[Chapter 1: Rollercoaster]Clank, clank, clank.The anti-rollbacks of the Demon roller coaster rang out as metal hit metal. The typical sound of a

roller coaster taking its long rise to the top only to drop its terrified riders into a mess of track that would turn them upside down, throw them up, down and side to side. For Peter it was his last day on the job. The season ended tomorrow and it was back to school for him, which meant no more job, just the dreaded load of school work that lay ahead of him. For California’s Great America it had been a fantastic season. No issues, lots of people entering the gates. The summer was nice and warm, and the crowds were plentiful. Which meant the park would surely open for the next season.

“Clear,” said the dispatcher with a pause, “acknowledged, dispatch.” The train in the station began to leave dipping into the tunnel that followed. It took its brave riders through darkness; then it took them up the lift hill where the clanking began. Afterwards it was released from the chain into a short left turn and then down into two vertical loops. After a brief pause and a turn around, the train sped up again through a cave narrowly missing the sides of the rockwork, and finally it through its riders into a series of corkscrews before slamming into the final brake run.

Peter Anson was positioned across from the dispatcher who also was operating the ride for his last day. But unlike Peter, the dispatcher, Brady Benson was not returning to school. Instead, he was returning to unemployment. No school, no work, a casualty of rough economic times. A wonder how the park remained so busy during a tough financial period, but it did. That was the least of everyone’s worries though.

Peter would be returning to Stanford the next day. Stanford, one of the most prestigious schools on the west coast, had been Peter’s home for 3 years. Set to graduate at the end of the academic school year, Peter had his mind set on engineering. He wanted to build bridges, houses, buildings; it didn’t matter what it was; whatever it was, he wanted to build it. Ever since he was young, he played with Lincoln logs, tinker toys, and Legos. He was creative, a problem solver. Math was his strong suit. He could tell you how fast the train would be going at precise locations so long as you gave him the proper mass, height, and conditions prior to the point. He was what Brady would call a genius.

Brady, on the other hand, was the complete opposite. Narrowly graduating, he neglected to go to college, instead enlisting in the army. After being accepted, trained and deployed, Brady arrived in Iraq to face challenges he would have never believed he would see. Immediately upon entering the region, his unit came into combat in transport to his base outside of Baghdad, Iraq. In the firefight that ensued, 3 of 5 members on Brady’s team were killed by gunfire or IEDs. Brady suffered severe shrapnel wounds from a particular blast that had taken his best friends life. He woke up in an Iraqi hospital three weeks later to find out his injuries were so severe it would take at least a year before he could recover. He was honorably discharged and sent back to the United States as soon as he was healthy enough to fly. No school, no job, living off of what the military owed him for his service, if you would call it a service, Brady was beyond depression.

He applied for various schools around San Francisco as he lived with his parents in their small house outside of Concord, a suburb near the bay. No luck, no school would accept him, so he applied for a job with California’s Great America. He got the job at the start of the season.

It had been a year since that fateful day in Iraq. You could see some of the many scars on Brady’s right forearm. Doctors had said Brady was lucky. Nearly all of the shrapnel had made puncture wounds near his chest. The surgeons stopped counting at 25 pieces of shrapnel and said they kept operating for hours as they continued to find more. At the time, every doctor in Baghdad gave Brady a less than 10 percent chance of survival. Yet here he was, alive operating a roller coaster. He was well built, 6’3 about 200 pounds. Very muscular, the blue uniform he wore barely hid the immense power of his body.

Peter, however, was about 5’10, slender at about 150 pounds. The complete opposite, labeled as a nerd all through high school. He had no interesting history to talk about; just school, more school and probably some school to follow. The job was just to help with books, and other necessities while in school for the coming year.

Despite the differences, over the summer season Brady and Peter had become good friends. Often hanging out after hours around the town. Brady, just 20 years of age, couldn’t go to bars or numerous clubs, so they would often just go have dinner hang out, catch movies. Neither of them had a girlfriend, or anybody else to spend time with. All of Brady’s friends had enlisted with him in the military, including his best friend who was killed by an IED, or improvised explosive device, that nearly took Brady’s life as well. Peter’s friends had all gone to school in different places of the United States. They would come to visit, but most of them had moved to their respective cities where their universities were.

