CHAPTER 20

SABNOCK RECEIVED the bomb call with only two hours of work left. The day had been slow and she was almost grateful for the break in boredom. Still, she wasn't looking forward to this incident, since she was the trained bomb specialist.

By the time she arrived at the school, everyone had been evacuated and the building was surrounded by policemen, firemen, paramedics and the press. Sabnock hated the press. They were the one group that could cause her some heartburn if her picture ever appeared in a newspaper or magazine.

Making sure her hat was pulled low over her forehead and her sunglasses firmly in place, she pushed through the crowd, keeping her head down. As she neared the police barricade, she heard someone call out to her.

"Sabnock? Hey, Sabnock, is that you?"

Looking around she spotted a man in his early forties, shoving his way toward her carrying a camera. A woman was following close behind, trying to avoid the bodies being pushed around.

"Sabby, we hunted all over for you," he exclaimed, smiling brightly.

"I'm sorry, do I know you?" she asked, instantly recognizing Squirrel from her time in Afghanistan.

"It's me, Squirrel," he said, patting her on the back.

Taking off her sunglasses, she stared blankly at him.

"Do I know you?"

Squirrel stepped back and bumped into his companion. Confused, he shook his head as if trying to clear is mind. His Sabnock had green eyes. This woman had blue eyes and was no more than thirty.

"Gosh, officer, I thought you were someone I knew a long time ago."

Glancing at her name tag, he frowned.

"You don't by chance have an older sister or cousin do you?"

"Not that I know of. Why?"

"Well, it's just that you look so much like Sabby and she had the same last name as you... not to mention red hair. If you were about fourteen or fifteen years older, I'd swear you were her."

"Look, I'm sorry I wasn't this Sabby person, but I have a job to do. Good luck in finding her."

Sabnock turned and stepped past several police officers, leaving Squirrel behind. Renewing old acquaintances was impossible. There'd be too many questions and no good answers.

"She wasn't this Sabby person?" his companion asked, tugging on his arm to get his attention.

"No," he replied sadly. "I wish she had been. The guys owed her a lot."

"Well, maybe one day you'll find her. Right now, though, we have a story to do. The boss expects us to take some good pictures for the six o'clock news."

Squirrel nodded. Now wasn't the time for nostalgia.

"Where's the bomb?" Sabnock asked the cop at the school entrance.

"Inside. Mac will show you. Your gear is inside."

"Thanks."

Other than Mac, the school was empty. Her bomb suit was sitting outside the classroom door, along with a helmet with a ballistic shield, special gloves and a built in cooling system. Putting on each section, she strapped everything as tight as she could, making sure there was little chance of something coming loose. After everything was secured, she told Mac to take off. If the bomb exploded before she could disarm it, the chances were the suit wouldn't keep her from being injured. If the explosives were powerful enough, it could even kill her.

Sabnock shuffled into the room and walked to the cabinet. The brown bag looked harmless enough but she wasn't fooled. Because of its size, there was a good chance it contained C4, a plastic explosive that was so powerful, a small amount could destroy several rooms.

Taking her time, she examined as many sides of the bag as possible. No wires or switches were visible. She hoped that meant the bottom was clear also. If it contained a pressure switch the moment she moved the bag, the bomb would be activated. Had the bomber placed the package on a lower shelf she would have called in the bomb-bot to remove it.

Placing the bag she had brought into the room with her, Sabnock slowly unzipped it and pulled out a large, flat, spatula-looking device. Hopefully, she could slip it under the package without activating any pressure switches. Carefully, she slid it under the bag, making sure her movements were slow and precise. Whenever she felt it hit something, she held her breath and stopped, waiting and listening. When nothing happened, she inched it a little further.

Sabnock knew she could use her powers to examine the contents but refused the temptation. Where was the challenge if she didn't play by the rules she had established long ago. She didn't just want to play human, she wanted to feel what they felt or at least as close to it as possible.

Today was the first time she had ever broken into a legitimate sweat, not the phony ones she had faked to keep others from being suspicious while in stressful situations. Even her heart pounded so loudly she could hear it beating.

So this is what it feels like. This is the fear they have to live with.

The thought was overwhelming. Sabnock had spent thousands of years hoping to experience almost all that was human. Her greatest achievement had been love. It was also her greatest loss. There had been moments of sadness, longing, joy, regret and many other emotions but never fear — until now. Why now?

The answer eluded her, but the fear was real.

Sabnock felt her hands trembling and released the grip on the slidebar. Looking curiously at the sweaty palms, she rubbed them together and then dried them on a rag. A voice from outside distracted her.

"Sabnock, you okay?"

"Mac, get the hell out of here," she yelled. "And you pull this trick again, I'll have you transferred to meter maid. Didn't anyone warn you not to sneak up on someone trying to deactivate a bomb?"

"Sorry. It was taking so long, I thought you might need something."

"No, but thanks. Now leave. It'll probably be another thirty minutes before I decide what to do with this thing."

"Okay. Good luck!"

Turning her attention back to the bomb, she grabbed the handle and continued pressing it under the bag. The sound of something clicking made her jump.