Chapter 2 - Boston – The First Incident

The first attack on the United States

Boston " The First Incident

9:30 am, February 12^th, 2016

 

“Jimmy, listen me, if we don’t get over there and pick up that dough for da boss, there’s gonna be hell to pay!” Big Jimmy, as most people knew him, looked up from the diner booth he nearly filled on his own. His jowls shuddered as he stuffed another bagel smothered with a cake of cream cheese into his mouth. He looked across the table and spat out a few words through his mouthful of cream cheese and bread, his thick Boston accent still obvious, “This job ain’t nothing bro, dat guy won’t have da money and we’ll bust him up some, don’t sweat it…c’mon man damnit, cantch’ya see I’m eatin here?” Across the table from Big Jimmy, Rocco sighed and took another hit from his coffee, black. He knew better, nothing was going to stop Jimmy from finishing the “His and Hers Boston Breakfast” he loved to order, at their favorite diner on Mulberry. Rocco never got used to watching his partner slobbing down a big breakfast, meant for two people, almost every single day.

“Rocco, did you know that they boil these bagels? I never knew that.” Rocco did not reply but just stared at his obese friend as his greasy, stubby fingers shoved a piece of sausage into his already full mouth. Crumbs and grease dotted the wrinkled landscape on the front of his shirt. Bits of food constantly fell out of his mouth as he noisily chewed. “Jimmy, watching you eat is like watching a gross episode of Wild Kingdom… damn man close your gaper while you chew!”

“F**k you Rocco” was Jimmy’s muffled reply through the food.

Rocco tried to stare at the sports page, something about some big Bruins trade, but all he could hear was the slurping and chomping across the table from him. Finally he got up, “Jimmy, I’m gonna hit the head and pay the bill, finish up man, we gotta go.” Jimmy nodded and sucked down the last of his glass of orange juice.

Just as Rocco got ready to stand up, he was thrown back by the concussion from a deafening explosion that left his ears ringing and every window in the diner shattered. It felt like the entire diner floor moved beneath him. The first thought that occurred to Rocco was that someone was trying to score a hit on he and Jimmy. A gagging sound caused him to look over at Jimmy, who was currently choking, not on his own blood from a gunshot or an explosion, but from the mound of food that was lodged in his throat. Seconds later the lights went off in the restaurant and the air was filled with the sound of screams and sirens. Rocco pulled his obscenely large, chrome plated, 44 caliber revolver out of his shoulder holster and ran out into the street. It was chaos there as well, but it was obvious that something big was happening, something really big. Traffic was stopped and people were pouring out into the streets, confused and trying to figure out what was happening. Rocco looked down the street and thought to himself how dark it was for so early in the morning, wasn’t the sun shining just a few minutes ago? Just then a searing hot wind tore up the street hurtling pieces of debris at the thousands of bystanders. Rocco ducked into the doorway and cursed as a chunk of asphalt slammed into his upper arm and buried itself there. He winced in pain as blood started to pool around the chunk in his arm and looked back for Jimmy.

“Holy s**t” he said out loud. “What the hell is happening here? Jimmy! You seeing this s**t man?” When he heard no response and noticed Jimmy was not beside him nor sitting in the booth any longer, Rocco looked down and saw Jimmie lying on his back on the floor grasping his neck. But was most obvious was that Jimmies round face, plastered with homefries and a runny eggs, was blue and his eyes were wide and bugging out his head. “I’ll be damned, the city’s blowing up and Jimmy killed himself with a bagel.” Rocco briefly thought about trying to save his partner, but thought about mouth-to-mouth and said “F**k it.”

After a few minutes the hot wind died down and the steady stream of debris subsided and Rocco ventured out into the street again. He grabbed a guy’s arm who was stumbling past him. As he pulled the guy towards him, he saw that half of his face was covered in blood and black burn streaks. “Jesus man, what happened to you?” The man vacantly stared back at Jimmy and breathed “huge explosion”. Rocco wondered if 9/11 was happening all over again. People were trying to kills us!

Like a sledgehammer slamming the wind from his chest it dawned on him that the explosion might be downtown near his townhome in the shadow of Fenway park, where his beloved Jeannie and his little guy Anthony were enjoying a quiet day at home. In a panic now; “Where damnit, where was the explosion?” He shook the smaller man by the shoulders. “Answer me!” Before the burnt man could answer, Rocco, in his heart could feel a sense of foreboding and it struck him that in he knew what the man was going to say, before he said it. “Fenway, the damn thing blew up Fenway.” Rocco felt his world fall away from him as everything start to spin, he was barely able to stand as he stumbled out into the street. The last thing he saw before a twelve ton emergency truck slammed into his back, was a horde of broken and bleeding people rushing toward him.

Author's Note

Is this interesting? How are the characters?