There was nothing else for it, Tank thought to himself; he was going to have to go in even closer. It was by no means the best solution, and might well end up getting them all killed, but he needed to examine the box in more detail. Everything he'd observed so far concerned him greatly, but it was impossible to see everything from where he stood. Partly concealed digits seemed to be changing all the time indicating, if he was right, the presence of a timer of some sort. Needing to know more, taking a breath, he stepped forward as gently as he could, desperate not to move the table, even a hair's breadth. Nothing happened, apart from his heart beating faster... so much so, he could feel it pounding in his ears. He tried to put that to one side, just to ignore it. But it wasn't easy, particularly given what he could see now that he was a little closer. As well as the metal, which was most certainly laminium, he could just make out the edge of what looked like a gyroscope.
'So no picking it up or touching it in any way, shape or form,' he thought. Cautiously, he leant over the top of it, twisting his neck to get a better angle from which to look through the glass panel. If it was supposed to show the numbers inside, counting down, somebody had done a terrible job on that count. Or perhaps the digital display had slipped across and dropped down out of sight of the window. Either way, he needed to know exactly how much time remained on that countdown. Closing his eyes, he scrolled through all the mantras he knew, to see if anything there could help him.
Behind him, Peter whispered,
"Is it safe to come forward?"
"Slowly and carefully," Tank responded. "I'm pretty sure there's a gyroscope inside. I guess if it moves even a fraction, it'll go off."
"It's a bomb then?"
"That would be my best guess... yes," answered Tank in a hushed tone.
"What are we going to do?"
"First things first. We need to know exactly how long's left on the timer. But it's impossible to see the numbers, as the display looks like it's been dislodged."
Looking at the box close up for the first time, Peter craned his head to see if he could see what Tank meant. Looking closely at the slightly curved edge of the laminium that could be seen, he noticed the tiniest speckle of red light. It changed slightly. And again. It was a mirror image reflection of the countdown, clearly from the light of the numbers bouncing around inside the dark metal frame of the box. Instantly he told his friend. Having a look, the butch rugby player agreed at once and then, with a little of his power, flooded his vision to enhance the sensory capacity of both eyes. Once done, he had little problem zooming in right onto the image on the rare metal. It was then just a case of working out the numbers, because the image had been mirrored... easy for any dragon. The answer shook him to his very core. Fourteen minutes, twenty seven seconds... and counting!
From the look on his friend's face, Peter knew things were bad, he just didn't know how bad. Tank told him.
"We need to contact the King's Guards... NOW!" cried Peter.
"We need to evacuate the building first," announced Tank.
"You're right of course... but how?"
Just then, Janice appeared at the gap that only minutes earlier had held an office door, now convinced that no one downstairs had heard what had gone on.
"Well...?" she asked, wanting to know what was happening.
Peter swallowed nervously.
"We need to get everyone out of here... this instant!"
"Why?" she responded. "What is it?"
Turning, he looked in Tank's direction. The huge rugby playing dragon nodded his approval.
"It's a bomb," Peter announced, turning back towards the woman of his dreams.
"A BOMB!" cried Janice. "How the hell can it be a bomb?"
"It would take too long to explain," added Peter, putting his arm around the petite blonde's waist. "And it's time we really don't have. Do you think you can help?" he pleaded.
"What am I going to tell everybody?"
"You won't have to tell them anything," declared Tank, strolling purposefully to the far end of the function room that overlooked the sports pitches through a majestically curved, giant glass window.
"I'm not sure what you..." Janice's voice trailed off as Tank moved away from the architecturally stunning windows to one of the adjoining walls, stopping right next to a bright red square... one of the fire alarms.
"All you have to do is help get everybody out, and to the far side of the car park, as far away from here as possible. As you go down the stairs, tell them the upper level is clear, but make sure... everyone is out!"
Nodding, making it clear she understood exactly what was expected of her, she still had one last thing to ask, despite the urgency of the situation.
"But what about the two of you?"
"We'll stay a while and see if there's anything we can do. Don't worry," whispered Peter, smiling all the while, "we'll be out in time. You have my word."
Leaning down, he kissed her passionately on the lips. Tank smiled, and then put his fist through the glass of the alarm, a high pitched wail shattering the peace, infusing the whole building with a sense of urgency. Pulling away from Peter, Janice sprinted out into the corridor, heading towards the stairs. Looking at each other for a brief moment, the two friends shared the surreal moment. For Peter, it felt like the whole bonfire night scenario all over again.
In the end, it was Tank who broke the silence (well... not quite).
"Time to contact the King's Guard."
"Do you want to do it?" asked Peter.
"Why don't we both do it? That way they'll get some sense of urgency, and perhaps send the best dragons for the job.
Nodding his agreement at the suggestion, both friends closed their eyes and reached out with their minds.
* * *
Approximately twenty minutes ago, it had all started. First in Montreal, Canada, with an initial explosion that was huge and had originated somewhere close to the Old Port. As well as devastating everything within a two mile radius, the blast had unleashed a deadly tidal wave up and down the St Lawrence river, demolishing everything in or around the shore on both sides of the waterway. The Victoria Bridge to the south had been wiped from the face of the earth, while the Concord Bridge, almost at the centre of things, had been decimated instantly. Because the bomb was made from laminium, a psychic wave, fatal to any dragons in an even larger radius, accompanied the original detonation.
Buildings had been reduced to rubble as far as the eye could see. Cars and boats had been flung great distances, as if they were toys discarded by a toddler's tantrum. Fires raged. The earth shook. Thick black smoke littered the sky line. Dead and broken bodies lay everywhere. Dragons in their human guises up to twenty miles away collapsed and died instantaneously. The Montreal part of the dragon domain crumbled in on itself, despite all the mantras supposedly keeping it safe, crushing hundreds of dragons all at once, as well as trapping others in shops, cafes, houses and stricken monorail carriages.
Of course something of that magnitude doesn't go unnoticed. Help from the dragon world had already arrived, prepared for anything. Anything but this. Those arriving on the scene had never experienced anything like it. They'd attended a lot of different emergencies, but nothing on this scale.