An hour into the last operating day, it was already getting incredibly busy. The line filled nearly all the switchbacks in the small queue line that they had to hold the people waiting for the Demon. Despite the stress that would ensue for the rest of the day, the two boys were pumped and ready for what the day held. The shift leader walked up onto the dock and replaced Brady who then came on the dock to assist Peter in checking the trains. So it was Peter on the loading side and Brady on the unloading side.

The two of them hurried repeatedly trying to dispatch the trains as quickly as they could while remaining as safe as they could. They were good at their jobs, efficient, providing great service to the guests who were now waiting for an hour and a half for a short ride on the Demon. After about an hour, Kristine Parker walked up on dock reporting for duty to the shift leader in the dispatch booth. Kristine was scheduled in late to assist the shift leader in giving Peter and Brady their breaks and their meal periods for the day.

“Hey boys.” Kristine flashed as she walked up through the exit gate.Peter replied immediately with a big smile. “Hey Kristine!”Brady knew that Peter had a crush on Kristine and rightly so. Kristine was drop dead gorgeous.

Not even the ugly red shirt she wore could hide the beauty she boasted. With long blond hair, slender athletic body, graceful blue eyes, she was a sight for any single man. She was blessed with a great body. The only thing that Peter couldn’t stand, she genuinely did not like him. Instead, she liked Brady, and sought to it to let him know it. Day after day during the summer she would come onto him flirting while in front of everyone, including Peter. Peter hated it.

Kristine replaced Peter because it was time for him to take his first rest period for the day. He left the dock towards the nearest break room. The break room, noticeably empty, had just a few tables and a drinking fountain as well as a bathroom. Peter did his business sat down to relax for a few before returning to work.

Meanwhile, on dock, Kristine was staring across the dock at the increasingly uncomfortable Brady. Brady, was just plain not into Kristine. Brady had not interest to talk to her; he just wanted to get the day over with so he could go home and relax before hanging out with Peter later that night. Kristine, oblivious to her surroundings, continued to pay more attention to Brady than the guests who she was supposed to be providing a service to. Their shift leader didn’t say anything, which antagonized Brady because he didn’t want to be held responsible for anything that would happen because of Kristine’s inattention to duty. So after a train had been dispatched he looked over to her, “Hey Kristine, knock it off. I don’t want to talk.”

“Oh come on, Brady. Just want to say hi.”“Hi.” He paused in disgust, “Now bring the train in.” Kristine had left the second train out on the waiting block prior to the station. Noticing her

mistake she pressed the button to bring the train in. The shift leader in the dispatch booth shot her a nasty glare. She frowned.

As the train pulled in, Peter returned to the dock. The train parked and Peter crossed the train to replace Kristine who also crossed over to replace Brady. Brady, in turn, went on his break. After returning, Brady replaced Peter instead of Kristine. Peter went into the dispatch booth to replace the shift leader who went on his break. Everything was running routinely. The ride ran smoothly, the operators, despite Kristine’s fascination with Brady, were being efficient.

All the guests were being cooperative today, surprisingly. The ride had a strict no loose article policy that most guests found difficult to follow. Brady, on the load side, was good at scanning the guests

for loose articles. After all, he was trained to look for weapons, IEDs, and other harmful items while in the army.

By this time the day, the Demon had already taken 1500 people through the pits of hell and back. The line was still getting longer despite the increased effort of the operators to send the trains out as quickly as possible. The shift leader had returned to the ride and was now helping the rest of the crew on dock as a third person to check the train making life easier on Kristine’s side. Brady continued to perform his duties perfectly, scanning each guest.

