by Gary Sapp
Atlanta.
The cornier was verifying what Protect and Serve already knew—the highest remnants of a House in Chains had committed a mass suicide.
Thomas sprinted out of the hotel room leaving the door opened, the TV playing and Lucy’s still dead body behind.
He finally halted his progress when he reached street level for the second time in many days to catch his breath. He slid as silently as a man of his bulk could manage along the hotel’s wall. There were tears clouding his vision. He swiped at them angrily. Once he was able to focus on what was in front of him he could see one of downtown’s tallest buildings glaring back at him from behind the haze of smoke.
And then he had a thought…or I being cursed with one of your visions, Serena.
If she were still alive could she would be headquartered in a building just like that one so she could look down and see her handy work. People were suffering because of her. He had suffered because of her.
Someone should make her suffer for her major role in this nationwide catastrophe.
He tried to shake off this uncomfortable—this unwanted sensation that had washed over him the way a thunderstorm rolls in over a city after a hot summer day. And it is like a heat. He’d never felt of burning of hate at the core of his being like he had at that moment. He couldn’t explain it.
Thomas did know that he was hungry. He needed food. He looked south. And thankfully he saw almost immediately what he needed and thankfully it wasn’t far away. A man and his wife of Middle Eastern descent were handing out soup bowls on a nearby corner. Yes, yes he could smell the food despite the heavy brushfire aromas that nearly drowned out every other smell in the world right now.
The man did not speak English but the warmth in his eyes and the smile on his lips moved mountains—and the line forming on that corner just as importantly. Thomas flashed his own smile when it was his turn to be served. He cooled it enough and spooned it back and forth into his waiting mouth until the delicious meal was gone. He turned to leave…not quite sure where he would go…but spied a crowd of people gathering in front of a nearby restaurant. I don’t want any more trouble. Do you people understand that I don’t need anymore—?
But to his relief, Thomas noticed that this crowd was far from unruly. They were, in fact, surprisingly pleasant as they used the particular landmark to start the line and patiently wait for their turn at breakfast.
Thomas made his way behind where the serving couple was standing, rolled up his sleeves, washed his hands and arms—and began to help them serve those who had come in hunger as he had.
After a few minutes the familiar stench of something fresh burning struck Thomas.
He could see the flames forming over one of the building’s roof tops from the direction that he’d run from when he first attempted to reach Lucy Burgess and find her alive.
He ran towards the flames.
When he cleared the building that was obstructing his view Thomas saw it. And it broke his heart and his spirit all over again.
The church that had housed him when his life was in the most peril along his trip to Lucy’s hotel room was consumed with flame.
Once again his mind and his body seemed to be on different planes of existence. He didn’t remember someone tackling him along his way to the church’s entrance. It had to be someone of considerable size and strength considering his own size and weight. When he finally tore his eyes away from the burning church to finally see his assailant—first in anger then curiosity…and finally in curiosity, his body went limp. He was looking into the dark face of the minister who had welcomed him into his church where his congregation would have gladly shunned him otherwise. The older man had tears in his own eyes but he did not loosen his grip on Thomas.
Thomas relaxed himself enough to hold the minister close to his own bosom…and soon found himself crying with the man.
After he had gathered himself enough, Thomas asked the man all of the obvious questions: Who would try and burn his church down? Did they use gasoline or some other form of ignition? Most importantly—was he able to get all of who had come to the church as a source of refuge out in time?
The bald headed minister nodded. Thomas Pepper hoped that the gesture was in response to his last inquiry—
And then both men reacted as they heard a nearby explosion.
Before either of them could fully react or even begin to comment Thomas heard two more nearby blast and turned just in time to see a fourth detonation with his own eyes. Some people hit the ground while others covered their heads not knowing when or where the next pipe bomb would ignite next. Thomas grabbed for his ears as the latest one did its thing to close by for comfort.
A stiff wind caught the flames and pushed them all around until fire engulfed entire street corners in a heartbeat.
