Quantico
“The blast region was cluttered with ripped and dented plastic barrels, big gas cylinders, chunks of concrete, blownout wooden walls, and debris of every size, including splinters fine as toothpicks. Trees behind the barn had been set on fire and a thin haze still lay over the farm.
The farmhouse nearest to the barn had been pushed from its foundation and leaned to one side, boards shivered from its walls, windows blown out. The farther house, shielded by the main house and some trees, had survived, but its windows, too, were gone. Someone had taped blue plastic over them.
William walked past stacked piles of debris to the big hole in the ground where the barn had once stood and stooped to peer down. The central pit—the middle of the barn’s basement—was a maze of concrete-crusted rebar. Reflective tape had been laid over the barn’s rectangular outline in a grid, staked on all sides, large coordinate numbers glued where the tape crossed.
Rebecca stayed a few steps back, giving William h...is space, his time.MoreLess
The farmhouse nearest to the barn had been pushed from its foundation and leaned to one side, boards shivered from its walls, windows blown out. The farther house, shielded by the main house and some trees, had survived, but its windows, too, were gone. Someone had taped blue plastic over them.
William walked past stacked piles of debris to the big hole in the ground where the barn had once stood and stooped to peer down. The central pit—the middle of the barn’s basement—was a maze of concrete-crusted rebar. Reflective tape had been laid over the barn’s rectangular outline in a grid, staked on all sides, large coordinate numbers glued where the tape crossed.
Rebecca stayed a few steps back, giving William h...is space, his time.MoreLess
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