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Norfolk, Virginia
10 months ago
Lieutenant Dean Ryder opened the door to the glass refrigerated case and pulled out a large bottle of water. Turning away, he let it close behind him as he made his way to the front of the small convenience store attached to the gas station. Fluorescent lighting bathed the store in bright, white light, completely at odds with the stormy weather outside. It was just after six in the morning, but the low, black clouds hanging over the region made the sun invisible. They were calling for thunderstorms all day and, judging by the wind picking up outside, the first had almost arrived.
Moving to a large island near the front of the store, he grabbed an empty twenty-ounce coffee cup and heat sleeve. Setting his bottle of water down, he went over to the stainless steel vat of French roast and pulled the lever, filling his cup with strong, black coffee. The front door to the store chimed and he glanced up as two sailors in fatigues walked in, one heading over to the coffee island. Dean finished filling his cup and reached for a lid. When he turned away from the coffee urn, the sailor caught sight of his rank and nodded respectfully.
“Good morning, sir,” the sailor said, passing him on his way to the row of coffee urns.
“Morning.”
He turned to go to the counter, getting behind the other sailor at the register. The young man asked for a pack of cigarettes, and Dean watched the cashier turn to get them from the wall behind the counter. Stifling a yawn, he gulped down some coffee. It wasn’t particularly early for him, but the weather outside was challenging his motivation to begin the day. Still, he reflected dryly, it could be worse. He could still be in Afghanistan, and it could be a sandstorm outside.
Behind the counter, below the cigarettes, a TV was broadcasting a morning show and he watched it absently as the cashier rang up the kid in front of him. The program was interrupted suddenly when a bright red “Breaking News” alert flashed across the top of the screen. The picture abruptly changed to the image of a newscaster with a very somber expression.
“We’re interrupting your program to bring you breaking news live. Just half an hour ago, the US embassy in New Delhi, India, was wracked by a massive explosion,” he announced somberly. “While the exact cause of the explosion is not confirmed, initial reports are that a bomb has been detonated inside the embassy.”
Dean’s brows snapped together into a scowl and he looked at the cashier.
“Hey buddy, can you turn that up?” he asked.
The cashier glanced behind him and nodded, turning to raise the volume on the TV. He finished handing the young sailor his change, then turned his attention back to the news. The sailor never took his eyes from the TV as the three men watched together, not moving.
“The explosion occurred just before three pm, when the embassy was fully staffed.” The image on the TV changed from the newscaster to a live feed of the embassy in India. Dean’s lips tightened at the sight of the flames and smoke pouring from the building as first responders swarmed outside, trying to extinguish the flames. “This is live footage of the scene in New Delhi. Firefighting crews are battling to get the flames under control, and we’re told that they’ve been unable to get inside to look for survivors. While the exact cause of the explosion is still unconfirmed, witnesses on the ground in New Delhi described the initial explosion as having all the trademarks of a very powerful bomb. Reports are already surfacing of a possible connection to Masha’al Al-Amin, a Palestinian extremist who’s already claimed responsibility for three other bombings in the past six months, all on American targets.”
“Could’ve been a gas leak,” the young sailor muttered. “What do they know about bomb explosions?”
Probably more than you, Dean thought as the sailor moved away from the register. He moved forward and set his water and coffee down on the counter.
“As of this moment, we have no word yet on fatalities but the number is expected to be high. We will, of course, keep you up to date on developments as this story unfolds.” The screen switched back to the morning show and Dean shook his head.
“Well, that’s a great ‘good morning’,” he said. “I’ve also got pump two.”
The cashier turned back to the register. “It’s getting so that every day there’s something else happening,” he said, pressing some buttons on the touch screen and then reaching for the bottle of water to scan it. “Now an embassy? How did they get inside our embassy? I’m telling you, the damn terrorists are everywhere now.”
“I guess you don’t think it was a gas leak,” Dean said dryly.
The other man snorted. “In that part of world? My bet is on terrorists.” He looked at Dean. “That’ll be forty-three seventy-five.”
Dean nodded and passed him a crisp fifty-dollar bill. His eyes strayed back to the TV, but the morning show was droning on about an upcoming flower exhibition. He’d turn on the radio in the truck on his way to the base. He didn’t expect to learn much more, not when they were still battling the flames, but he would listen anyway.
“Thanks.”
He nodded to the cashier and pocketed his change, then picked up his water and coffee and turned towards the door. His bet was on a bomb as well. He’d seen enough bomb damage in his career to know the signs. The embassy was fully involved, which meant it had been placed in a central position to do maximum damage. Dean had no idea how many people the embassy in India employed, but he knew that it wouldn’t be a low number, not on a Wednesday afternoon in April. From the brief glimpse he’d had on that small TV, it looked as if the body count would be very high.
And if that was the case, there would be nowhere the terrorist could hide where they wouldn’t find him.