It was Serena’s Whirlwind. Thomas bit his knuckle hard enough to hurt. The pipe bombs are hers, nothing else makes any sense.
Thomas peered in the distance at the five star hotels that served as one of Atlanta’s tallest buildings.
And then he looked down at his ringing cell phone.
“If you are alive, if you get this message in time, see me. You should know where to find me.”
The text message was from Serena Tennyson.
He thought as long and as hard as conditions allowed him to. Thomas had entrusted years’ worth of Oracle’s personal profile to memory and all of that work, all of that study was paying off this morning. Again, if and when Serena had unleashed her long prophesied version of a Whirlwind—Pandora’s final act of contempt against this city—she’d want to witness the Dragon’s feast from the most panoramic view possible.
That high rise hotel, Thomas mused. She has to be there.
Thomas’ first inkling was to try and reach local authorities…but after his third attempt at dialing them he realized that the lines had gone down again. Either the servers were being been overloaded with calls about these new rounds of explosions or the placement of the bombs themselves targeted city services.
He handed the minister who had befriended him one of his cards and promised to return when he could. And then he ran as fast as his large frame would carry him towards where he could only guess Serena was.
And somewhere along his long run, his allegro, Thomas decided that he would do something that he dreaded far more than watching his father slowly dying from his disease when the son was just a young man.
And between heavy breaths of exhaustion and smoke poisoning his lungs, Thomas decided that he would do something that he dreaded far worse than the memories of his mother abandoning him and his sisters just before his father died.
And after he was bent over and gagging from exhaustion at the footstep of Serena’s supposed hotel, Thomas had decided that he would do something that he had dreaded far worse than when he held his press conference and told the world his findings about Pandora and the probable fate of Atlanta’s missing children knowing that it would serve as the ignition of this literal firestorm his adapted home city that he loved so much was facing right now.
If Serena Tennyson was in this building—
If he could reach her…
Instinct once again instructed him to look down at his cell phone.
“I can see you. I am in room 1202 if you would like to see me for the last time as well.”
Serena Tennyson was in this building.
He could reach her.
Thomas Pepper had decided that he would do the one thing that he most dreaded in the world:
He would find Serena and kill the only woman that he’d ever loved.
Angel
Christopher had told Angel that her husband Seth was here, somewhere, in this gigantic makeshift triage center that the Georgia Dome was serving as.
Seth is alive. He has been here in Atlanta all along.
Angel’s entourage followed within a few steps of her in every turn. Special Agent Nicholas Sheridan, who was now serving as the interim head of the FBI, had assigned on
e female agent and two more male agents to her since they’d left Stone Mountain and Hugh Keaton’s dead remains behind. Christopher told her that she’d better move quickly. Fulton, Cobb and most of the surrounding counties here in Northern Georgia were being placed under Martial Law indefinitely. The President of the United States was due to meet the governor of the state Georgia and the city’s mayor here within the next 24 hours.
Overall, the earthquake’s impact on casualties in the regional had been held to a minimum. Still, the extensive damage to property and infrastructure made an already hard job of transporting medical personnel and supplies into Metro Atlanta all the more difficult. Officials were far more concerned with the breakout of fires consuming entire blocks of the city from hundreds of unexplained explosions along the perimeter of the city limits.
As for her new found bodyguards, Sheridan told her they were here in part for her protection from retaliation from Serena Tennyson and her Pandora agents for her involvement in the safe recovery of Atlanta’s missing children.
Those children returning to their homes and their parents are the lone reason that I’m not presently placing you under arrest, Doctor. Sheridan whispered in her ear on the way here.
Angel doubted it—that Serena had the time or the resources to spend on finding her. Pettiness wasn’t Oracle’s way. And yet these bombs and fires are. Angel hugged herself, suddenly cold. Had she finally filled her long awaited prophecy and unleashed the Whirlwind on the city.
