The bank guard watched the pickup pull up next to the drive-through ATMs and then returned to the game. The Giants were down three points with minutes to the final whistle. He had good money on these morons. His mother could play better.
He glanced again at the monitor while they set up another stupid play. The pickup was still there and he leaned closer, as if that would help him see what the problem was.
When the pickup exploded, he crashed back into his chair as if the concussion had reached him from the other side of the building.
He was still swearing and trying to get his breath as he spoke to the emergency operator. “Yes, a fire. What?” He held the phone away from his ear for a second. “Right. City One Bank, Delancey and Pitt.”
The operator was still speaking, but to an empty room. The guard was running for the fire doors. And coming up the hallway behind him fast was a searing wall of flames. He hit the door release and it opened first time. He crashed out and fell down the steps. The blast took out the doors and kept going, showering him with broken glass and hot twisted metal. But he was alive when he shouldn’t have been, and for that he would thank God every day he was in the ICU.