The Closed Circle

He turned from the windows as the debris that used to be the restaurant across the street shattered the titanic panes of glass and turned them in to glittering projectiles. He lay still on the floor, with chunks of stone and glass falling on him, the rumble from the explosion fading, only to be replaced by the screams of the dead and injured. Silently, he took inventory, and concluded that aside from the impact itself, he was uninjured. As he slowly lifted himself off the floor, he muttered under his breath about waiting till the last minute to take his CLE courses for this reporting period. As he dusted himself off, he looked at the shattered remnants of his favorite coffee mug, the contents spreading a dark stain on the carpet. "DAMMIT, I HATE COMING TO SEATTLE!" he said to no one in particular.

He looked to his left, to see the well-dressed brunette who had made such a spectacle of herself coming in late to the session. He only had to linger a moment on the sight of the huge shard of glass sticking out from the crimson stain on her chest, and her sightless eyes, frozen in a look of surprise, to know that she was dead. He looked around the third floor lobby of the Washington Convention Center, and saw several people around the space, in varying degrees of health. Another explosion two blocks away added to the cacophony outside. Then another, then another.

He knew that he had to try to help some of the injured to safety, if any could be found. He also knew that it must be on the news by now. He pulled out his cell phone, and by some miracle, it still had a signal. Another explosion rocked the building, causing pieces of glass still in the window frames to fall to the street below. He held own the "2" button until it dialed, and he raised it to his ear. "Hello, you have reached the voicemail box of..." This time he could not contain his rage. "Shit, shit, shit, shit!" He paused for a minute, and considered calling her cell phone, despite the fact that she rarely heard it ring in her desk drawer at work.

Another explosion rumbled beneath his feet, sounding as it it came from the parking garage. From outside, he heard a fevered cry, the only intelligible word being "Allah". Another explosion rang out from the other side of the street. Realizing that if he was going to say anything, he should act quickly, he rifled through the menu to "Text message", and started to plunk away with both thumbs.

*****

For an hour now, she had been trying to call his cell phone, ever since the head of the department came by and announced that a series of explosions had ripped downtown Seattle apart, and appeared to be timed in a fashion to kill or injure as many of the first responders as possible. After the first call went straight to his voicemail, she logged onto the internet and looked at the pictures posted on the CNN website. Downtown was unrecognizable from the air. The Convention Center had completely crumbled, completely blocking I-5 from both the North and the South. She picked up her phone, dialed again, and again heard his voice telling her she'd reached his cell phone. Angrily, she slammed the phone down, and watched the plumes of smoke curl up from what had been a typical urban center a few ours before. The phone rang. Her heart lept as she practically pounced on the handset and frantically said "Hello???" The voice on the other end was his assistant. "Has he called you?" the assistant asked. Brokenheartedly, she replied "No." "Well, if you do, call us. Please." Slowly, she hung up the phone when the thought came to her.

Torn between the desire to know, and not to know, she opened her desk drawer, and pulled out her cell phone. She took it, walked downstairs, past her coworkers,who were milling about, and talking in hushed tones. Thirty seconds after she walked outside, the lights on the phone flashed, and it beeped, indicating a text message.

Her heart was in her throat as she flipped the phone open with a quivering hand. The message was brief: "I'm OK. I lov"