5 - Novel Train

The door wouldn't budge. But the door had a window. McClane turned sideways, stepped back a couple of feet to get some leverage, and smashed his shoulder through the glass panel. He brushed away the jagged shards and picked up the bomb. Summoning every bit of strength he had left, he wound his arm like a pitcher and hurled the bomb as far out over the tracks as he could manage. Then he threw himself onto the floor and waited for whatever Simon had planned.

* * *

The first car had just entered the far end of the station when its front wheels hit a black metal disk so tiny that even the most alert driver would never have noticed it. The disk, an electronic sen­sor, flashed in the darkness beneath the train. Its deadly signal reached the bomb as it hung in mid­air over the track. Detonation was instantaneous.

Zeus heard the explosion-a deafening blast that reverberated through the station-and shifted into automatic pilot. He pulled the transit cop to safety and shoved the yuppie back against the wall. Then he covered his head and prayed for God's mercy. People screamed and scattered and dived for the exits, as the rear car, wrenched by the blast from the rest of the train, flew sideways and came crashing down onto the platform. It cat­apulted across the length of the station and struck the stairs with a clang that boomed loudly enough to be heard clear across the Hudson to New Jersey.

A cloud of acrid gray smoke filled the station. Water suddenly rained from the emergency sprin­klers in the ceiling. The lights flickered out, and the station was plunged into total darkness. There were more screams of hysteria, the clatter of bricks falling like hail, the clamor of sirens at street level. Then the backup generator kicked in, providing a dim illumination that only added to the eeriness of the scene.

Zeus's eyes stung from the thickening billows of smoke, and he could smell the fire burning in the tunnel. He pulled himself to his feet and peered through the murk at the subway car lying sideways against the stairs. Damn Simon! And damn that asshole McClane, or whatever bits and pieces remained of him after the explosion, for being so reckless and self-destructive.

He blinked, rubbed his eyes, blinked again. Considering what he'd just been through, he felt in pretty good shape; shaken up, but no obvious serious injuries. But he must have taken a hit to the head, because he was definitely seeing things. Not double vision, which he would have ex­pected, but a much more traumatic illusion: Mc­Clane, bloodied and streaked with soot, woozily climbing out the subway window.

A crater-shaped pit had appeared in the middle of the park above the station. The streets were snarled with emergency personnel vehicles. While firemen sprayed the area with a chemical retardant to prevent the fire in the tunnel from spreading above ground, emergency medical ser­vice technicians were treating the wounded and loading the more serious cases onto ambulance stretchers. Uniformed cops had quickly thrown up wooden barricades to keep out the inevitable crowd of rubberneckers who wanted to get as close as possible to the scene. Reporters from all the media were shouting questions at the police and trying to interview anyone who emerged from the station.

The second explosion of the morning-and this one at Wall Street, America's financial cen­ter-was big news, a major story. The reporters all wanted confirmation that the two bombings were linked. Cobb had promised to fire anyone who so much as nodded at the press. Not a word from anyone. Period, the end.

The veteran reporters recognized McClane when he and Zeus staggered up the steps. They were all over him for a statement, but he brushed past them to join his colleagues for an update. An EMS team quickly checked him for broken bones, then washed and bandaged his cuts. He ignored their urging that he take a ride to the nearest hospital, to get X-rayed for internal bleed­ing, and collared Lambert for a report on the in­juries.

"A couple concussions, an old guy's pace­maker stopped, and a pregnant girl's water broke. That's it. You pulled off a miracle, Johnny," Lambert said admiringly.

McClane frowned. "That's the problem. The miracle part. Ever feel like a game was rigged for you to lose?"

Zeus shook his head. "You had to get to forty for this? White boys."

"I'm serious," said McClane. "What're the chances we'd make it down here? Zip, right? That bomb was going off. He wanted it to go off-right here."

"In the subway?" Lambert asked.


- Die Hard with a Vengeance, Chapter 5