Wilson, Gar - Phoenix Force 05 - The Fury Bombs by Anonymous Author

Author:Anonymous Author
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Unknown publisher
Published: 2012-04-28T04:00:00+00:00

12

LATE-APRIL SUNSHINE threatened the San Fernando Valley with the heat of midsummer. From Reseda Boulevard eastward the smog settled in early, filling the eyes and choking the lungs of the people who lived in Van Nuys and Studio City, Panorama City and Glendale. The area became engulfed by a yellow green haze of smog. By noon, the Air Quality Management District Board called a first-stage smog alert for the first time that season.

In Burbank, a delivery van wheeled out of an alley behind a block of stores, weaving erratically as it bumped into San Fernando Boulevard and turned south. Brakes squealed in anger as the van cut off a car. A Harley hog sliced out of traffic and roared around the van, the biker glancing sideways to give the driver the finger. He blinked.

"Sweet Jesus!"

The bike swerved as the rider took a second look then quickly fed gas to the bike. He cut off two cars and reclaimed a lane in the crowded street. He then checked the mirrors on hishandlebars. The van was three cars back, the windshield blank.

There was no driver! The van was being operated by remote control. And at the control was a lunatic who worked for another lunatic, Seamus Riley.

The van continued its trek. It motored along, reaching a block that contained an eight-story parking garage and, beside it, a twelve-story office building. A pedestrian bridge crossed from the sixth story of the garage to the office building. On the north side of the building, was a branch office of the Colonial-Far Eastern Bank of California.

The van, running the crazed course it was given, veered abruptly and bumped over the curb, nearly hitting a man standing at a bus stop. The van sped across the plaza, through flower beds and scattering pedestrians.

People shouted. People ran for their lives. A woman screamed, snatching a small child out of the way. The van crushed the corner of a temporary plywood bandstand, set up for lunchtime concerts. The van then stopped with its bumper against the front door of the bank.

A woman had just pushed the door open to leave. The collision with the van knocked her back into the lobby. She gathered air into her lungs to protest but had no time to exhale as a ton of dynamite in the van exploded with an ear-shattering bang.

The fireball filled the area, melting the shardsof plate-glass that still hung in their storefront frames, scorching everything within the shops and turning it to lumps of carbon.

In the bank's lobby, the explosion shredded ceiling tiles and tore carpeting away from the concrete subfloor in strips that flared like candlewicks. The tellers' counter slammed back against the wall, trapping a dozen dead bodies. The half-dozen desks used by the manager, assistant manager, loans officers and the new-accounts clerk were blown against the back wall. And so were the bodies of the men and women who manned those desks.

Every window in the three blocks facing San Fernando Boulevard was blown out, glass falling into the streets.

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