The flashlight flickered on the floor, showing a thick cloud of dust suspended in the air. The only sound was the cracking of walls and the murmur of debris cascading down.
Brock was sprawled on the floor, his back against the inner wall, his right ear bleeding. At the other side of the flickering light, the column was still crushing Gillian's chest, and now her legs were buried under a pile of rubble fallen from the fourth floor.
Fred pulled himself up as Russell rolled to his side, allowing Aldana to sit up, the three of them gawking in shock at the building.
Hank ran to them. "You guys okay?"
"Reg...," muttered Russell, eyes moving over the crumbled entrance.
Hank helped Aldana up. "Come, guys, we need to step back now."
She couldn't look away from the building. Hank tried to guide her away, but she shook him off. "We can't wait!" she cried. "Reg's trapped in there!"
Russell breathed deep and shook his head. Fred and Aldana scowled at him, not believing their eyes.
"Brock went in and a bomb exploded. Then we tried to go in, and another bomb exploded. So we're not making the same mistake again. We're letting the Bomb Squad do their job before trying anything else."
Fred snapped at his words. "What!? You mean gambling Reg's life on those jerks who had already cleared the building!?"
Russell raised his hands, asking them to calm down. "Think, guys, please. Brock was hardly in when the fourth floor went off. You know him enough to guess what he must've done after the explosion."
Hank nodded. "Going up to find Reg."
"Exactly. The ground floor's explosion must've caught him upstairs. So he should be with her right now, taking care of her. Maybe the blasts messed their radios."
Aldana glared around and spotted Perkins a few steps away.
"Perkins! Tell your men to turn off all their phones!" she snarled. "And warn the coming responders as well!" She snorted under her breath. "I'm so gonna have his ass when this is over!"
"I'm going back to the office to get prints of the building," said Hank.
"Al, why don't you go with Hank and fetch whatever scanning equipment you have left?"
She scowled at Russell, knowing he wanted to send her away to keep her safe. But he was right, regular equipment wasn't enough there.
"And we're gonna need some walkies, to use a different frequency from what we use in the department," said Fred.
Russell nodded, agreeing, as they all headed to their cars.
"What d'you think happened?" asked Hank.
Russell grimaced, not sure. "I think Wood set timers on these last bombs. He was a Squad himself, so he knew how long it'd take them to sweep the building."
"And knowing us, it was obvious that after his last thread, at least Reg would stay to search his apartment," Aldana said.
Fred nodded. "So he set the first bomb to try to kill whoever was up there, and the second one to keep out whoever tried to help."
"Only Brock went in ahead of schedule," said Russell.
"We need to know if they're still alive," muttered Fred, looking back at the crumbling building, all of its structure damaged by the blasts.
Brock shook his head, stunned, and his eyes fluttered open. He needed a moment to overcome the constant throbbing buzz in his ear, and waited for things to stop spinning around in a dizzy blur. He stood up slowly, grabbing the wall for support with both hands. He needed another moment to get his balance back despite his wounded ear, then he staggered across the room, past the flashlight, to kneel down by Gillian.
His heart drumming in his chest, he checked her vitals and sighed at finding her pulse. She opened her eyes at his touch, saw him, moved her lips. Brock leaned in to try to hear what she was murmuring. And it wasn't the told-ya he had rightfully earned for ignoring her warning, nor was she crying the help-me she was rightfully entitled to. In a thread of voice, she asked, "You okay...?"
When he nodded, she coughed and managed to say, "Gotta tell... team... the bombs..."
Brock forced himself to soften his voice. "Our radios are gone, so we'll wait for them here, and you can tell them, okay?"
No luck. Brock confirmed Gillian was allergic to anything that could remotely resemble pity, or even an attempt of comfort. She grimaced, as annoyed as she could be in her situation.
"No time..." she grunted. "Not phone... window... tell them... now..."
Brock looked up and around. There was a window in the tiny living room, opening to the front side of the building, where Russell and her team should still be. He had to admit she was right about the urgency to let the others know about the bombs in the city, but he wasn't sure about leaving her alone.
"Go..." she breathed. "I'll wait... to die on you..."
He swallowed a curse.Gillian was trying a little humor, but she didn't look like making a joke abouther situation. He sighed, straightening up. "I'll be right back."