a step before he began to sway. Joe caught his teammate just as he started to crumple. “Easy there, tough guy. No sense bouncing your noggin off the floor. I’m gonna need you awake enough to throw some Russian around once we get outside.”
David grunted something unintelligible, but he quit struggling.
Joe threaded David’s arm over his shoulders a second time and then staggered into the bar proper. A blast of heat greeted him followed by a cloud of choking smoke. The room looked as if it had been hit by a tornado. The island of oak was somewhat recognizable, but what had once been the centerpiece of the establishment now more resembled a pile of scrap lumber. The base was intact, but everything higher than about four feet had been reduced to jagged splinters. A pair of legs lay on the floor like parts from a discarded mannequin, but only bits of gore remained of the bartender’s torso and face.
“Oh, God,” David said.
“Breathe through your mouth and keep moving,” Joe said. “Nothing we can do.”
Tongues of fire were already licking up the wall while separate flaming tentacles stretched for the floorboards. Only a matter of time before the bomb in the cupboard kicked off. Joe was grateful for the goodfortune that had allowed him to survive the first detonation, but anyone who’d done this job more than a day knew that luck was a fickle mistress.
“What about them?”
Joe followed his teammate’s pointing finger and sighed. He’d been focused on the bar’s exit to the exclusion of the rest of the room. He wanted to believe that this was because he was concentrating on navigating the smoke-filled interior as quickly as possible, but this was only partly true. The less noble portion of the explanation was that he couldn’t hold himself responsible for what he didn’t see. Now, thanks to David, he knew about the bodies strewn across the opposite side of the bar. One of which was still twitching. Of all the news guys in the Unit, he was partnered with Jiminy Cricket.
“Lemme get you out. Then I’ll come back for them.”
“Why?”
“Someone needs to tell any Good Samaritans or first responders to stay the hell out of the building because of the second bomb. Any other helpful questions?”
David remained silent. Joe didn’t know if that was because he really didn’t have any more questions or because he was smart enough not to answer.
He’d take the win.
“Check on them now,” David said as he pulled his arm away. “I can make it to the door.”
Joe thought about reminding his teammate that he was in fact the team leader, but he didn’t think it would have done any good. Besides, David was right. The fire would probably prevent him from reentering the bar once he helped David outside. If he intended to assist the other survivors, he had to do so now.
Joe paused to make sure David was capable of getting to the door. His teammate’s steps were unsteady, but he was heading in the right direction, and the door leading outside was already open. Unit operations were often accomplished by two- or three-man teams, and workingunder these conditions was only possible if each team member trusted the other to do their job. David knew his assignment was to get clear of the building and warn first responders about the second bomb.
That was enough for Joe.
Acracksplit the air as another ceiling timber tumbled to the floor. Flames danced along the wood, searching for something else to consume. Between the waiting bomb and the roaring fire, the bar didn’t have long.
Neither did Joe.
Putting a hand to his face, Joe tried to shelter his eyes and mouth as he stumbled toward the prone men. The heat had been present before, but it felt different now. More oppressive. As if he were standing naked beneath the desert sun. Wisps of smoke rose from his sleeves and the hem of his pants. A flaming piece of wood landed on his shirt. Joe beat at the fabric, extinguishing the ember.
He needed to get out of here.
