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The dashboard shook Hot coffee slopped over my hand I shouted, “What the hell?” A fewout, “Reports of an explosion at Market and Fourth Nearby units identify and respond”

I durabbed the mic, and told Dispatch ere two blocks away as Conklin accelerated up the hill, then braked so that our car slewed across Fourth Street, blocking traffic

We bolted fro, “Lindsay, watch out There could be secondary explosions!”

The air was opaque with roiling s rubber, plastic, and huing eyes, and fought againstreflex I took in the hellish scene — and my hair literally lifted away from the back of my neck

Market Street is awith cohdad after a suicide bo in circles, blinded by panic and a screen of smoky haze

I called Chief Tracchio, reported that I was the first officer on the scene

“What’s happening, Sergeant?”

I told him what I saw: five dead on the street, two more at the bus stop “Unknown nuhed into the phone

“You okay, Boxer?”

“Yes, sir”

I signed off as cruisers, fire rigs, and EMS units, their sirens whooping, streamed onto Market and for traffic Moments later, the command vehicle rolled up, and the boray protective suits, poured onto the debris field

A bloodied woht her as her knees buckled, and Conklin and I helped her to a gurney

“I saw it,” the victim whispered She pointed to a blackened hulk at the intersection “That school bus was a bomb”

“A school bus? Please, God, not kids!”

I looked everywhere but saw no children