Diplomacy and Lust Part Five
Dave never saw it coming; the explosion caught him completely off guard. The explosion was intense; hot, deafening, blinding. Dave was thrown into air and landed hard against the concrete; smashing his head. His vision went blurry. He was covered in dirt and dust. An eerie silence settled over the plaza as dust still clung to the air obscuring his blurry vision even further. He could barely make out the rough, in descript shapes of people moving slowly, staggering through the dust.
The sound of automatic gunfire suddenly ripped threw the haunting quiet. Dave, his instincts taking hold, started to come to his senses and he crawled behind a large potted plant for protection not sure which direction the gun fire was coming from. The sounds in the plaza were playing tricks on his perception. Voices shouted in terror. Somewhere through the thick dust a child's shrill, terrified voice cut threw the sounds of gunfire. Dave could hear the bullets ricocheting off the walls. He grimaced at the sound of each ricochet - waiting for one of the bullets to rip hotly threw his flesh.
Dave felt up and down his body to check if he'd been wounded in the blast. His heart pumped rapidly as adrenaline shot through him, his head felt like it was going to burst with pain. He coughed, inhaling the dust that still clung to the air. Dave felt wetness on his hand; he was bleeding. A bit of shrapnel had torn threw his pants and cut his calf.
Dave tried not to panic. The gunfire continued; AK-47s no doubt. Dave thought to himself This has to be al-shabab. How the fuck am I going to get out of this? Am I going to die here? Dave froze himself stiff as he saw figures moving decisively through the dust toward his direction.
"Nate, oh my god, did you hear?" Susan came running into Dave's cubicle, a look of utter panic on her face; terror in her voice.
Nate, startled, glanced up, "Susan, what the hell are you so worked up about?"
"The plaza, it's been attacked. Al-shabab detonated a bomb and now they're attacking people in the plaza with weapons." Susan said shrilly, her face red and tears streaming down her eyes.
It took a minute for Nate to register what Susan had said. "The plaza, you said? Here in Nairobi?" Nate asked confused.
"Yes! Right in here in town!" Susan said with an air of annoyance as she sped off to talk to colleagues standing few cubicles away.
Wait a minute! Nate thought to himself Dave said he was going to be at the plaza today for a working lunch.
Panic surged through Nate as he shot up from his seat. His phone buzzed. He reached for it desperately thinking it may be Dave calling to tell him he was fine but it was an emergency message from the State Department telling him what he already knew about the attack.
By now everyone had heard the news or received the message and a frenzied panic set over the office. People scrambled to call their spouses and friends to see if everyone was ok. Someone flipped on the news and the story was already all over the stations. The number of dead was unconfirmed but estimated to be high. The police and army had yet to enter the plaza. Reports said the plaza was still under siege by armed gunmen but no one could confirm how many.
God this is West Gate all over again. Nate thought to himself. This shit wasn't supposed to happen again. He thought angrily. Al-Shabab had launched sporadic attacks in Northern Kenya and at Garissa, sadly killing hundreds, but nothing had happened in Nairobi since Westgate.
Guilt surged through Nate as he thought back to his last conversation with Dave. The two had a furious fight and of about all things it was about gay rights. Dave was absolutely incensed at Nate because he had suggested that the USA had bigger issues than gay rights to hold Kenya accountable for. President Obama, during his July visit to the country, had with great controversy raised the issue of gay rights. Dave railed against Nate saying of all people, Nate should understand how important gay rights were to the gay Kenyans living in fear every single day, unable to be themselves openly.
Nate had countered saying that just because he was gay didn't mean that he couldn't prioritize other important issues that had a much wider affect on the majority of Kenyans; battling corruption, improving the rule of law, increasing access to basic resources like clean water, battling diseases like HIV and malaria and ironically improving the security situation were all on the top of Nate's list. Being gay didn't automatically mean that he had to put gay rights above everything else he had screamed at Dave.
The two went their separate ways fuming at each other with anger; the matter completely unresolved. It was such a petty and stupid argument especially looking back on it now.
Nate knew that he wasn't being the most reasonable person at the time of the fight; something else was bothering him that fueled his desire to lash out at Dave. A new State Department employee had transferred into the facility Ð young, in shape, very handsome- and the new guy and Dave were already all chummy and friendly. Nate didn't want to admit it but he was jealous at the amount of time the two were spending together Ð lifting, golfing, going for lunch.
