Stopping before reaching the door to the restaurant, Stephen turned to Peter and started to say something when they both sensed the roar of the explosion rather than hearing it.
A gigantic force smashed against their backs, raised them into the air and threw them across the sidewalk as a brilliant flash of white light surrounded them, blinding them to their surroundings. Invisible pavement grabbed at their skin as they belly-flopped onto the street and slid across the concrete, finally rolling the last few feet. A tidal wave of hot air rushed over them and stunning pain cut into their bodies, burning deeply everywhere.
Air was pulled from Stephen’s lungs and he struggled, unable to get a breath. He felt like he was on fire.
Forcing his eyes open, Stephen’s mind raced over incomplete thoughts as he tried to look around and comprehend what had happened. He started shaking from within, unable to focus on anything more than a few feet away. Unconnected images flashed before his face, out of order.
He and Peter were enjoying their lunch. Stephen poured the wine and handed a glass to Sheryl, who was standing beside the table at last night’s restaurant. Smiling, she tasted the wine, set the glass down, and offered her hand to Stephen. Taking her hand, Stephen led her to the dance floor, turned, and took Samantha into his arms.
Colorful birds sang their melodious delight, fluttering in soft sunlight above while the pale blue sky yielded to exploding cannons thundering in distant fields as they sped closer and closer to UN Headquarters.
The mental fog began dissipating and he felt the concrete beneath him. I’m lying in the street. As his vision began clearing, he discerned debris scattered all around him, while objects in the distance remained blurry.
Using his hands and arms, he checked himself, but there was no flame, no fire. Just pain. He remembered Peter and shouted his name. No answer.
He forced himself to roll over and attempted to stand, but didn’t have enough strength and fell back to the concrete. He looked around again, calling Peter’s name. Still no reply.
Wet and sticky all over, every part of him hurt. Raising his hand to his face, Stephen discovered he had blood spread all over him. Lifting his head, he called, “Peter! Peter, where are you? Are you okay?” Still no response.
He thought he heard a car start up nearby. The blurry shape of a huge maroon SUV pulled away from the curb and accelerated down the street, moving away quickly.
He closed his eyes and thought, That can’t be Peter. He wouldn’t leave in a hurry like that. He wouldn’t leave me here. He tried to make a face, but everything hurt too much. “Peter,” he screamed. “Where are you?”
Finally managing to stand, he felt a bit woozy, not sure of his balance. A hand grabbed his arm. “Here, let me help you.”
Squinting, he could see someone standing there looking at him. The younger man asked, “Are you all right, sir? Are you hurt badly?”
Stephen attempted to shake his head. “No. I ... I think ... I’m okay ... nothing serious.”
“Okay. I’m going to let go, now. Can you stand? I need to help your friend over there on the ground.”
Stephen’s vision began clearing more and he saw the young man bend over a man’s body, also covered in blood, lying a few feet away on the sidewalk. He was not moving. Stephen took a couple shaky steps toward the reclining figure and stopped.
“Oh no! Peter!”
Stephen felt another man’s hands take hold of his arms from behind. “It’s okay. We called 911. An ambulance and the police are on the way.”
Stephen thought he nodded his head, but couldn’t be sure. He closed his eyes. The air smelled like a big fireworks show had just ended. He felt his strength slipping away from his body.
Slowly slumping to the ground, Stephen realized he was crying. The young man turned back to him. “He’s alive. For now. Sir ... “ Stephen looked up. “He’s hurt, but alive.” Stephen managed a half-smile. He was still sitting on the sidewalk crying when the ambulance arrived.
“Some friend you are.” Smirking, Stephen stood at the end of the hospital bed and winked at Peter. “You scared the shit out of me. I thought you were dead.”
Lying in the hospital bed, Peter had both arms partially wrapped in bandages, only exposing the skin on his lower left arm where the IV was connected. “Yeah, well that’s what you get for taking me to that place for lunch.”
Blinking a couple of times, Peter acted as if his eyes lost focus for a minute. “My head hurts like hell. Did they give me something for this killer headache?”
