The Heart Donor (extract)

The Beginning of September

‘Skinny Latte,’ Jake said barely a second before his eardrums exploded. An earth-shattering bang, louder than anything he’d ever heard in his forty-two years, recoiled through Starbucks in Leicester Square. Like everyone in the crowded coffee shop, he turned around to see from where the explosion had originated. A second sudden and violent noise met him. The plate glass windows shattered, people screamed, parts of the ceiling caved in and jagged lumps of timber and brick flew through the air. Tables and chairs were smashed and upended. Moaning, damaged bodies were everywhere. Jake ended up face down on the floor, pinned against the serving counter where the force from the blast had left him.

What seemed like moments later the incessant noise from ambulance sirens, the wailing of the police cars brought him to consciousness. He kept completely still, his eyes closed, expecting a sudden surge of pain. Gingerly, he opened one eye, then the other, flicking dust and debris from his eyelids. He was surprised and encouraged that he could make out the blurred outline of people moving slowly but purposely through the swirling detritus that filled the air. Now and again they’d stop and bend down and tend to a person lying on the floor. Jake became aware of noises all around him; sounds he hadn’t heard before. After a bit he realised it was the wretched noise of people in pain. Some were yelling for help, some were screaming in agony, some just crying from shock and some, he guessed, were dying.

He thought immediately about Jodie. ‘Oh my god,’ he shouted, ‘I must find her.’ He struggled to his feet and started to weave his way through the carnage and destruction that lay before him. Overcome by shock and revulsion, he felt uncertain of his actions.
Should I stay and help? he wondered. But he’d been due to meet Jodie. He had to get to her. A medic pushed him to one side trying to reach someone lying on the floor. Ambulance men with stretchers passed in front of him, stepping carefully around and over inert bodies. Jake was not unaware of the awful scene around him; the many people lying still and lifeless, the broken and twisted chairs, the massive holes in the walls and ceiling with sharp, bent metal girders exposed, the millions of shards of glass covering the blood stained floor, the horrific injuries and the torn and disfigured limbs; but he was driven by one overriding thought – his concern for his beloved wife, Jodie.

He emerged from Starbucks and tried to head off down the east side of Leicester Square towards the Capital Radio building, where Jodie worked. He couldn’t. Police were blocking the way. He ran up to a barricade. ‘Please, I need to get through. My wife may be in that building,’ he pleaded with several police who were stopping access. He didn’t hear their reply. He’d caught sight of the Capital building. The façade was completely ripped away leaving a gaping hole stretching from the ground to the top of the building. Steel rods and iron girders, twisted and distorted, stuck out into the open air with lumps of fragmented masonry hanging from them. Most of the floors were collapsed into piles and heaps of concrete boulders, leaving jagged RSJs and broken bricks jutting out into the open air. Eerily, an occasional office, its chairs and desks still intact, appeared, seemingly hanging in thin air, as if a cross section had been cut right through. Firemen, perched on the ends of elevated ladders, were talking to their colleagues who were looking for survivors inside the remains of the building. Ambulances queued up like taxis. Once loaded up they took off, sirens blaring and making room for another to come in and pick up more of the wounded. Several large tents had been erected on the south side of the square. Jake watched as medics carried stretchers with wounded people into the tents; makeshift first aid stations, he guessed. Many stretchers, covered entirely with white sheets, were taken to different tents. He shuddered and staggered back to a lamppost, sliding down it until he was squatting on the floor.

Order your copy from Amazon.co.uk, Amazon.com and PublishAmerica