The Bomb

I lifted her gently putting pressure on the front and back of her body to stop the now slow spurting of blood from her wounds. The movement roused her she looked into my eyes.

“Bronson” she said softly, choking on the foam.

In short gasps with a frothy slurring, “Say hi, to your wife, Alexander said she was beautiful.”

My wife!?

Her eyes became more glassy and slid off my face; the pumping of blood from Jewels wounds ended.

Standing up, I looked about. I felt like I was in the twilight zone. Everyone was still celebrating New Years Eve; no one had noticed the death. My team radioed me.

Alexander had been spotted and shot at as he pulled something out of his pocket and aimed it at the ambulance. The bullet only hit the edge of his shoulder but it made him drop it. Running with blood dripping, he made it to his car and eluded pursuit.

Later we inspected what he had dropped as he escaped. It was a small transmitter, rigged to blow the ambulance by remote control. He had wired the bombs on the bottom as well as the top. It would have been impossible for me to disarm the second bomb detonators. We’d all be dead, if he hadn’t been seen and shot. The people of Seattle were lucky, was I?