“I don’t know,” Stephen replied. “But they’ve got you wrapped up like you’re wearing some kind of turban or something.”
“Well, you don’t look so good yourself, my friend.” He tried to point, but the bandages stopped him. Wincing, he moaned and said, “All those bandages on your arm. And you’re wearing a head dress, too. What do you say about that?”
“Hmph. You’re right, we both look like a mess.”
“Yes. You may have had a few stitches, but I’m confined to this wonderful bed for a little while.”
“Yes, but you have all the good-looking women on staff waiting on you. What a guy.”
“Well, that may be true, but if this headache doesn’t let up soon, I’m going to ask for some more of whatever they have.” He looked at Stephen. “And I’m telling them to put it on your bill.” He tried to smile. “You and your Israeli friends,” Peter said playfully. “And I don’t want to spend lunch with any of your Palestinian friends, either.”
“Don’t worry. That’s not until next week.” They both laughed, and Stephen sat down beside the bed to visit with his friend.
“You have to admit it was a good lunch.”
“Yes, that’s true.” Peter replied. "That was a great steak.” He sighed. “Too bad there’s not enough left of the place to go there again.” He managed to point at Stephen. “It’s a damned good thing we walked out of there when we did.”
“Yes, and I’m glad we didn’t talk longer with the Israelis.” Stephen raised his left hand and used his finger to trace along the scar extending from his eyebrow to his hairline. “But then if we did, we wouldn’t get to wear these fancy hospital gowns.”
“You mean if we did, we wouldn’t be wearing anything.” Peter paused and nodded, “Did you get a chance to call Olivia and Sheryl?”
“Yes. I told them we were both okay, but knowing them, they’ll both be here shortly.” Stephen tried to cross his legs, but winced from the pain and decided against it. “I suppose they’re going to want to keep us here overnight for observation.”
Peter nodded. “Probably. It’s a wonder we weren’t hurt any worse. The explosion demolished that whole building. The TV news said they’re still searching for survivors.”
“Yes, I heard that, too. It appears everyone inside the restaurant was killed in the explosion. They don’t even know how many people were there yet, only that the place was packed. The casualty numbers are going to be pretty high. The explosion was so large it knocked down the wall to the store next door and injured several people there.”
Peter concurred. “Those poor people didn’t even know what hit them. We were lucky, just far enough out the door to survive.” He waved his finger at Stephen. “There are better ways to enjoy an afternoon off. This is not what I had in mind.”
“Don’t I know it.” Glancing over at Peter, he added, “I bet we can’t even get room service to bring us our favorite drink.”
“Yeah, or peanuts either.” Peter shook his head, rather slowly. “What kind of rinky-dink place is this?”
“You’re sure you’re all right?”
“Doc said ‘No broken bones, just a lot of cuts and some serious scrapes.’” Peter grimaced. “I didn’t require stitches like you did.”
“Yeah. Guess I was too close to the door. I shouldn’t have gone back. My papers are gone now, anyway.”
“I’m glad you didn’t get inside. Papers are replaceable.” He sighed. “"Oh, well. We’re both going to be pretty sore for quite awhile. What a way to remember lunch.”
Stephen turned to look out the window. After a moment of silence, he said, “You know, Peter, this is really unusual. It was too big a blast to be aimed at just one person.” He paused. “Organized crime hits are more personal. They want to send a message when they do something, not like this. This is more like a terrorist act of some type.”
“You mean like the bombing at the Boston Marathon?”
“No.” Stephen shook his head. “Even that was more limited. This was a larger effort. It’s more like what you experience in the Middle East.”
“Don’t forget, we’ve had a couple of pretty big attacks here in the last few years.”
"Yes, I guess you’re right.” He took a deep breath. Shaking his head, he added, “But it doesn’t seem right.” Stephen appeared to look beyond Peter. “The explosion happened right after the Israelis entered the place, like some Palestinian terrorists planned to kill as many Israelis as they could, all at once.”
