Andrew had been hit by debris and the explosion had knocked him to the ground beside the Land Cruiser. He was trying to clear his head and grabbing onto the car, he struggled to raise himself to his feet. He saw Charlene in the street and lurched forward toward her calling her name, but she didn’t move.
“Oh, God, Charlene,” he cried as he reached her side. “Somebody help! Help her!” He was on his knees beside her. He could barely hear the sirens over the ringing in his ears.
Someone was beside him trying to help him to his feet. A voice that sounded far away, was saying, “Someone called 9-1-1. Come on, fella,’ you’re bleeding, you’re hurt; let us help you… The ambulance will be here in a few minutes,” Andrew pulled away from the hands trying to assist him, refusing to leave Charlene, he said hoarsely, “Help her, please,” he pleaded.
A crowd had gathered now and people were helping others who had been hit by debris. “What happened?” people were asking.
A police car reached the scene first and blocked off the street to allow the emergency vehicles to get through. A fire truck and two Medic One units had arrived and the paramedics immediately started to work on Charlene. Andrew would not move until someone assured him that she was alive. His ears were still ringing as the medics guided him to a waiting ambulance and put him inside, along with the two people who had been in the car. The medic assured him he could see Charlene at the hospital.
Seeing the Seattle Policeman outside, he motioned him to the doorway of the ambulance, saying, “My name is Andrew Kincaid, officer, please get hold of Detective Jim Savalza and tell him what happened here and ask him to meet us at Harborview.”
“What did happen here, Mr. Kincaid? What caused the explosion—was it a bomb?” The officer asked looking at the residue.
“Yes, it was a bomb.” Andrew asserted. “Get hold of Detective Savalza and tell him.”
The scene in the emergency room seemed like controlled chaos. The medical staff was operating in over-drive, moving rapidly from one injury to the other, triaging and treating the blast victims expeditiously. Charlene had been taken immediately into a treatment area where physicians and nurses were working to save her life.
After arguing and losing, Andrew had been moved away from her to an area with some of the less severely injured blast victims. A person with a clipboard and forms was asking for information. He asked her where he could go to make a phone call and she directed him to small waiting area where he spotted a telephone on a table in the corner. Walking past the others waiting to be treated he quickly dialed Father Ben’s number.
His ears were still ringing so badly he could barely hear Ben’s voice answer.
His own voice echoed as he spoke, “Father Ben, this is Andrew. Can you come to Harborview Emergency? There has been an accident.”
Ben instantly responded, “Andrew, you sound strange are you all right? Never mind, of course I’ll come. I’ll be there as soon as I can.
Andrew placed the phone back in the cradle and turning he saw Jim Savalza coming down the hall. “You got the word—do you know what happened?”
Jim looked at Andy—“I heard. Holy smoke, Andy, you’re a mess! Shouldn’t you be in there lying down?” he pointed to an exam room.
“I’m okay. It was a bomb, Jim. Someone tried to kill us. When you talk to me, Jim, I need to look at you. I’m not hearing too well. You have got to find out about Charlene—I’ve got to know how she is and nobody is telling me anything.” He was talking rapidly and Jim noticed his hand was shaking as he reached for the back of a chair for support.
“Okay, Andy, take it easy, I will, but I want to know what hap…”
Andrew cut him off adamantly, “Not until I know about Charlie, Jim. I mean it!” he said swaying slightly.
“All right, all right. I’ll find out, but you’d better sit down—you don’t look so good.”
Jim grabbed the first person he could find that looked medically official and showed his badge, “Detective Savalza,” he said identifying himself, “How is Charlene Thayer, Doctor? I’d like to ask her some questions, is she conscious?”
“Sorry, Detective, she’s not conscious and we’re not sure what all of her injuries are.”
“Is she going to be all right?”
“Don’t know yet; she’s alive and we’ll be able to tell more after we’ve run some more tests. Right now I’d say she has a little better than fifty-fifty chance, given what we see on the surface.”
“Thanks, Doc, I’ll want to talk with some of the other victims as they can.”
“I understand Detective and I’ll keep you posted on Ms. Thayer,” he said as he hurried toward a treatment room.
Jim returned to where Andrew was sitting in a straight chair, eyes closed, his head resting against the wall. Opening his eyes as Jim touched his shoulder, “What did you find out?” he asked urgently.
“Not a lot, but the doctor thinks she’s got a good chance. She’s still not conscious. Andy, look, I need to ask some official questions. I know you and Charlene were at Alki. Where was the bomb?”
Andrew grimaced as he closed his eyes tightly trying to visualize the moments before the explosion. “It had to have come from the bench—and it had to be the runner that did it. He must have dropped it into her bag and we didn’t notice…” he said it slowly and thoughtfully. “We had been walking and then sat down to talk-”
“What runner?” Savalza was writing as he questioned.
Ponderously, Andrew continued, “We had been sitting on a bench talking. We were just getting ready to leave when this guy comes running out of nowhere and stumbles into the bench. He almost landed in her lap. I yelled, and I think he muttered something like “sorry, didn’t see ya’, got his balance again and ran off. He was wearing a two piece sweat suit and he had the hood of the jacket pulled over headphones he was listening to; no wonder he didn’t see us.”
“What did he look like?”
“I don’t know—just a guy; you know—average build, average height nondescript sweat suit… dark gray I think. I couldn’t see his face because of the hood. Now we know why, huh,” Andrew sighed and leaned back again.
“We crossed the street and Charlie wanted to look in the windows of a book store close to where we’d parked the car. Then she remembered her tote bag by the bench, those other people were in the car” he said pointing to the room where two of the victims were being treated, “Charlene almost ran into their car— everything happened so fast,” he shook his head, “I yelled at her to be careful; that I would get the tote, but she didn’t listen,” he said softly. “Anyway that’s when it happened.”
Jim listened intently then closed his notebook saying gently, “That’s enough for now, here’s Father Ben,” he said seeing the priest approaching.
Ben’s usually placid face reflected shock and concern seeing Andrew’s cut arms and bandaged head. His shirt was bloodstained and tattered. “Andrew, Andrew my friend, what happened?” Father Ben asked urgently. He looked at Jim and hesitantly asked, “Where is Charlene?”
“She’s really hurt, Ben,” Andrew answered emotionally.
Jim interjected, “Doctors think she’ll be okay, Father Ben. Let me fill you in.”
A harried looking young man in a green scrub suit appeared, “Come on Mr. Kincaid, you’re next,” he said as he directed Andrew into a treatment room and pointed to an examining table. “By the way, I’m Doctor Doug Bennett; now let’s see, Andrew…” he said as he glanced at the information on the clipboard the young woman had gathered earlier. “It says here that you were near the blast. I see that you have some cuts and abrasions and you complained of ringing in your ears which is not too surprising—often happens to people who have been close to an explosion. Is that all?”