“C’mon, kid,” the cop yelled to Todd. He lifted the bomber up and shoved him against the railing. He stood tight against the man’s right side and pulled Todd up against his left. “Hold tight and don’t move!” It was a command Todd couldn’t help but obey as the crowd slammed itself against him, driving the air out of his lungs.

Lord, Todd prayed, help me breathe. Please, just help me breathe!

The third man waited for the second explosion, but it never came.

He fought against panic. He had been trained for this very eventuality. He knew that the second explosion was to be fifteen seconds after the first, and the third-his-was to be thirty seconds after that.

He had been sitting in section 107 and was now caught up in the flow of people who were trying to escape to the concourse. His count had only reached thirty-seven, but he was in danger of being sucked into the tunnel. That wouldn’t do, because this explosion was designed to be seen by all. He raised his football up in one hand and the detonator in the other.

“Allahu Akbar!” he yelled and in a split second wiped out 122 lives, including his own.

After Riley got control of his growing rage, he began moving through the two teams, yelling, “Out the side tunnel! Get into the locker room!”

Most followed his instructions until the second explosion, after which everything became complete bedlam. Fans began pouring over the railings, not realizing how far the drop onto the field was. Some got back up and limped off. Others appeared to break bones in the fall and, after a few dozen more dropped on top of them, never got up again.

Riley ran toward the Mustangs’ sideline. He had no clue what he was doing; he just let his instinct guide him. Most of the players had already fled, but a few sat frozen on the benches.

Riley dropped in front of one player, who had put his helmet back on for protection. “Chris! Chris!”

“What? Oh, hey, Riley,” Chris Gorkowski answered. He had obviously drifted off to some happier place far from the devastation in the stadium.

“Chris, you gotta get up and get out of here!”

“Nah, Riley. I was thinking that I’m probably fine right here.”

Riley slapped the side of Gorkowski’s helmet-probably harder than he needed to-then grabbed the offensive lineman’s face mask. “Listen to me, you big idiot! You have to get to the locker room! Now! See Skid and Bama over there?” Riley twisted the big center’s helmet toward the two other players who were sitting on the bench, then twisted it back to face himself. “You’re going to get those two out of here! Got it? Anything happens to them, I’m taking it out on you!” Riley gave Gorkowski’s helmet one final neck-jarring slap and ran off.

When he looked back, he saw Gorkowski with a handful of both players’ jerseys, yanking them off the bench and dragging them toward the locker room. Riley began working his way back to the center of the field, but it was getting harder to move as more and more terrified people flocked to the grass.

As he looked around, he saw people stacked up at each exit from the field-players and fans alike. He felt the rage building up again. Get ahold of yourself! You’re no good to anyone if you lose control! Riley put his shoulder down and drove himself through the crowd.

Carol Marks couldn’t believe what she was seeing. After the first blast across the field, the eight Buckaroos had remained frozen in their seats like everyone else. Then, as if on some inaudible cue, the whole crowd of people moved at once toward the small tunnels that would take them to the concourse and out of harm’s way. The four couples were nine rows down from the exit and were quickly swept into the wave of humanity.

What little control and order had existed were destroyed with the second blast. The crowd took on a life of its own. Paul and Carol had been seated in the center of the row and held tight to each other’s hand, determined not to get separated. The other three couples were swallowed by the crowd as soon as they hit the steps.

Doug Rawlins turned around as he was being pushed toward the tunnel and mouthed the words Meet at the cars! Meet at the cars!

Paul gave a thumbs-up in response.

At last, Paul and Carol made it to the aisle. But as soon as they hit it, Paul was wrenched away. Carol screamed and stretched for his hand, but he was already out of reach. Paul was yelling back to her, “Just go with the flow, babe! Meet me at the car!”

Carol felt a hit from behind that nearly took her breath away as she was forced into the flow. Her sixty-year-old legs were having a hard time keeping up the pace. A couple of times she stumbled on the steps, but the mass of people was so tight that she had nowhere to fall. Finally she reached the top of the stairs and was funneled into the narrow tunnel.

As Carol entered, her foot hit something soft yet solid. This time when she stumbled, there was more space in front of her, and she went down. While she was falling, she realized what she had tripped on. And as she landed, she realized that she was about to find herself in the same situation as the person whose body had sent her tumbling. Immediately she tried to lift herself up, but a foot in the center of her back pushed her down again, forcing the air out of her lungs.

That first foot was followed by another and another. She struggled to get air, but the continuous flow of feet on her back and her head made it impossible. She tried to scream, but there was nothing there. Her arms were pinned underneath her as she squirmed her body back and forth.

A Sorel Caribou boot landing on her temple put an end to her movement. Darkness began in her peripheral vision and quickly moved toward the center. Her last thought as she faded away was So this is what it feels like to die.

As soon as people started moving, Michael Goff scooped Kevin into his arms and looked for a chance to enter the human river.

Kevin was crying. “What’s happening, Daddy?” He always slipped back to Daddy when he was scared.

“I don’t know, sport. Just hold tight. Got it? Lock those arms around me, and give my neck the strongest Hulk hug you’ve ever given.”

The resulting squeeze almost threw Michael’s neck out of alignment, but he didn’t care. As long as he was in pain, he knew that Kevin was safe.

Michael forced his way into the aisle and down the steps. People were screaming all around him. Then he heard the second blast. Gotta keep a cool head. Down the steps, out to the concourse. Skip the escalator-that’ll be a death trap with this crowd. Ride the wave down the ramps. “I’m gonna get us out of here, sweetheart. Daddy’s got you.”

The force of the crowd was overwhelming. Michael had little control over where he was going. But since everyone was heading the direction he wanted to go, he stopped trying to fight the flow and went with it instead.

The crowd pressed through the entrance to the tunnel. Michael could see people ahead stepping over some obstacles. He thought they must be backpacks that people had accidentally dropped until he stepped on one. The “Ohhh” from below him as his foot fell told him exactly what he was stepping on. He desperately wanted to reach down and help the person he had just walked over, but before he could, he was out the tunnel and into the mass of people in the concourse.

The fourth man was exhausted after being pushed, jostled, and cursed at for the past three minutes. He had been sitting in section 120 and had allowed himself to get caught up with the wave of people. While going through the narrow tunnel to the concourse, he was gratified to feel the give of several bodies beneath his feet.

When he heard the first explosion, he had started the timer on his digital watch. A moment of fear had gripped him when the second man hadn’t completed his mission as planned. But when he heard a second blast from the lower deck, he knew that Allah’s plan would continue in spite of the one man’s failure.