All the guests were different, some shorter, some taller, some bigger, some smaller, and they all seemed to manage to blend into the crowd. They all were there with their families and friends so they were always talking amongst themselves as they waited to board the ride. As Brady looked into the bullpen, the area right before the loading safety gates that held the waiting guests back, he noticed something that was peculiar. He noticed a strange man who wasn’t like everyone else. This man wasn’t talking to the people around him not conversing at all. He even looked nervous, sweating a great deal. He just didn’t fit in. The man was still about 4 or 5 trains away from boarding the ride, so Brady waited until he got closer towards the safety gates.

After about 2 more dispatched trains, Brady glanced over again at the man. He could see that this man had both hands in his coat pockets. The man was wearing a brown leather jacket and black dark sunglasses. He also looked tense, as if something was about to happen and he knew exactly when and how it was going to happen. Brady crossed the train. He went directly over to the shift leader. “Brandon, see that man over there?” he asked Brandon, the shift leader.

The shift leader looked over, “What man?”“The man in the brown leather coat.”“Yeah,” he paused, “What about him?”“He has both hands in his pockets, its 90 degrees out here. Who wears a jacket in this heat?”“Your point?” the shift leader questioned Brady.“Brandon,” Brady paused while starting to show a bit of frustration. “The guy is up to something,

you should call security.”By this time, the guests were growing impatient. Some guests had already taken seats on the train

and pulled their harnesses down into the locked position. The guests in the line grew weary; one man even shouting over, “Come on!”

Brandon, after quite some time replied, “Okay call security.” Then he crossed the train towards the man. Brady entered the dispatch booth to pick up the phone. The dispatch booth had no door; instead, it had a large open space so that the operators could come in and out of the booth. It was pretty much a large box. One side had the opening passageway; the side to the immediate left upon entering had a large glass window so operators could see the dock. The side directly across the passage also had a large glass window; this window was so the operators could see the track ahead of the station. The last wall to the right of the opening held supplies, hooks, and keys for various devices and tools for the operation of the ride. On this wall was the phone that could be used to call other locations within the amusement park. Brady picked up the phone as he entered the dispatch booth.

Peter, out of confusion, questioned Brady, “What’s going on?”Brady looked up after dialing the number for security, “That guy over there… Just doesn’t feel

right.” As Peter looked over towards the man, the man in the brown leather jacket pulled one of his

hands out of his pocket discreetly revealing something in his hands resembling a remote. Brady saw this. Security on the other end of the line picked up, “Security, Marsha.” Brady did not respond to her.

“Peter he has a bomb!” Brady yelled holding the phone close enough to his mouth that the officer on the other end could hear.

Peter saw this and picked up the public address microphone out of panic, “Brandon...” he said into the microphone.

Before he could finish the dock exploded. All the glass in the dispatch booth shattered. Shrapnel flew into all the guests around the explosion, including everyone on the dock. The explosion was big

enough that shrapnel made its way into the dispatch booth hitting Peter who was between Brady and the blast. Everyone on the dock was thrown back and hit with shrapnel. The guests on the train who had locked themselves in were helpless. The force of the explosion threw Brady against the dispatch booth’s wall and then to the floor. He was spared being hit by any shards or any nails. He knew what it was, he had seen it before. Just not this close to home.

Marcus sipped his coffee. He had just made it to work in time for the coffee machine to brew its last cup. Traffic was bad today. Three accidents and a freeway closure set his commute time back a full hour. Thus, he was uncharacteristically late to work.

“Nice of you to show up,” stated Special Agent Blaine Snow, the team leader. Special Agents Marcus Tanner and Blaine Snow belonged to a 3 man team of investigators for the Federal Bureau of Investigation based out of San Francisco. Blaine was walking out field director’s office with a paper in his hand.

“Bad traffic.” Replied Marcus as he took a sip of his coffee, “Bad coffee, too.”“That’s what happens when you show up an hour late.” Said Special Agent Amy Walker, the

third team member, as she walked into the teams open office from the hallway. No doubt returning from the restroom. The team hardly left the floor unless it was for a potty break.

