Kharum

Here’s another peek at some old digitized writing. Another alternative realm. Two kingdoms broke apart decades ago. For some, the separation meant loss of power and money. State-sponsored terrorism rocks residential sectors and commercial districts. These are, of course, denied. Even the highest ranking diplomats are unaware of the most dangerous plots.

Office of Strategic Resources

Peter Wessler dropped off his final report on clean water at the Office of Strategic Resources, internally known as the Office of International Intelligence (OII). Grabbing his jacket off the hook in his 4th-story office, Peter took the stairs to leave the building. Situated within the capital city of Khalate, the OII was part of a government block. It was surrounded by other organizations like the Department of Justice, Treasury, and the Congressional Meeting Hall. Peter stopped to talk with a supervisor’s assistant. Her name was Trish, and he had been trying to court her for months.

“Trish, are you going to the meeting tonight at Tranton’s?” Peter leaned on a beam just beside the exit door.

A van waited for delivery outside.

“Most definitely, Peter,” Trish said.

“Pete, please. And most excellent. I can buy you-”

Peter was interrupted by an explosion. No, two explosions. One from above, on the fourth floor, and the other in the basement. Trish’s eyes blew up to the size of golf balls. She grabbed Peter’s wrist.

“Let’s go!” Peter said.

Peter opened the door. The van outside exploded, sending shards of metal everywhere. Two passersby were shredded. One of the metal pieces ripped into Peter’s chest, piercing his aortic artery. He died in seconds. Trish managed to avoid the projectiles. But the force of the blast stunned her. She sat down to try to comprehend. While she waited for her hearing to return, the Office of International Intelligence collapsed, enveloping Trish and the 40 remaining employees who had survived the first blasts.

In the next twenty minutes, fifteen fire trucks arrived at the site. Captain Gregis, commander of the Capitol Emergency Services, ordered firefighters to search for any survivors. A crew of firefighters connected to the city’s water system and began dousing the burning van. 

“Lieutenant Davis!” Captain Gregis yelled.

“Sir?” Lt. Davis ran over a slab of concrete.

“Have the Capitol Police start a barricade around the site.”

Lt. Davis saluted and dashed off to carry out his orders.

“Sergeant Oliver!”

“Sir?”

“Inform the President of this situation. Unknown explosions at the Office of Strategic Resources.”

“I’ll tell him immediately.” Sergeant Oliver dashed over to the Department of Justice, the nearest building with a phone.

Captain Gregis panned the area around him. A few civilians were beginning to crowd the scene, but the police were pushing them back. No other buildings appeared damaged. A few vehicles were in the shared parking lot, but nothing large. 

“Corporal Reggie! Take a squad of police to check those vehicles for explosives. I want the rest of the government block evacuated. Send them home.”

“Sir. There is a meeting at Tranton’s of several ranking members of Congress,” Cpl. Reggie offered.

“Get them out of there!” Captain Gregis demanded.

As the corporal departed, Sergeant Oliver returned.

“The President has been informed, sir.”

“Thank you, Oliver. Inform the Sanitation Committee we need dumpsters. Lots of dumpsters.”