Welcome Osman Proper's Blog

This blog is meant to answer questions, keep readers up to date on new and upcoming stories, as well as allow me the opportunity to interact with my readers.

If you have any questions, comments, or concerns please feel free to post them or email me directly at osproper@gmail.com.


Sunday, November 27, 2011

Thirty Minutes Later.....


THIRTY MINUTES LATER……

Osman Proper
Copyright © 2012 by Osman Proper

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher, addressed “Attention: Permissions Coordinator,” at the address below.
Osman Proper osproper@gmail.com

Electronically Printed in the United States of America


Any and all names, characters, scenes, places, locations, locales, business establishments, organizations, associations, groups, entities, dominions, states, nations, governments, beliefs, circumstances, conditions, and events portrayed in this story, text, writing, symbol, image, either fictitious or fictitiously used.  Any resemblance to real or actual person (living or dead) is pure coincidence.  Any resemblance to real or actual people, pictures, scenes, places, locations, locales, business establishments, organizations, associations, groups, entities, nations, governments, beliefs, circumstances, conditions, or events that exist, exists, existed, have existed, or will exist are pure coincidence.  Any resemblance to reality is pure coincidence.








The 9-1-1 Call


Ted Houser was just one of the many Homeland Security officers throwing papers on desks, searching internet forums, and getting in touch with local news media.  An anonym’s call had their entire office on high alert.  Sure it could be a prank, but what if it wasn’t.  What if the disguised voice was right and there were suicide bombers on the morning TRAM, wedged in like sardines with hundreds of innocent people.

He spread the blue print over his desk.  One of the reasons Homeland Security had taken him on was his instincts about things.  He wasn’t psychic but there were some out there who would argue he was close.  He stared at the construction of the long tubes, tunnels and finally stopped at the hub.

Ted’s mind emptied as he shut out the background noise, the chaos of the field office, the shouting match between two other officers and he visualized past what the blue prints told him.  He saw the grey brick, the golden rails, the mosaic tiled name plate, a fountain that he always thought looked angrier than contemplative.  He saw the crowds of rushing tourists, the commuters, the employees.  And when he opened his russet brown eyes he was positive he’d figured out the terrorist cell’s target.

The problem was that they didn’t know when or how many bombers they were dealing with.  Outside of evacuating the TRAM there wasn’t anything they could do to stop the impending attack, much less catch the bomber’s before they put their nefarious plan into action.

“Chief there’s a call from 9-1-1 for you, says a woman’s calling from the Holland TRAM claiming to have a bomb strapped to her chest.”  For a moment everything was suspended in silence.  Everyone’s eyes saucer wide.

“Put her through.” Ted picked up the phone on the first ring.  The nasally operator capped what she could of the story.  The caller’s name Sarah James, three men in a van had snatched her while she was on her way to her morning train.  He memorized these details while the operator talked and within seconds Ted was listening to dead air.  Air so quiet he almost feared Sarah James had hung up.

“Sarah, are you still there?”  He tries to speak softly, afraid to spook her but there is no toning down the years of authority in his voice.  He’s been in this line of work too long, you talk too nice and people think it’s the time to fall apart.  He couldn’t let her fall apart, not yet.  Now Ted needed information.

“Yes, I’m still here.”  She sighs like she’s grateful to have another human voice to hold onto, as if she sees a nameless faceless voice on the other side of a phone line as her last hope.

“My name is Ted, I’m with Homeland Security.  Your 9-1-1 operator transferred you here after you said you were held at gunpoint and had a bomb strapped to your chest with a timer?”  Ted tries not to make her claim sound insane even though at first the 9-1-1 operator had hinted at it.  Instead he focuses on the details, details he has to get out of Sarah James if he’s going to find the parties responsible for what’s happening.

There is a pause and Ted knows she’s looking at her timer again, watching the seconds of her life slip away while she tries to do the right thing.  He can’t help but wonder if this is where she’s going to fall apart, crumble into pieces.

“Yes, they wanted me to ride the C train to the main hub.  I suspect they wanted to blow the hub but I can’t be sure.”  She starts rambling, panicked as she realizes she might be wasting valuable time.

“And you didn’t get on the C train?  You’re still at the Holland TRAM?”  Ted could feel her nod through the phone.  It’s like her head weighs a thousand pounds.  He’s been there before; he knows how heavy those decisions weigh on your soul.

“Yes.  I couldn’t do it.  They have my license, photos of my family and the keys to my car, my cell phone.  They said they’d torture and kill my family if I didn’t do what they wanted.  Please find my family.  There isn’t enough time for the bomb squad to get here and help me, just save my family.”  The way her voice falls apart shakes Ted to the timber of his soul.  She’s risked everything she loved to do the right thing.  And now it was his responsibility to return the favor.  The weight of that debt settled heavy in his chest.

“I’m already evacuating all the TRAM stations as covertly as possible just in case the bombers are watching.  You’ve done the right thing Sarah.  Now tell me where I can find your family.”  She rattles off information so fast Ted almost can’t keep up.  Fortunately he knows the school.  They had a few prank bomb threats there.  She’s crying while she talks about her husband, his architecture job on the west side of the city.  Ted’s writing as fast as he can because he can almost hear the seconds ticking away on her watch.

