Page 70 of Shrapnel

Hands intertwined, they seemed to be dancing in place as the old priest went through the whole song and dance. Noah was too far back to hear it clearly, but that was ok. He would rather look at their faces. Faces could tell him what words couldn’t.

She couldn’t keep a heavenly smile off her face, and he couldn’t take his eyes off her. To Noah, that was worth more than a thousand prayers and blessings.

He really missed Elijah.

Noah was aware his relationship with Elijah wasn’t the norm. Ignoring the fact that they were two men, they were criminals. Nothing about them was a fairytale. There would be no wedding for them. Noah would consider it a happy ending if they both lived past thirty.

But did the fairy tale matter? Did the lack of a flowery ceremony negate the fact that with Elijah, he didn’t feel like a monster? When Noah was with Elijah, he felt loved. Safe. Protected.

They would happily continue ruining each other as long as this life let them.

Raucous applause signaled the end of the ceremony. The bride and groom shared an enthusiastic, though appropriately chaste kiss. Wrapped in each other’s arms, the groom peppered kisses on the bride’s cheeks and nose, laughing against each other while some photographer captured the magic. The couple turned to the congregation, lifting their joined hands above their heads to swelling music.

Noah was jolted from his feet a second before he heard the explosion. He was thrown backward into the pew, flipping back with it as a wave of heat and debris rained down over him. His entire body felt like it was being pressurized. Something crushed him. He couldn’t breathe.

He couldn’t feel anything. All his senses were deadened. There was a horrifying absence of sound. He thought he might be struggling to regain consciousness, but he wasn’t sure where he was.

Finally, he was able to open his eyes. Everything was a blur of red and black. He felt like he was spinning. Logically he knew he must be breathing but his chest ached. Pain bloomed across his right side, and it dragged him back to full wakefulness. The absence of sound abated and a long ringing resonated in his ears. It faded in and out as he blinked the fuzziness away. Shapes began solidifying and he recognized a smoky dark sky above him.

Shifting, in a detached sort of way he felt his left arm moving but his right was pinned. Trying to shake the remnants of fog from his brain, he pushed. The weight slid off his chest and he realized he had been crushed under a pew. The pain in his right leg was intense, but he felt like he could breathe easier.

Noah’s right hand was wet. He looked down to see it in a pool of blood and debris. Gagging, he kicked out to try and get away from it.

A cacophony of noise crashed over him. Winching at the pain, he tried to orient himself.

What was left of the church was in flames. Where moments ago people had been smiling and clapping, there were now thick chunks of plaster and wooden beams. Flames licked at the walls, slipping through empty windows. Someone was screaming. Probably several people but Noah couldn’t focus. He rolled to his hands and knees, stomach roiling. Gritting his teeth, he held back the vomit.

The blast had sent him three rows back. Because the pew had landed on him, he had been saved from the falling ceiling. Adrenalin kept his pain at bay, and he tried to think. His thoughts were slow like they had to fight through a river of molasses before he could process them. Noah closed his eyes. He could taste the smoke. It reminded him of the attack on Weaver Syndicate.

What would Grant do in this situation?

Opening his eyes, he felt around for his cell phone. It was in his front pocket. The screen was cracked but it lit up when he unlocked it. He wasn’t sure if anyone had already called 911 but it couldn’t hurt. He gave the harried operator a quick address and told them to send everyone before dropping the call.

His right leg was dragging, and it made it difficult to navigate the ruins of the church. Noah found Harvey up against an outer wall. He had wood splinters in his hand, but they looked superficial. His eyes were open but he looked like he was struggling to breathe.

“C’mon,” Noah grunted, his voice sounding watery and far away.

Somehow he got his arm under Harvey’s shoulders, pulling him to his feet and half dragging him out of the church. One of the heavy wooden doors had been shot cleanly off and the other was weakly hanging by a single ornate hinge. Noah dragged Harvey down the wide stone steps and deposited him on the lawn.

Out of the smoke, they could breathe easier. Rain was still coming down in a drizzle, light enough to be annoying. What had previously been an annoyance was now a blessing. The shower was cutting through the smoke and slowing the fire.

“Are you ok?” Harvey finally yelled.

Noah noticed blood coming out of his ears. “Yes. Just stay here. I’m going to see if I can help anyone else.”

Leg still smarting, Noah returned to the church. Squinting through the thick haze of smoke, he could just make out bodies moving. Knocking aside bits of paintings, wooden beams, structure supports, and pews he was able to free some people who could walk out on their own.

An older woman was clutching her midsection. Jamie could see a bit of rebar sticking out from her abdomen. Fighting back a fresh wave of disgust, he knelt beside her. He didn’t know if he should move her.

She gripped his forearm in an arthritic claw. “My granddaughter…” she rasped painfully.

Noah shook his head. “I don’t know. Just…”

Just what? Stay here? Stop bleeding?

Fear spiked through him when he heard more wood collapsing. One of the few remaining walls was starting to come down. Thick chunks of drywall and plaster were falling into the church.

He didn’t have time to wait. Arms slung under the woman’s armpits, and he began dragging her out. She howled in pain and Noah shouted apologies over the din. The rebar wobbled grossly but he couldn’t stop. Shuffling backward he pulled her towards the steps.