He lets go of Bowen, grabs the rod with both hands — and swings free. The pipes bend, but hold his weight. ‘Yes!’
Instantly the pressure on Judd’s shoulder is halved and he drags Bowen up. The agent snatches at the shattered floor with his free hand, grabs a handful of carpet and pulls himself to safety.
Judd’s eyes flick back to Corey. He holds the rod tight, but the pipes crack and buckle under the weight. He falls—
Judd’s right hand shoots out, seizes the metal rod. But now Corey’s weight drags him over the edge again. ‘Oh, man —’
Bowen grasps Judd’s belt, heaves him backwards, yanks Corey upwards too. The Australian grabs at the floor, clambers up and they collapse to the ground, pull in big air.
Judd turns to Bowen. ‘Thanks.’
Bowen nods as he catches his breath. ‘Just part… of the comprehensive service… we offer at Bowen & Associates.’
They can’t help but smile. Corey shoots Judd a thumbs up. ‘Mate, owe you one.’
‘I had some help.’ Judd reaches back, pats Spike on the head. ‘Good dog. If I had a biscuit it’d be all yours.’
The building shudders again. Judd looks to the others. ‘We gotta move.’ They don’t need to be told twice. They find their feet and rush for the fire stairs. Judd gets there first, drags the fire door open.
They file inside and move down the stairs three at a time. Other office workers are in there too, but no one speaks. They all have just one focus: get out now.
Creak. The sound echoes around them. The building sways to the right. The lights above flicker. Still no one speaks. They just increase their pace.
It feels like an eternity before they reach the ground floor. Corey shoulders open the fire door and they burst outside — then stop dead.
The city looks like a war zone.
15
Heavy smoke drifts between the buildings, the smell of gasoline thick in the air. Explosions echo, some distant, others close. On the road before them every car, truck and motorbike is either on fire or a smoking wreck. There are bodies everywhere.
Judd moves to an elderly woman who lies on the sidewalk. As soon as he kneels beside her he sees the left side of her face is missing. ‘Oh, Christ.’ On the ground beside her is a burning piston from a car’s engine.
Judd glances back at the CNN building. It reminds him of the one that was bombed in Oklahoma in the 1990s. One third of it has collapsed and the rest leans at a profound angle. They were lucky to get out alive.
His attention moves to a car that turns onto the road. Since he exited the building it’s the only vehicle he’s seen that’s not on fire. It’s an LAPD cruiser which drives fast and swerves between the burning wrecks. There’s a young cop behind the wheel. He looks terrified.
Judd points to the rear of the cruiser. Its exhaust is a light purple colour. ‘What’s that?’
Corey sees it too, shakes his head. ‘Don’t know, but it doesn’t look right.’
Judd waves at the young cop to pull over but he accelerates past, the cruiser’s V8 engine thundering. The exhaust turns a darker purple.
Bowen sees it too. ‘What’s going on there?’
As he says it the engine note changes from a deep throb to that of a cement mixer filled with gravel. It’s a terrible sound, like the engine is eating itself—
Boom! The cruiser detonates.
The explosion is so bright it’s like a star going supernova. The blast wave picks up Judd and slams him against the side of the CNN building, the sting of shrapnel hot on his face. His ears ring like a five-alarm fire as he opens his eyes and sees nothing but swirling smoke and dust. He blinks, tries to find his bearings, staggers to his feet. ‘Corey?’
There’s no answer.
The dog barks but he sounds a mile away.
‘Mate? You there?’ It’s Corey, his voice groggy.
‘You okay?’
‘She’ll be right. Where’s Matt?’
‘Don’t know.’
‘Matty!’
There’s no response. The dog barks again, closer this time. Judd follows the sound through the wall of smoke and dust — then sees Bowen lying on the sidewalk, Corey kneeling beside him. The agent has a shard of metal embedded in his throat and blood pours from the wound. Corey tries his best to staunch it with his hands.
It doesn’t work. Bowen stares up with wide, stunned eyes, his breathing fast and rough. He opens his mouth to speak but no sound emerges. ‘We’re going to get you some help, mate. Just gotta stop this bleeding.’
Judd pulls off his jacket, a heavy cotton Carhartt, and presses a sleeve against the wound. Corey pulls Bowen’s iPhone from his breast pocket and dials 000.
Judd watches. ‘What are you doing?’
‘Calling emergency.’
‘000 is in Australia! 911 in America!’
‘Oh, bugger! That’s right.’ Corey hangs up, dials 911.
It’s busy. He tries again as he looks back at Bowen. ‘It’ll be okay, mate.’
The jacket’s cotton sleeve is already soaked with blood. Judd replaces it with the other sleeve. ‘You just have to hold on.’
Bowen smiles weakly — then stops breathing.
‘Matt!’ Corey checks his pulse. There isn’t one. ‘Come on, mate. Come on.’ Corey pumps his chest, checks again. Nothing. He pumps his chest again, keeps at it.
Judd puts a hand on his shoulder. ‘Corey.’
The Australian stops and his chin drops to his chest, stricken. A moment passes. ‘I didn’t know him very long but he was always really nice to me —’
Craaack. The sound shakes the street. Corey looks around, confused. It wasn’t an explosion. It sounded different, sharper somehow. ‘What was that?’
Judd’s eyes flick to the CNN building that looms above. It teeters, then lurches towards them. ‘We’ve gotta move!’ He scrambles up, drags Corey to his feet.
The Aussie points at Bowen’s body. ‘We can’t just leave him —’
‘Now!’
Corey looks up at the building and suddenly understands the gravity of the situation. ‘Oh Christ! Spike! We’re going!’
They turn and run.
The building falls.
16
The sound is a thundering, biblical roar, like the world is coming to a conclusion.
Judd runs as fast as he can, the only escape route straight ahead as there are buildings to the left and right. Corey is three metres ahead, Spike in front of him and pulling away.
The roar behind Judd grows louder. He glances back as the building’s wall of black windows smash into the street like a tidal wave breaking on a beach. The torrent of concrete and steel and glass rolls over Bowen’s body and surges onward. If they’d tried to move him they would not have survived.
The rubble keeps coming, seems to gather speed. Judd turns forward, tries to lift his pace. He doesn’t think he can outrun it, doesn’t think Usain Bolt could outrun it.
He can’t see Corey or Spike. Where the hell are they? The roar is deafening now. He looks back again, wishes he hadn’t. The rubble is right at his heels. He can’t outrun it—
A hand yanks him left, into the recessed entrance of a car park as the river of debris thunders past like a runaway train, the noise echoing off the buildings. It goes on and on — then stops abruptly.
Judd turns, sees Corey, then Spike between them. The astronaut exhales, relieved beyond all measure. ‘Thanks, man.’
Corey grins his crooked grin. ‘We’re even.’