Chapter 27
A fierce gust of hot air engulfed them, singeing their hair and clothing. Chunks of concrete, glass, and metal tore through the street. Her ears rang with the shock of impact.
Hannah lay still until she felt Tom shift above her, then she exhaled.
Thank God, he was okay. That was the second time in as many hours that he’d taken the brunt of an explosion.
He lifted his head. “You okay?”
Trust him to ask her that. “I’m fine. You?”
“I’m good.”
Slowly, they sat up. Tom was covered in a fine layer of dust, a cut seeped on his forearm where something sharp had nicked him, and there was a graze on his cheek, just beneath his eye. Still, she drank in the sight of him. Once again, he’d saved her from harm.
“What was that?” she asked, wondering if she really wanted to know.
“Felt like an RPG.” He got up, shook himself off, then helped her to her feet.
Jamal darted over, looped his arms around both of them, and led them to the safety of the barricade.
“Get down.”
Hannah slid down it until she was sitting on the ground. No cuts or grazes, thank goodness. Tom had acted as a human shield. It was a miracle he was still alive.
Looking back, she stared in horror at the street where they’d been standing. It was a scene of total devastation. Smoking piles of concrete littered the road, cars were on fire—but most disturbing, were the panicked cries of the people affected by the blast.
How was the building still standing after that direct hit? Then she noticed the damage. It burned from within, like a pumpkin on Halloween, except the exterior was black and scorched.
There was a desperate yell and a man sprinted toward the fire, shouting in Arabic.
“There’s someone in there,” Hannah translated, gazing at Tom, horrified. “His cousin is still inside.”
“No!” Jamal tried to intercept him, but the man wriggled out of his grip and kept on going.
Tom followed, helping to subdue the man. Between them, they prevented him from running into the blazing inferno. Another freedom fighter came and led the distraught man away.
“Abu-al-Rashid’s nephew is inside,” Jamal told them when they got back to the barricade.
Tom drew in a sharp breath. “Let’s see if he’s alive.”
Hannah gasped. “You can’t go in there.” It looked like the burning gates of hell.
Tom surveyed the building. “The grenade hit the front of the house. We may still be able to get him out.”
God, no.
She watched, horrified, as the two men pulled their bandanas over their mouths and approached the burning building.
They were so brave, or totally insane.
Thick smoke billowed out of the door and windows—or rather the gaping holes where the doors used to be. Inside, it glowed orange as flames devoured everything in sight.
Surely, they weren’t going to go in there.