He can tell talking about her family is causing her to lose focus, to lose concentration and he needed her back on target.  With a calm but authority filled voice, “Tell me about the men who held you and any details you can about the bomb Sarah.”

“There were three men, average height.  They wore gloves, black SWAT looking uniforms and plastic masks.  I think they had makeup on underneath the masks but I can’t be sure.  Their hair was the only real visible part of them, and it was muddy brown.  They might have been wearing wigs.  They could have been anyone, two of the three didn’t speak and the one who did didn’t have an accent or anything that might tell me where he was from.”  Any leads he was hoping to get have just been quashed.  At best there will be surveillance footage but if they’ve covered themselves so thoroughly it will make identifying them impossible.


“They snatched me when I was walking to the TRAM, they were parked in a white economy van, but they took my keys so they might have taken my van.  It’s a 2009 green Honda.”  Ted wrote down the information on both the vans and handed it off to a waiting officer, he’d report both vehicles as stolen and handle looking into seeing if the van was a rental or if someone owned it.

“That’s good Sarah.  Now tell me about the bomb.”  Ted praises her even though she hasn’t really given him as much information as he’d been hoping for.  Asking her to talk about the bomb is a risk, she might break down, or worse not have any clue what she’s looking at. 

“It’s a vest, like a fisherman’s vest.  The pockets are heavy and wired closed so I can’t see inside.  He said there was a timer on the bomb but I can’t see it, I only have the time on the sports watch he gave me.  There are wires everywhere, sewn into the vest.”  Ted takes notes filling in question marks where necessary as he draws out the vest as she’s described it.  He can tell she doesn’t know much about electronics or wiring, but the fact that she’s trying is its own act of valor.

“That’s good Sarah.  Now you said you couldn’t take the device off without triggering it?”  Ted kept his voice neutral because he hopes she’s wrong.  He hopes she can carefully shed it like a snake’s skin and get herself to safety.

“Yea, the clips are wired together, he said if I took it off it would explode.”  Any hope Ted had that Sarah James would walk away from this situation easy went up in flames.

“We have units heading your way, how much time do you have left Sarah?”  Ted barely manages to keep his calm.  His hands are shaking with impotent anger and frustration.

“Seven minutes and 32 seconds.”  Her voice is almost hollow, hopelessness given voice.  Jenna’s who is across the table working with bomb squads and other emergency agencies looks up at him.

“The squad will be there soon Sarah.”  Ted says reassuringly into the phone before looking across the desk at his partner Jenna, How long?  Ted mouths.

Jenna looks down at her watch, and when she shakes her head Ted knows the bomb squad won’t make it to Sarah James’s location in time. He chokes on the mouthful of crude swears that in any other time would have come naturally.

In the passing silence Sarah seems to have figured the situation out on her own.   “You don’t have to lie Ted.  By the time they get here it will be to handle the clean up.  Just save my family.  My family is dead if you don’t get them.”

He doesn’t acknowledge the lie, or being caught in it.  Deep down he doesn’t want Sarah James to lose the one thing she’s still got going for her, hope.

“I’m not lying Sarah.  The squad is on the way.  We don’t like doing clean up.  We’d rather stop the bomb.  It’s faster and a lot less messy that way.  I promise we’re securing your family as we speak, officers are already dispatched to your husband’s office and the boys’ school.”  Ted looks over to the intern he’d charged with the task who nods.  He takes temporary solace in at least not lying to her about that.

Her laugh is mirthless, almost scary.  This is it Ted realizes, she’s finally gone into shock.  “I need to find somewhere I can hide so I don’t risk hurting anyone else.  Just tell me where to go Ted.  I don’t have much time left.”

Tears form in Ted’s eyes as he realizes what she’s asking.  She’s asking him to find her a quiet place to die, a place where the collateral damage won’t be so high.  He shifts through ream after ream of building plans trying to find the most secure place for her.  He’s found a couple, but before he can tell her anything her voice is on the line again.

“Hey Ted,” She says as if they’ve been life long friends.  Normally Ted would have been bothered by that, but he did feel bonded with Sarah.  Two people who would never have the opportunity to meet, but had depended on each other, and lives had depended on their cooperation.

“Yes Sarah,” Ted answers, questions, his voice full of compassion bordering tears.  It’s a hard job being tasked to save everyone’s life and knowing you are going to fail to save at least one.

“Can you make sure my family knows I love them, but I couldn’t do what those men asked me to do?  Make sure they know they were my last thoughts.”  She’s so proud, those words come out with such conviction Ted can’t help but smile.  He’d thought she was going to unravel as reality set in.  No she was busy ensuring what mattered.  He envied her bravery.

“Hang on Sarah, they’re almost there.”  Ted says hoping by some miracle the bomb squad will make it on time.

