A bomb scare? Why would he be coming here?
Then I heard a male voice yell “Bomb!”
I couldn’t see who that was but people started running. The teen girls who had been in the Teen Center ran past me, and one of them tripped and fell. I helped her up and directed the girls to a corner nearby where there was a Starbucks, giving them some money to get a drink while they waited for one of their parents. I made sure their ride was coming, then helped police direct other people out.
When I saw the paramedics run into the library, including my girlfriend, every muscle in my body went taut. No.
Greg arrived then, out of breath. “I parked a few blocks away,” he said.
“Anelya is in there.” I said.
He nodded. “I was afraid of that. Ken, how can we help?” He asked the Police Chief who jogged past us.
“Help keep people away.”
“Is anyone injured?” I asked, but no one stopped to answer.
“What if this is because of us? And now Anelya is in danger?” I knew my worry sounded in my voice.
Greg shook his head, and I knew he was wondering the same thing.
I looked at the crowd gathering along the barrier the police set up. And my glance caught on a young man in a hoodie. It was a warm August day, and everyone else had on t-shirts and shorts.
“Greg,” I said.
“I see him,” he said, moving forward slowly.
He looked a lot like the photo Anelya showed us. What was his name again? Justin? Jared?
From what I could see of his face, he did look like Stephen, but his intense gaze on the library was my main concern. He did not seem to have anything in his hands, though, as they were just down at his sides.
Then he looked at us and ran.
“Stop!” Greg yelled, and one of the police offers noticed.
“Stop him!” I said to the officer. “We think he might be involved.”
The officer moved even faster than we did, skirting past the crowd, but soon I could tell that the man in the hoodie had disappeared.
“My Lieutenant will want to talk to you,” he said, joining us. He wasn’t even winded.
I was still catching my breath. “We will, but can you tell us if anyone is hurt inside?”
Then we heard it. A muffled explosion.
Greg and I raced into the library, ignoring the shouts of the police officers trying to tell us to stop.
“Anelya!” Greg called her name.
The lobby was filled with smoke, and firefighters were hosing down a trash can near the entrance.
Then we saw her, helping out one of the security guards at the library, holding an oxygen mask to him.
“Mr. Grockton and Mr. Grockton, sirs, you need to go outside. Now.” The officer we’d been talking to got in front of us.
My eyes were streaming a bit among the acrid smoke.
“Anelya!” I called, though my voice was a bit hoarse.