“Let’s go, we got a case.” Ordered Snow. “Fresh off the press and hot. Needed to be there 5 minutes ago.” He moved quickly as did his two team members. On cue, they both grab their bags, badges, and guns and the three of them made their way to the elevator that would take them to the lobby. Once inside the elevator Snow continued, “We got a bad one. Let’s just hope it isn’t what I think it is.”

“What is it this time?” asked Walker, “A radical picking his nose?”“Yeah, maybe we should, you know, slap him on the wrist. Awful manners in public.” Bickered

Tanner. Special Agent Tanner couldn’t stand Walker’s excessive attempts to be sarcastic. Despite the fact, that out of the three of them, he was the immature one. Good looking, but pure immature. Tanner was known for his outlandish pranks, crude sense of humor, and his ability to annoy just about everyone.

Special Agent Walker on the other hand was sarcastic, good looking, with stunning bodily features. A dream girl for many men, she had long dark black hair, hazel brown eyes. On top of that, she had a wonderful sense of humor, and could lighten any situation no matter how bad it was.

Tanner was well built, young, athletic and very smart. He was good looking as well, but a major turn off for most women due to his romantically inept attitude. Despite all this, he was smart, very good at deduction. He did his job very well. Det. Walker, the newest team member, wasn’t too bad either with her investigative skills, but she still had a lot to learn.

The team leader, Blaine Snow, was a 15 year veteran of the FBI. He had investigated numerous cases, including high profile cases involving politicians, actors, and major celebrities. After the terrorist attacks on 9/11, he had been transferred to the anti-terror division of the FBI where he started off as a low ranking agent. He worked his way up quickly, and within 3 years of the transfer, was leading his own teams. His team now, was the top team out of the office. However, you wouldn’t know it if you just met them, but once you saw them in the field, you were amazed.

“Bomb just went off, completely off radar, American soil.” Answered Special Agent Snow. The elevator was now 3 floors away from the bottom.

“Where at?” asked a dazed Special Agent Walker. Marcus, too, was shocked. A bomb going off on American soil. Somebody failed, messed up big time. How does a bomb go off without anybody knowing about it, especially on American soil.

“Santa Clara,” the elevator doors opened. “California’s Great America.”The three of them looked up and saw the breaking news flash on the television in the lobby. It

read across the screen, Bomb goes off in Santa Clara, California. Several dead, injured. Marcus took another sip of his coffee as they exited the lobby doors. It was going to be a long day.

Brady opened his eyes. Paramedics were everywhere. Dazed and confused, he tried to raise his head up. “Sir, lay down. Relax, everything is going to be okay.” Said one of the paramedics who were

treating him. He noticed that all the paramedics were wearing biohazard suits. No doubt a precaution because it was obvious what this was. A terrorist attack.

Brady looked over and saw Peter lying motionless on the floor next to him. There was a lot of blood between them. He couldn’t tell if it was his or Peter’s. Brady tried to lift himself up once more. “Sir, please stay calm!” the same paramedic exclaimed.

“I’m ok.” Replied Brady.Brady, knew he was okay. He knew the difference between this and what he felt like back in

Baghdad. At this moment, he was far more worried about Peter than he did himself. “I’m Brady Benson.” He paused to catch his breath, “That is Peter Anson. Is he okay?” He took note of Peter’s condition. It didn’t look good. There was blood all over his face and the front side of his body. There were clearly shrapnel wounds from his face all the way down to his stomach, the exposed regions of his body. Some of the glass had been blasted into him as well. Peter was unresponsive as the medics treated him.

“Can you walk?” one of the female medics asked Brady.“Yeah, I think so.”“Good, let’s get you out of here.”Brady protested, “Is he going to be okay?” The medic did not respond. She just grabbed him and lifted him up with the assistance of another

medic and they walked him out of what was left of the dispatch booth. Right outside of the opening, there was a triage already set up. They set Brady down on the triage where another medic was already waiting to check him for injuries and take his vitals. As they lay him down, Brady took note of his surroundings. The entire dock was unrecognizable. The train in the station looked like it had been hit by a freight train and was now laying on its side off the tracks on the unload side of the dock. Where there weren’t bodies which were already covered by tarps, there was smoldering debris. Dead bodies were everywhere. It looked like a warzone.

