"Also, Chloe—help me check the surveillance around here. I'm looking for an Asian male wearing a white baseball cap. I suspect he's the one who planted the bomb…"
"Sorry, Owen. I can't do that right now—our system is undergoing an upgrade…"
"How long will it take?"
"At least thirty minutes."
Fuck!
The nearby trash can became Owen's punching bag again.
Worried about the situation upstairs, he returned to the mall. By now, the elevators had resumed operation. Right after the fire alarm had been triggered, the hotel staff had dispatched personnel to check on things. Once it was confirmed to be a false alarm, elevator service was restored, and employees were busy explaining everything to the frightened guests.
Owen returned to the seventh floor. The hotel security team, apparently trained for emergencies, had already retrieved first aid kits and were treating the wounded.
As Owen stepped back into the theater, he spotted Monica with the others huddled in a relatively safe, open corner.
But instead of going to them, he shouted loudly, "Everyone—check your surroundings for any suspicious items! Unattended backpacks, suitcases, anything that could conceal a bomb! Stay away from them—there might be more than one device!"
His words caused immediate panic. People cried out in fear, and someone yelled, "Oh my God! There's a bag next to me! I don't want to die—someone help me, get me out of this damn place!"
Similar cries erupted from several spots around the theater. Owen raised his hands and shouted, "Calm down! Stay calm! Don't make sudden movements—slowly and quietly move away from the suspicious items!"
Many people backed off, and thankfully, among them were some quick-witted individuals who helped guide others to safety, softly moving away from any potentially dangerous objects. Several areas with suspicious items were isolated.
"Like this—press here. That'll slow the bleeding. Hopefully, he can hold on until the paramedics arrive…"
Owen passed the injured person he'd been treating to another helper. There wasn't much else he could do but apply what first aid knowledge he'd learned from SEAL training to help as many people as possible.
Monica joined in as well. With her SWAT background, she had emergency training. There were far too many wounded for Owen to handle alone.
Amanda, Ken, and Julia helped too. There wasn't much they could do, but they all wanted to contribute—especially Julia. The famous singer surprisingly knew a bit of medical care and was able to help several injured victims.
The movie's cast and crew had been farther from the explosion and were mostly unharmed. In this moment of crisis, everyone dropped their celebrity personas and did what they could to help.
Everyone was doing their part to assist the wounded—except for the journalists, who stuck to their roles. They maneuvered their cameras skillfully, capturing the tragedy and the compassion, especially highlighting the film's cast and Julia Andrews.
"Can you hear me? You're going to be okay…"
"My leg… I can't feel my leg…"
"Ma'am, where does it hurt?"
"I can't hear what you're saying—am I deaf?"
"Sir, please lie flat. It'll help your injuries…"
"Don't worry, I've got your wound compressed. You'll be alright. God's watching over you…"
"Someone help me—please!"
"Okay, okay—turn your head. Don't look at the wound. Look at me. You're going to be fine, trust me…"
"Ma'am, let me help you out of here…"
…
The cameras recorded every frame—raw and heartbreaking, yet deeply moving. This wasn't for show; it was the most honest display of human compassion in the face of disaster.
The helplessness of the injured, the way the celebrities' hands trembled with anxiety yet they still forced themselves to help—even if it was just emotional comfort—was all too real.
By now, most people had been moved from the theater into the corridor outside. Fortunately, it was a mall, so space wasn't an issue—even with hundreds of people around, it didn't feel cramped.
Soon, with a ding, the elevator opened. The first wave of rescuers had arrived.
The elevator carried paramedics. Because space was tight, the stretchers had been squeezed in vertically. Now that the medical team was here, fresh energy flowed into the rescue efforts.
Patients were triaged according to the severity of their injuries. The most critical were immediately placed on stretchers and taken down via the freight elevator—the only one big enough to accommodate stretchers.
More ambulances had arrived. Some responders, unwilling to wait, simply took the escalators. Injured people were carried out batch by batch, and CTU agents and police began arriving at the scene.
"Owen, what's the situation?"
Heartbeat was the first CTU agent to show up. Unable to wait for the elevator, he'd sprinted up the escalator.
"Not good. A lot of casualties. I think the attacker detonated a hidden explosive, but we may have an unexploded one here too. Has the bomb squad arrived?"
"They're right behind me."
In the past, CTU didn't have its own bomb unit. Explosives incidents required assistance from the LAPD or FBI. But since Jack Bauer rose to leadership, he had pushed for major reforms, and CTU now had its own Explosive Ordnance Disposal Unit—though everyone still called it the "bomb squad."
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Soon, several techs in full bomb suits emerged from the elevator, carrying tool cases as they entered the theater. CTU's field team began using sandbags and other materials to construct a blast shield near the theater entrance.
Ring ring ring…
Owen's phone rang—it was Chloe. But when he answered, it was Tony's voice on the line.
"Hey, Tony—I thought you'd already left…"
"I was supposed to fly out tomorrow morning, but looks like I won't be going anywhere. This mess is more important. What's the situation?"
Owen gave Tony a quick rundown of everything that had happened so far. Then the call switched back to Chloe.
"Owen, I found the man you described—Asian male, white baseball cap. He got into a car and drove off. Do you want me to send you his location?"
"Absolutely. Send it to my phone. And keep tracking him—I'm heading out now. Any chance we've got an ID?"
"No, not enough data. He was careful—hat brim was low, cameras didn't get a clear look at his face."
"Okay. I'll have Heartbeat bring back the cinema's security footage for you. Maybe you'll catch something. Oh, and I'll have them collect every cell phone they can find—this was a premiere. Tons of people were recording on their phones. Maybe someone caught a shot of that bastard."
"Got it."
Owen hung up and relayed all that info to Heartbeat. Then he asked, "Lend me your car. Got gear inside?"
"Yeah. What are you planning to do?"
Heartbeat tossed him the keys.
"Chloe tracked the suspect. I'm going to see if I can catch him—but I didn't bring my gun…"
"I'm coming with you."
Heartbeat wasn't about to let Owen go solo. The two of them rushed toward the elevator. Owen grabbed another CTU field agent along the way and quickly passed on all his earlier instructions.
Outside the mall, some quick-responding media outlets had already arrived. But they were being kept behind a police barricade by officers guarding the scene.
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