The Ten Seconds Before the Fireworks Went Dark

Elias Mercer saw the lights go out before he saw the fire. One second, the Independence Day fireworks were lifting off from Boston Harbor in red, white, and blue arcs, clean as ribbon cut from a flag. The next, every dock light, temporary speaker tower, vendor sign, and parking lot floodlamp died at once. The smell of barbecue sauce, hot oil, salt water, and gasoline hung in the air over a crowd of thousands. Then it all broke apart into confusion. The first blast came from the south pier. Not a firework. Not even close. Low. Heavy. The kind of sound that hit your ribs before your ears caught up. Then a second blast. Then a third. “Back up!” somebody yelled in the dark. “Get down!”