visit Dad again first. You want to come with me?”
Arriving in the parking lot, Billy couldn’t miss the crime scene. Police cars were huddled around the hospital. Around the eastern wing, stretchers kept leaving the hospital, bodies draped over by blankets. He counted eight before he charged toward the entrance. The police blockades halted him. An officer seized his arm. “Whoa, this is a crime scene.”
Nelson restrained him so the cop could let him go. “Calm down, Billy. We’ll figure this out. Who knows what this is about? Maybe the kind officer will fill us in.”
Officer Neiman looked them up and down. “Do you have a loved one inside?”
Billy nodded. “Yes, he’s on the recovery floor.”
The officer’s eyes tensed. “You’re going to have to wait like everybody else. I’m sorry about this, I really am. I’ve got hundreds of people breathing down my neck. This is an official crime scene. You’ll be allowed access inside hopefully by the end of the day.”
“I just want to know if my dad’s safe. Is that too much to ask? Wouldn’t you want to know? Couldn’t I call somebody inside—a doctor or a nurse?” They kept carting out covered bodies. “How many are dead? Is this another terrorist act?”
The officer was confused. “Terrorist act?”
“Yeah, like the guy who blew himself up yesterday?”
Officer Neiman sharpened his voice. “You two have to go or else I’ll have a police officer escort you. Which do you prefer?”
Nelson dragged him from the police line. “Sorry, officer, he’s had a few shitty days under his belt.”
“Yeah, me too, fella. Now get movin’.”
Billy’s legs were numb. He feared so many things. Was his father one of the bodies being driven from the hospital? Would he be contacted if his dad was dead?—and if so, when? And what if his dad was perfectly safe? When could Billy enter the hospital and see him again?
Nelson sensed his apprehension. He patted his back and sat him on a nearby bench. “Breathe, man, just breathe.”
“I have a bad feeling. Like yesterday watching that man explode. Fine, I’ll admit it. I still think it looks like the guy from that movie. What does that mean, I don’t have a clue, but it’s been staying with me. And then my dad being attacked at work, and now bodies coming out of the hospital. Maybe Jessica’s right. I’m flipping out. I’m losing it.”
“Your reaction is healthy. You’re acting better than I would in your position. Let’s take this one step at a time—”
“I have to get up there and find out if my dad's safe.”
“The cops will bust your balls. That line is pretty solid. Nobody’s getting through.”
“That’s because there’s some serious shit going down. Did you see that officer’s eyes wince when I mentioned my dad was on the fourth floor?”
“Who knows what the guy was thinking? Maybe he has to take a leak or something.”
“I want to know, damn it. This is my father’s life we’re talking about.”
Nelson gave him his support. “Then how do you suppose we cross that line?”
Billy threw up his hands. “I don’t know.”
They sat quietly on the bench. Billy stood and stretched to alleviate the tension in his body. When he sat back down, they were both covered up by an encroaching shadow that blocked out the sun.
Frank Zimmerman was rudely awakened in his apartment when the ceiling caved in. The room was split in half in two seconds, everything around him crashing down and collapsing. Panhandler Jonas Allan was asleep on a bench at Maywood Park, tucked in under the Thursday edition of the Chicago Sun-Times . Before he could make sense of the shadow eclipsing the sun, the edge of the bone dome landed on his torso. Squashed to the ground, pinned, his bottom half was cut off and remained outside of the dome. The elevated train crashed nose first into the bone wall, the ensuing explosion and fire engulfing its passengers. The morning traffic on the interstate
Arriving in the parking lot, Billy couldn’t miss the crime scene. Police cars were huddled around the hospital. Around the eastern wing, stretchers kept leaving the hospital, bodies draped over by blankets. He counted eight before he charged toward the entrance. The police blockades halted him. An officer seized his arm. “Whoa, this is a crime scene.”
Nelson restrained him so the cop could let him go. “Calm down, Billy. We’ll figure this out. Who knows what this is about? Maybe the kind officer will fill us in.”
Officer Neiman looked them up and down. “Do you have a loved one inside?”
Billy nodded. “Yes, he’s on the recovery floor.”
The officer’s eyes tensed. “You’re going to have to wait like everybody else. I’m sorry about this, I really am. I’ve got hundreds of people breathing down my neck. This is an official crime scene. You’ll be allowed access inside hopefully by the end of the day.”
“I just want to know if my dad’s safe. Is that too much to ask? Wouldn’t you want to know? Couldn’t I call somebody inside—a doctor or a nurse?” They kept carting out covered bodies. “How many are dead? Is this another terrorist act?”
The officer was confused. “Terrorist act?”
“Yeah, like the guy who blew himself up yesterday?”
Officer Neiman sharpened his voice. “You two have to go or else I’ll have a police officer escort you. Which do you prefer?”
Nelson dragged him from the police line. “Sorry, officer, he’s had a few shitty days under his belt.”
“Yeah, me too, fella. Now get movin’.”
Billy’s legs were numb. He feared so many things. Was his father one of the bodies being driven from the hospital? Would he be contacted if his dad was dead?—and if so, when? And what if his dad was perfectly safe? When could Billy enter the hospital and see him again?
Nelson sensed his apprehension. He patted his back and sat him on a nearby bench. “Breathe, man, just breathe.”
“I have a bad feeling. Like yesterday watching that man explode. Fine, I’ll admit it. I still think it looks like the guy from that movie. What does that mean, I don’t have a clue, but it’s been staying with me. And then my dad being attacked at work, and now bodies coming out of the hospital. Maybe Jessica’s right. I’m flipping out. I’m losing it.”
“Your reaction is healthy. You’re acting better than I would in your position. Let’s take this one step at a time—”
“I have to get up there and find out if my dad's safe.”
“The cops will bust your balls. That line is pretty solid. Nobody’s getting through.”
“That’s because there’s some serious shit going down. Did you see that officer’s eyes wince when I mentioned my dad was on the fourth floor?”
“Who knows what the guy was thinking? Maybe he has to take a leak or something.”
“I want to know, damn it. This is my father’s life we’re talking about.”
Nelson gave him his support. “Then how do you suppose we cross that line?”
Billy threw up his hands. “I don’t know.”
They sat quietly on the bench. Billy stood and stretched to alleviate the tension in his body. When he sat back down, they were both covered up by an encroaching shadow that blocked out the sun.
Frank Zimmerman was rudely awakened in his apartment when the ceiling caved in. The room was split in half in two seconds, everything around him crashing down and collapsing. Panhandler Jonas Allan was asleep on a bench at Maywood Park, tucked in under the Thursday edition of the Chicago Sun-Times . Before he could make sense of the shadow eclipsing the sun, the edge of the bone dome landed on his torso. Squashed to the ground, pinned, his bottom half was cut off and remained outside of the dome. The elevated train crashed nose first into the bone wall, the ensuing explosion and fire engulfing its passengers. The morning traffic on the interstate
Similar Books
