Love, Hate and Other Filters(39)
“Okay. We’ll see you soon, then? Let us know when they let you go.”
“Okay. Khudafis.”
“Khudafis.”
Violet puts down her phone at the same time. “My dad says they evacuated all the buildings at Fermi. There’s police at all the entrances, and apparently there is going to be the Army or the National Guard, too. He’s at home already.”
“My parents are home, too.”
After a few more interminable minutes, there’s a loud knock at the door. The room falls silent, and we all instinctively scoot as far from the door as possible. Madame DuPont walks to the door and asks who it is, carefully lifting a free corner of the paper taped over the slim window.
She opens the door to a security guard. He hands her a piece of paper and asks her to keep the door locked with everyone in the room until there is an announcement. The classroom is completely silent. Madame DuPont’s black heels click against the floor as she walks to the front of the classroom, paper in hand.
“It looks like the information we were getting on the internet was correct in part. There was a bombing at the Federal Building in Springfield. At this time, they think a suicide bomber drove a vehicle past the security gates and straight through the front doors of the building. There is no word on the number of people killed. They are still sorting through the rubble.”
We stare at Madame DuPont. The class is completely quiet. A couple students cry. Someone finally asks, “Are we under attack?”
“That’s all the information we have so far,” Madame DuPont says.
“It’s a Muslim terrorist,” Brian yells. “They hate America.”
I turn to look at Brian. He stares right back. His glare is icy and unnerving, and he mutters something under his breath.
“I need you all to stay calm,” Madame DuPont snaps. “Like I said, it doesn’t help to speculate.”
I turn to face forward. Madame DuPont raises an eyebrow. “Understand? All of you? I’m sure the authorities will release information when they have it. Now, as far as lockdown, there should be an announcement soon to dismiss everyone. They are going to let you out by class—the freshman will be first, the sophomores next. If you take a bus home, all the buses will be lined up at the front of the building, waiting for you. If you drive, please go to your cars and leave the back parking lot immediately. No loitering.”
It takes almost thirty minutes to get to us. We all hurry to senior hall, rushing by the grim faces of the school staff that line the corridors. Police and school security roam the halls.
Senior hall hums, the air thick with anxiety. We gather up our books and follow the stream of seniors exiting the hallway. I see Lisa at Phil’s locker, sobbing, her head buried in his chest. Phil has one arm against her upper back and his other stiff at his side. Our eyes meet. He holds my gaze.
A vise clamps its jaws around my heart. The scene is a perfect metaphor. Phil stands at the edge of the frame in the film of my life, slightly out of focus. There’s a girl in his foreground, but it’s not me. The distance between us ever widening.
I hook my arm through Violet’s.
As we walk down the hall, I have the distinct sense that we’re leaving a tiny, crumbling world behind us. We step outside into the brash light of another world I can’t possibly understand.
The Special Agent in charge, the man in a dark blue windbreaker with FBI emblazoned along the sleeve and back of the jacket, steps up to the podium. Now I’ll take any questions.
Q: Do you have any more information on the white truck that was at the scene before the bombing?
A: We have a partial on the license plate from a security camera across the street. It appears that the truck drove through the security gate at 13:10 hours and directly into the building before exploding.
Q: Can you confirm that an Egyptian passport was found at the scene?
A: Yes, it appears to belong to one Kamal Aziz.
Q: Is he a suspect?
A: He is currently under investigation as a person of interest. We are working to positively ID his body and determine if he was indeed the driver of the vehicle.
Q: Has any terrorist group taken credit for the bombing?
A: At this time, there are no claims of responsibility. We are still looking into any possible ties between Aziz and known terrorist organizations or splinter groups. We are also working to determine any accomplices or known associates who may still be at large. We urge the public to contact us at the investigation hotline with any relevant tips or information.
Finally, let me assure the public that we will leave no stone unturned in our search for those who committed this heinous act.
Carnage leaps, bleeding, from the television screen. Over and over on the news, it’s the same image: the massive neoclassical building that used to take up an entire city block. One-third of it has been sheared off by the strength of the bomb. It looks like a giant meteor crashed through the roof, obliterating stone into dust. Bent steel beams and the pulpy ends of impossibly twisted floors are all that remain.
I sit on the edge of the sofa, my fingers digging into the fabric. Waves of nausea prevent me from eating anything but saltines and ginger ale. Death is everywhere. And the pit in my stomach grows and grows.
The ten o’clock nightly news confirms my quiet worry. The FBI holds a press conference at the site, corroborating hearsay that a passport found at the crater belonged to Kamal Aziz, an Egyptian national. They believe he is the suicide bomber.