The medic outside pointed a flashlight into Brady’s eyes. Afterwards, he took Brady’s pulse, and looked over his body for any wounds that may have been inflicted during the blast. After a few minutes, Brady’s senses were snapping to. The medic said to him, “Okay, looks like your fine, just a little shook up.” After turning to put some of his utensils and tools away the medic continued, “Going to need you to wait here for a while. I need to tend to more injured and the police need to get a statement from you.”

Brady shook his head.It was absolute chaos. Firefighters, medics, and police officers running in every which direction

shouting orders. People were still crying and screaming in pain all over the place. It was loud. Overhead there were several helicopters. Mostly news choppers, but some were police choppers overhead for support. Shards, nails, and broken glass littered the floor and the walls. This was no doubt a suicide bomber with an IED. He knew it was. Twice in a lifetime, and one was back at home. How could this happen?... again. He thought to himself.

Several EMTs with a gurney showed up, and they wheeled it carefully into the dispatch booth. Within seconds, the gurney was being wheeled back out in a hurry. Peter was on the gurney. He was still unresponsive. As the gurney was being wheeled out, 3 people in black jumpsuits and black hats with the symbolic FBI on them stepped onto the dock. Each held a large bag and had a badge on their belts. A medic and an officer both greeted them and shook their hands.

“Have you sealed off the area?” asked Special Agent Snow.“Yes sir.” Replied the officer. “Good, any witnesses yet?”“One, he is a little shook up but you can talk to him now.” The officer paused, “He is right over

there.” The officer pointed towards Brady.“Alright, thank you, we will take it from here.” Snow turned to his team members. “Walker, grab

photographs and scan for evidence. Tanner, you scan for evidence as well.” Immediately, the team dispersed and Det. Snow made his way over towards Brady. “How you doing? I am Det. Snow.”

“Brady Benson.”“Brady, what happened?”

“I saw it. The whole thing.” Brady paused. “I am from the army, and I was able to pick up theguy before the whole thing.”

“What do you mean guy? The bomber?”“Yeah, he was wearing a brown leather jacket in this heat and looked uptight and nervous so I

told my shift leader. He had me call security. The bomb went off before I could call it in.”“So you’re saying the bomber was here when it went off.”“I think,” Brady hesitated, “I think he was the bomb.”Snow paused. A suicide bombing here? In California? In the United States? “Would you be able

to give me a description of the man? You know besides brown leather jacket.”“Yeah.”Snow pulled out a notebook from one of his many pockets. “Okay go ahead.”“He was wearing blue jeans with black shoes. Short black hair, almost buzz cut. He was wearing

dark sunglasses but he did have brown skin. Could be middle eastern.”“Are you sure.”Brady paused to think, “Yeah, I’m pretty sure.”“Brady, I am sure there is much more for us to talk about. You have been through hell in the last

hour and a half so I am going to let you go. I am going to have an officer get your information and your statement because we are going to need to talk to you soon.”

“I can stay and help.”“You have done more than enough. You have been a great help Brady, thank you.” Det. Snow

declined his assistance with a smile. However, Snow was appalled at the young man’s ability to deduce a suicide bombing before it happened. No doubt ex-military, but at his age, he couldn’t have been in the military for long. Snow was intrigued by Brady. Calm enough not to panic and to tell his immediate superior what he saw and then call security. He had remarkable memory as well. Very few people who go through such a trauma as a bombing are able to remember what happened in the few short moments leading up to the incident. It is uncommon for someone, even a witness who is unaffected by an incident, to be able to give a description at all.

But Snow couldn’t stop to be intrigued by Brady. He had to put Brady on the back burner for now. He needed a fourth team member badly; he might have the right person. Right now, however, he needed to do a job and answer some serious questions. How does a bomb go off in America and nobody know about it? How does a suicide bomber make a bomb and nobody know about it? How did this happen?

[End chapter 1]