The satchel was called a soft briefcase, but he thought the thing appeared to others like a purse—which he hated. However, being a gift from his mother, he always carried the thing. Moving from the booth, he caught his reflection in the office doors’ glass windows.“Shee-it fire. I look like some little fag carrying a purse. Note to self, I must figure out a way to lose the damn thing.” The young man walked at a brisk pace down the stairs. Staring at the glass doors, he couldn’t see across the street.A thick fog hung over the streets like a blanket of white. Inserting his key into the lock, he locked the door behind him and walked toward home. A pair of almond-shaped, dark eyes followed him—hungry, lustful, and angry eyes. Softly, she moved from the recessed door of the jewelry store. Sneakers softly followed the boy. The tennis shoes squeaked, but the fog all but swallowed the soft sound.The hairs on the back of his necked prickled. Something in the fog tried to warn him of some. A second explosion moments later seemed to make the floor sway. David and Liz held on to each other. A third bomb in the string must have landed directly above the bunker, because David and Liz were thrown violently around the room. The last thing that David heard was Liz screaming, the last thing he felt and saw was the generator into which he crashed.Darkness, and a high pitched ringing."David?" David? Please God, let him be alive."David opened his eyes. The ringing didn't stop, and the darkness was absolute.He felt a hand touch his face. It move from his temple past his eyes to his mouth,"David — please tell me you are alright!" sobbed Liz. "I'm OK girl, but I can't see." He did a mental audit of his body. He felt that apart from his throbbing head, the ringing in his ears ... and the fact that he couldn't see, he was in pretty good shape. Maybe a broken rib, breathing hurt, and some cuts and bruises, he was OK."Liz. Are you OK?" "I'm,,,, I'm fine. I think I might have cut my.
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