The way Dave smiled at this new guy irked Nate. The way this guy smiled right back made Nate's gaydar burst in full force. He would have bet his aunt elma and uncle arnie that this new guy was gay and into Dave. Looking back, Nate realized how petty he had been.
Hell he and Dave weren't even officially together. There were no rules saying Dave couldn't fuck this guy's brains out if he wanted to do so. Nate just assumed that with the way things were going, he didn't have to worry about any competition. Now, though, wasn't the time to focus on all that drama, Dave could be hurt or even worse. Nate's eyes flicked back to the tv hoping for any kind of update. As he watched, he kept dialing Dave.
Dave held his breath. The figures kept getting closer to him. As the dust finally settled, he could tell they were masked, armed with automatic weapons. The men screamed and fired sporadically throughout the plaza aiming at whatever moved.
The masked gunmen were just feet from him. Looking around desperately, there was nothing in sight that Dave could use to defend himself. With the dust gone, Dave could see the bodies strewn about the plaza. Some writhed, clearly injured. Others didn't move at all. The moans of the wounded clung to the air and the horrible smells of blood and death started to seize the air too. Dave panicked with each step the gunmen gained not knowing if these would be his last few minutes on earth. The gunmen, finally close enough to make out the color of their eyes, spotted the potted plant he hid behind.
Fuck. Shit. I'm done. They see where I'm hiding. This is it. I'm dead. Dave thought to himself.
An hour had passed and Nate still couldn't reach Dave. His stomach felt like it had a two ton weight in it; he had never felt this sick with worry in his life. Nate just kept dialing; over and over and over and over hoping each time wouldn't be like the last, hoping that Dave would finally answer. The worst thoughts ran through Nate's mind. He couldn't imagine the panic and utter horror Dave was going through right now. A tinge of guilt and shame pulsated through Nate because in the back of his mind; he was glad he wasn't there himself.
All around him, people cried or burst out with anger. Some just stared at the television in shock. Everyone felt the collective weight of what this situation meant; everyone likely knew someone in that plaza. The possibility that the community had lost colleagues, friends or knew someone who had lost someone in this brutal attack was very real. Life wouldn't return to normal for many months to come; a sense of helplessness permeated through the atmosphere. Nate dialed and dialed and kept glancing at the screen. Suddenly a news anchor came on with a breaking report.
The masked men had drawn their guns and pointed them at Dave; they had finally seen him. Backed into a corner, Dave didn't have anywhere to go. The gunmen stood between him and the exit. Dave could run but he'd only be dodging bullets until he reached the wall behind him.
Dave jumped to his feet; the gunmen looked startled. They pointed their weapons right at Dave and began to scream wildly.
BOOM, BOOM, BOOM, BOOM
Explosions rocked the plaza. Gunfire erupted again; this time more of it. Dave dropped to the ground again as dust filled the air once more. The plaza was utter chaos as more explosions rang out. A weird gas started to fill the plaza.
Holy shit! Are there more of them? What the fuck is going on. Jesus Christ in heaven. Dave thought to himself.
Dave's mind went blank as he passed out onto the cold pavement.
"This just in," the news reporter started, "The Kenyan military in coordination with the Kenyan police have entered the plaza in a decisive action. The explosion sounds you hear behind me, we are informed, are stun grenades meant to disorient the gunmen. The plumes you see behind me are not dust but tear gas instead as an added measure to disorient the assailants.
The entire room erupted with cheers.
"TAKE THOSE BASTARDS DOWN!" Someone screamed.
"After the West Gate attack, the Kenyan military and police have made significant steps to better coordinate their responses. The effort you're seeing behind us is evidence of the increased joint preparedness." The reporter said calmly, "We are informed that every effort is being made to take the attackers alive so that intelligence can be gathered from the assailants."
Dave woke up completely disoriented on the ground. He felt wetness on his legs. As he groggily looked around him he noticed that he was lying in a pool of blood. Panic surged threw his body again as he felt up and down his body while dragging himself from the pool of blood. With an enormous sigh of relief, he realized he still had all his limbs and no puncture wounds Ð the blood wasn't his.
Camouflaged men rushed towards him; Kenyan military by the looks of them but Dave couldn't be sure. Al-Shabab could have dressed in military gear as a disguise.
The men spoke rapidly to him in a mix of Swahili and English. Still in shock, he stared bewildered at them, barely able to understand a word that was being said. He understood enough to know that if they wanted him dead, he'd already have been killed.
He muttered, "Get me the hell out of here! Get me home!" and collapsed in utter fatigue on the pavement.
TO BE CONTINUED