Read Fanatics: Zero Tolerance for Free Online Page B

being deafened, Morris felt as if his ears were stuffed with cotton wool.
    In the same instant, the floor of the subway was whipped from under his feet as if it was a carpet being given a sharp tug. He fell to a floor that shuddered and tilted and crumbled even as he lay on it, and his nose and lungs filled with dust. Small, hard things hit him, and a heavier, dead weight that he thought must be earth seemed to pile up over his legs. He yelled as something razor sharp - flying glass, he supposed - whipped across his back.
    Then, suddenly, it was all over.
    He raised himself gingerly onto his hands and knees, kicking off the soil and stones and trying to blink away the purple spots that filled all but the very edges of his vision. He hurt just about everywhere, though above the general haze of pain the back of his neck and his hands especially were stinging as if they had been scalded.
    “Oh, God,” he heard someone say; but a high-pitched whine of tinnitus filling his head seemed almost to drown the voice out. Morris turned in the direction of whoever spoke, but could see nothing. “Oh, God, help me,” said the man again. “I can’t feel my legs.”
    “Where are you?” said Morris. “I can’t see properly yet. The light - it was so bright-”
    “Over here,” said the man. “Over here.”
    Morris crawled towards the place the voice was coming from. “Can anyone else see? What’s going on?"
    From somewhere else, there was the sound of a groan and someone stirring under rubble. “It was the IRA,” said a woman. “It must have been the IRA.”
    Morris was as yet too traumatised to think straight, but felt blurrily that this did not ring true. “I don’t understand,” he said. “What about the flash? Did anyone else see that?"
    “I saw it,” said the crippled man. “I thought it must be something electrical -” he paused as an idea struck him. “A gas explosion! That’s what it was - and something electrical set it off -”
    He was interrupted by a tearful howl from the woman. “Who cares what it was?” she cried. “Help me, somebody! I’m blind! Help me -”
    “You’re not blind!” Morris bawled back, desperately trying to resist the temptation to scream mindlessly for help along with her. He had never realised the idea of giving oneself up to panic could seem so seductive. “It’s just temporary, and it’s dark down here anyway. Keep on blinking and you’ll find your vision gradually returning.” He tried it himself, hoping he was not talking optimistic nonsense. “Panic’s not going to help. We have to keep calm until help arrives, and in the meantime, help ourselves.”
    “Okay,” said the crippled man unsteadily, “what can we do?"
    There was an expectant pause; the others were obviously waiting for Morris to say something. He had no clear idea of what to do next, however, and was a little surprised to find himself being looked to as a leader. “Right,” he said, trying to think of something, “right. Okay. Is there anyone here who can see yet?” There were a few negative murmurs. “Hold on a minute. How many of us are there down here anyway? Call out your names.”
    Several people spoke at once.
    “One at a time!” said Morris. “Start again.”
    “Jimmy,” said the crippled man.
    “Jean,” said the woman.
    “Mairead,” said someone else, a young woman’s voice.
    “Patricia,” said another. “Listen, there was a man near me when - when it happened. I don’t know where he is now. He might be unconscious, or buried under something.”
    “Okay,” said Morris, “it’s only a matter of time before help comes. If we just wait a little longer we’ll be able to see enough to assess the situation -”
    “How will anyone know we’re here?” said Jean.
    “Maybe we should keep quiet for a few moments and see if we can hear anyone digging for us,” suggested Jimmy.
    “Yeah,” said Morris, gratefully seizing on the idea, “let’s do that.” They all sat and