LIFERS Chapter Fifty Two

After Nick rammed the truck-bomb through the cinema doors he reversed back into the alley and picked up his remote detonating device from the seat next to him. He flipped open the small plastic cover and took one last look at the cinema and the gaping hole he’d just put in the front of the building when something occurred to him.

They weren’t on the seat next to his detonator, and he doesn't remember picking them up from the oil drum, which could only mean his camera and photographs were still in the garage. He couldn't believe that after all he’d gone through to get evidence of what happened over one night in Martinsville, he was about to lose the lot.

He went to climb from the cab to retrieve them when reality slapped him about the face with a pretty rough hand, it pained him to admit it, but blowing up the cinema and ridding the world of these things was far more important than his photographs and camera.

He looked once more at the building he was about to obliterate, and then, in his best gangster voice, said, ‘So long, ya Mudda-fuckers,’ and pressed the little red button.

Before Nick had chance to lift his finger from the remote device, he saw the 4x4 slide to a halt in front of the cinema, which, as far as he could remember, was certainly not part of the plan Gregg and he went through. Gregg was supposed to get back to the bottom of the street after the bomb had gone off, not before, and most definitely not in its blast radius.

He climbed from the tow-truck and shouted and waved his arms aloft like an angry Ground Marshall at an airport for him to get out of the way. The bomb was about to blow and he was far too close for comfort. He saw Gregg climb from the 4x4 and shout something back at him. But before he could grasp what was said, a high pitched tweak sounded, followed by an enormous boom.

Gregg was lifted from the ground and thrown against the courthouse wall fifty feet away; cinema debris soon followed and buried him beneath it. Nick was also lifted by the blast and blown down the alley along the side of the tow-truck.

The 4x4 rose from the ground and spun a number of times before it fell to the floor on its roof. The windows on all the facing buildings were blown in by the blast and the stores and the garage either side of the cinema were demolished. Part of the roof of the police station and courtroom was blown off and large splatters of paraffin oil dotted the whole area, some of it still burning, most of it not.

The cinema had been completely levelled by the explosion which left a seven-foot-deep crater where the truck had come to a stop. The paraffin oil ignited momentarily along with the fuel from the gas tanks, but both were extinguished due to the deoxygenated pressure wave created by the exploding compressed air cylinders. It was the shock-wave of the blast alone that was responsible for wiping out the entire townsfolk of Martinsville, none of whom survived.

Nick scrambled to his feet and felt incredible pain in his right arm and collarbone. He also had a foot-long jagged piece of metal pushed through his right thigh and suffered many superficial cuts to his face. His glasses had been dislodged as he tumbled along the alleyway and were now lost, but at least he survived the blast.

He doubted Gregg stood any chance of survival being as close as he was to the bomb, but in the end he supposed it saved him the darker decision of using his last bullet.

He stumbled back to the street and called for Gregg on the off-chance he did survive but didn’t get an answer. What he heard however was the sound of rotor-blades chopping the air above, followed a few seconds later by the distant but unmistakable wail of emergency sirens.

He cradled his right arm in his left in the middle of Main Street surrounded by blast debris, body-parts, and wrecked buildings as he watched the helicopter swoop low overhead. Then five State Police patrol vehicles, two ambulances, and a silver Bentley came to a stop at the edge of the debris field, all followed by a white van with damaged rear doors and one busted headlight.

..

Jill climbed from the van after she instructed Alicia to stay put and ran past a half dozen policemen who were stood around wondering what the hell just happened.

‘Where’s Gregg?’ she shouted.

Nick shrugged, then seemed to regret the action. ‘He was standing right here when it blew.’

Jill saw the cuts to his face, the piece of metal protruding from his leg, and how he held his arm. She turned to the police officers and paramedics. ‘Hey, you guys,’ she called, ‘Can we get some help over here?’

Two paramedics, followed by three police officers, scrambled across the rubble and made their way over to Nick. Jill looked around, flicked her gaze from body-part to body-part in the hope that none of them belonged to Gregg. Then, between her and the courtroom, and mixed in with broken bits of the cinema, she saw a black boot. She picked it up and looked over at the pile of rubble strewn against the courtroom wall where she noticed the toe-part of a white sock. She dropped the boot, ran the short distance, and shouted for help along the way.

She’d already started to remove bits of debris when two paramedics came to help. After a minute they found Gregg face down and motionless. One of them felt for a pulse, but the grim expression he gave his colleague told Jill it wasn’t good news.

They turned him face up and the one who checked his vital signs began CPR whilst the other ran back to the ambulance. Jill looked on helpless; her throat cramped when she tried to swallow and her eyes made a pathetic attempt to blink back tears as she watched the paramedic’s efforts of resuscitation.

His colleague returned and dropped a stretcher beside Gregg and opened up a large red and white picnic-like hamper. From it he pulled two silver-bottomed pads connected by two coiled wires and squirted a clear gel on one of them then rubbed them together.

..

Larry and Celia climbed from the Bentley and they too looked around in wonderment. Celia walked over to where a girl of about twenty was standing with two paramedics who were seeing to a man on the floor. One of the police officers on the edge of the debris field gave a stern shout for her to come back, but with a dismissive wave over her shoulder, she carried on. And when she reached the young girl and the paramedics, she recognised the man being treated and beckoned for Larry to join her.

..

Larry arrived to see them use a portable defibrillator to resuscitate Gregg. He, Celia, and a young girl with dark hair who looked to be wearing a soaking wet poncho, watched as Gregg’s body jolted from the electricity being pumped into his chest.

Once, twice, three times.

One paramedic reached out and took Gregg’s wrist. ‘Okay,’ he said. ‘We got a pulse, it’s weak, but it’s there.’