The Sentinel

Marking Time

Disclaimer: The characters of "The Sentinel" belong to Pet Fly, etc and are used here without permission. No copyright infringement is intended.
Rating: Suitable for all ages
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Marking Time

Nineteen hours, eight minutes and thirty-two seconds.

That is how long itís been since they went into the warehouse to search out the stolen artifact.

That is how long they have been searching for my two friends who were in the warehouse when the explosion sounded and the building collapsed.

That is how long anxiety has been eating at my insides and pouring adrenaline into my system.

That is how long I have been in hell.

It had all seemed so simple. The suspects had been seen entering and leaving the warehouse. Vans had been seen pulling up to the shipping doors and leaving again. The suspects were mostly non-violent so there had been little concern about sending people in to look around.

They should have known. I should have known. Nothing is ever that easy in Cascade.


Nineteen hours twelve minutes and twenty-three seconds.

There is still no sign of either man and I continue to refuse the comfort that the others try to give. I ignore the rescue workers who are working hard and whispering among themselves about the decreasing chances of finding someone alive.

They are both alive.

They have to be.


Twenty hours three minutes and fourteen seconds.

One of the workers calls out excitedly. The others rush to the area. A flurry of activity takes place as pieces of the building are tossed aside.

Suddenly the frantic activity stops and the rescuers begin working more slowly, working carefully.

One of them turns and motions for the paramedics to come.


Twenty hours thirty-seven minutes and forty-two seconds

A second set of paramedics is motioned over, but my anxiety is still riding high.

There are too many people in the way and I canít see through them.

I canít hear whatís being said, my ears are still ringing from the explosion. I look over at Henry and see he is having the same problem.

Someone better talk to us soon.

I decide I canít wait any longer and begin pushing my way through the crowd toward the ambulances.


Twenty hours fifty-one minutes and thirteen seconds.

I get my first look at them and find it impossible to express my relief that they are both alive.

I feel tears prickling at the back of my eyes as relief replaces anxiety and hope replaces fear.

I reach out and squeeze Rafeís shoulder as they load him into the first ambulance. But my attention is already on the second prone form.

Walking to the side of the stretcher, I look down and see familiar eyes staring back.

I feel the prickle at the back of my eyes increase as the adrenaline dump stops. I canít quite hear the words, but I know what heís asking.

ďMy dials are fine,Ē I reply, unable to wipe the smile from my face. ďMy ears are just ringing a bit, but thatís fading.Ē

An oxygen mask is slipped over Blairís face then and anything he would have said is lost to me. Instead, he reaches up and I take his hand, gently squeezing it before they take him away.

Iíll follow along and be there for him at the hospital.

But for now, at least, I can stop marking time.


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