Peter frowned. “But this is New York, buddy. That was not a sidewalk cafe in Tel Aviv.” He retrieved his cell phone off the table beside the bed. “Stephen, if what you say is correct, there may be a whole lot more problems coming our way, and soon.” He started to dial. “There are some people I think we need to talk to.”
“And who might that be?” Olivia asked as she and Sheryl entered the hospital room.
Peter pressed the off button on the handset and returned his phone to the bedside table. Olivia walked around the bed and up beside Peter, while Sheryl moved to Stephen. Both women gave their man a hug.
“Ouch,” Stephen jumped. “Not so hard, sweetheart. Save that for later, when I’m well.”
“Okay, sorry.” She tilted her head, giving him a mischievous look. “But just remember when it’s time, you asked for it.”
He smiled and nodded. “I’ll enjoy it later.”
Olivia put her hand on Peter’s shoulder. “You sure you’re all right? You’re not hurt?”
“Yeah. You guys have bandages, bruises and scratches all over,” Sheryl chimed in. “You both look terrible.”
Peter looked at Olivia and said, “I’m all right, honey.” She pulled a chair up close to the bed, and Peter continued. “The doc said I had a little concussion. There shouldn’t be any complications or lasting problems as a result.” He managed a small smile. “Besides, you know me. I’m too hard-headed.”
Olivia nodded. “I discovered that fact already.” She looked at him questioningly. “Sure you’re okay?”
“Yes, dear. I’m okay. I’d show you all my cuts and bruises, but I’d better wait till we’re home alone.”
Sheryl glanced at Stephen. “Do I get to see yours later?”
“Later.”
“I think you two were rather lucky,” Olivia observed. “According to the news, this whole thing was pretty horrible. They don’t think anyone inside the restaurant could have survived.”
“We had just left the restaurant,” Peter announced. “Our timing was good.” He paused a moment. “We really wanted to see you ladies again. That’s better than any lunch.”
“"I’ll say,” replied Sheryl. “It’s too early in any of our relationships to end now.” She made a funny face. “There’s too much good stuff still to happen.”
Olivia sat back in her chair. “So, any idea what this was all about?” She glanced at Peter. “You were about to call someone when we entered. Who was that?”
Stephen looked at Sheryl. “Peter is advisor to the Senate Intelligence Committee. He knows all sorts of people. FBI, CIA, NSA.” He waved his hand through the air, “CBC, XYZ, ABC and a lot of other secret types.” He grinned. “We can’t tell you who they all are.”
“I know,” Sheryl responded. “If you told us, you’d have to kill us, right?”
“Only with laughter.” Olivia eyes twinkled as she smiled.
“But,” Peter lifted a finger in the air to make his point, “the people I know are friendly. Some other people I know are friends with terrorist types.”
“What can I say,” answered Stephen. “They’ve been good to me, and sometimes a real help.” He shrugged. “They just grew up on the wrong side of the tracks.”
Peter shook his head. “Right.”
“"So who were you going to call, Peter?” Olivia inquired.
“Stephen thinks this might have been the work of some foreign activists.” He glanced over at Stephen. “Not his friends.” He turned back to his wife. “He has some good reasons for that idea. I was going to call some people in Homeland Security, so we could share his ideas.”
“Can’t it wait till you’re better?”
“I don’t know.” Stephen shook his head gently.
“If he’s right,” Peter added, “there may be a lot more trouble headed our way. We can’t take the chance.”
Stephen retrieved a chair for Sheryl and they both sat down. “It may be nothing, but there’s something very different about this bombing. Peter and I need to discuss it with someone more knowledgeable than we are.”
“We’ll make an appointment a little later,” Peter added, “and see them in a day or two.”
Sheryl reached over and took Stephen’s hand. When Stephen turned to meet her eyes, she implored, “Please tell me this is not another one of those big, crazy events in your life like your last adventure. It isn’t, is it?”
“No,” Stephen snickered. “You don’t have to worry. I won’t do anything like that again.”