Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 75478 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 377(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75478 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 377(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
“No.”
“Go,” I demanded again. “And take the prez with you,” I added, taking a deep breath as the timer ticked down to a minute and a half. “Now,” I hissed.
He wanted to argue.
No man left behind and all that brotherhood shit we lived and breathed in the service.
But he and Fallon, they had women, kids, people they needed to worry about.
If I went up in flames, it was just me.
Not that I was planning on that happening.
As soon as Callow and Fallon were gone, it seemed like my mind cleared, like my vision got sharper.
There were so many fucking wires.
Too many.
Like the maker had attempted to make it seem more sophisticated than it was.
At its root, any bomb was a pretty simple set up: battery, timer, wires, blasting caps. And the explosives themselves, usually filled with all sorts of gnarly shit—nails, ball bearings, broken glass, pieces of metal. And, of course, some sort of chemical to make them go boom.
But bomb makers would know that any fool would know those basics, would be able to cut the wire from the battery, and therefore the power, so they did shit like adding a capacitor and a few transistors.
This bomb was full of shit that made it look complicated as hell, that made you want to second-guess yourself, thinking that if you cut the battery wire, you might trigger the bomb.
The closer I looked, though, the more it all seemed for show: wires that went nowhere, boxes that weren’t live.
It was a really fucking simple device, despite appearances. Like some novice found plans online and put the most basic effort into it.
“Alright, Bonnie, honey, take a deep breath with me,” I said as I slipped the wire cutter under the wires leading from the battery compartment.
If I was wrong, it was over for the two of us.
And the clubhouse.
But the timer was ticking down.
Twenty, nineteen, eighteen…
Inaction would have us just as dead.
“Here we go,” I said, squeezing my hand together on the cutters.
There was a second of absolute fucking terror.
But the timer stopped.
“Okay. Alright. That’s it,” I said, dropping the wire cutters to the floor, then reaching for the bottom of the vest. “Arms up, baby. Let me get this off.”
And outside.
Just in case.
Her whole body was racked with shivers, but her shirt under the vest was wet with nervous sweat.
I wanted to tell her to be still, just in case. I was sure the timer had stopped. But what if there was some secondary trigger? I wanted to be as careful as possible until the vest was out and away from anyone it could hurt if it did go off.
But she was losing her shit. Even if I asked, there was no way she could stop the shaking.
So as carefully as I could manage, I lifted the vest up and off of her.
“Sull, how’s it going?” Callow asked, pulling open the door slowly.
“I cut this,” I told him, holding up the vest. “But do you mind carrying it out to the backyard, away from everyone? Just in case.”
Callow nodded.
“Carefully,” I said. “Really fucking carefully,” I told him, getting a nod from him.
Then I turned back to the girl, still standing stiff, her hands curled into fists at her sides, her body shaking, tears flooding down her cheeks.
“It’s over, Bonnie,” I told her, reaching out to press a hand to her shoulder.
And she just… crumpled.
“Okay. Alright,” I said, my voice soft as I dropped down in front of her, reaching out and pulling her against me. “You’re okay now,” I assured her, wrapping her up tighter and tighter as her body seemed determined to shake apart.
I murmured to her, running my hand down her back or over her hair, trying to ground her.
I was aware of Fallon, Brooks, and some of the others filing back inside, moving nearly silently around, giving the poor girl a chance to try to work through her panic.
The problem was, it didn’t seem to be getting better. If anything, her breathing was getting faster and faster, like she was gasping for breath, like she felt she couldn’t catch it.
She was going to pass out at this rate.
Glancing to the side, I spotted Nave.
Ice packs, I mouthed to him.
He came back a moment later, and I took one of the ice packs, slipped it under her shirt, and pressed it against her bare back.
The response was immediate. She stiffened and hissed, but her breathing immediately evened out.
“Little better, right?” I asked, reaching for the next one and pressing it to the back of her neck. “How about we breathe together for a bit?” I suggested. Her gaze was down, but she nodded. “In for four,” I instructed, breathing with her. “Hold for seven. Good. Exhale for eight. In for four more...”
Little by little, the shaking slowed, and the tears with it.