Dust filled the air. The rooftop restaurant was a warzone of shattered glass and broken wood. The deafening echo of the explosion still rang in Rick's ears.
Rick lay on the floor, his body covering Rachel. He coughed, waving the thick grey smoke away from his face.
Beneath him, Rachel was trembling. Her hands gripped his black shirt tightly. Her chest heaved up and down against his.
"Oh my god," Rachel gasped. She looked around at the destroyed restaurant in pure panic. "Rick... what was that? Are we under attack?"
"Yeah. Some asshole just blew up the floor below us," Rick muttered. He brushed a chunk of plaster off his shoulder.
"Terrorists," Rachel stammered, her eyes wide with terror. "It has to be a terrorist attack. They are going to kill us all."
Rick let out an annoyed sigh. "It's not terrorists, Rachel. It's just my luck. I finally get a hot doctor in a tight dress to agree to come to my hotel room, and the whole damn building blows up."