“There isn’t enough time.  I have to get off the phone and find some place enclosed so I can minimize the explosion the best I can.  Just keep my family safe, and tell them I love them.”  She hangs up as Ted starts relaying the perfect places for her to enclose herself.  The maintenance closet isn’t far and is surprisingly structurally sound.  But he can’t tell her any of that because Ted is left holding a dead line that belonged to the literally walking dead.  She’s gone to bury her bomb, bury the risk, and bury herself in the process.

How many people have that kind of courage and conviction?

He wanted to spend more time lingering on Sarah James and her act of selfless bravery, but he had other matters to tend to.  The C train bomb coming from the south bound line wouldn’t make it to the HUB.  Unfortunately it would be the only one of four trains converging on the HUB in minutes.

“The squad is less than fifteen minutes away from Mrs. James position.”  Jenna shouts over the raucous.  Ted shakes his head, they wouldn’t have made it, and she’d known.
Of all the victims the bombers had chosen at random, she was the only one who’d defied them.  He tried to picture were she was spending the last of her time and shook the bitter image.  Someone so brave shouldn’t have to suffer alone.

“Has the Hub been successfully evacuated?” Ted asks; his voice gruffer than normal.

“As of three minutes ago evacuations started, the entire facility should be clear before the other trains arrive.”  Jenna responded ignoring Ted’s irritation.  She had watched what had happened while he’d been on the phone.  She’d heard the desperation in Sarah James’ voice.

Ted stared at the blue prints, the engineering marvel the Hub had been all those years ago.  He looked at the support beams, the risers, the cement barriers, anything and everything that was going to be blown to smithereens in a matter of minutes.

“You know Ted, if she’d gotten on that train like she was told, it would have been her bomb that compromised the entire infrastructure.  The Hub would have collapsed and so would have many of the financial buildings surrounding it.”  How many more lives would that have been?  “As it is, the three bombs won’t be enough to bring the Hub down, but we will need emergency crews there to start adding structural support.”  Jenna nodded already on the phone.

Ted stared at the nightmare below and picked up his cell phone.

“I need three for pick up, relocation and program set up.”  The voice on the other line didn’t ask any questions except where to find the people that needed to be found before hanging up.  Sarah James’ family would be safe, Ted would see to it personally.

“Someone’s already leaked the story to the news, camera crews are showing up in droves.”  Mitchell swore as he threw the papers off his desk into the garbage.

“There won’t be anyway to spin control this Mitch.”  Ted looked up at the large red clock on the wall watching the second’s tick away wondering what Sarah was going through.


The Maintenance Room Closet

I’m surrounded by mops and buckets.  Smells that made my stomach lurch in the most uncomfortable ways.  I’m wedged as far in the back as I can, between two metal utility shelves filled with different cleaning tools and products.  I don’t look at them too closely.  My eyes are focused on the bare portion of the wall, the grey brick that’s held in place by concrete.  I hope it’s been reinforced with rebar.

As far as places to die, I’m sure there are worse places I could have picked.  Like the sewer.  As far as places to die with a bomb strapped to your chest, I suppose I did the best I could.  I was just lucky it wasn’t locked.  I laugh, as if I wouldn’t have broken that tiny glass window to get in here.  Getting and breaking and entering charge seems the least of my problems now.

I unbutton my coat so the grotesque bomb can be on full display.  It’s not like the thin shell trench coat was going to provide me any protection.  I don’t know if it’s because I’m about to die or somewhere during this thirty minutes I’ve grown a pair, but I inspect the vest tightened like a vise to my chest.  The sad part is I still don’t understand what I’m seeing.  I’m looking at mechanical jigsaw pieces that I’ve never seen before.  There’s no way I’m taking it off myself.  The wires are twisted too tight; I couldn’t take it off even if I wanted to.

I settle back into my corner, suddenly cold, using my jacket as a blanket.  My family photo hasn't left my hand since this whole thing started.  They are all I can think about as I hope that Ted is a man of his word.   I’ve trusted my whole world to his care.

When the Twin Towers went down I read a lot of articles about terrorism in theory and the abstract.  I never thought I’d be one of those victims.  Those kinds of things happened in major important cities, not places like this. As I look at my chest again, apparently I was wrong.

The counter is starting to take me to a place that makes my mind empty of horrible faceless men and evil agendas.  I fill my mind and thoughts with the exact opposite of what they hoped to achieve.  Love is a filling force.  It takes all those nooks and crannies that lack emotion and squeezes them tight.  Love is blinding, like the sun and that’s what I feel when the timer goes off.  A flash of pain and a love so vast it has no end.



ACROSS TOWN AT THE HUB

News crews and other vultures scatter the perimeter as the HUB blows.  It’s an explosion the likes of which the city has never seen before.  One news anchor would later remark that it was seen from space and provide pictures.  While chaos reigned supreme at the downtown HUB and the three bombs that went off, outside of the passengers on the trains, a few employees the death count was much smaller than it could have been.  While one of the press officers for Homeland Security handled the details on how they’d worked together to save the lives of additional commuters, Ted couldn't help but think of Sarah, the real reason all those commuters were alive.

He turned his back on the field office television and walked out the door.  He had three men to meet, and one amazing woman to tell them about before they disappeared off the face of the Earth forever.


The End