#ThursThreads, week 547


I wiped sweat from my forehead with the back of my hand. Benny was hanging over my shoulder, his heart pounding loud enough that I could almost see the vibrations.

The clock attached to the dynamite continued its inexorable countdown to our obliteration and I didn’t have any better idea how to disarm it now than I had when we’d first discovered the bomb.

Benny’s anxiety wasn’t helping, but I suppose it was understandable. I hadn’t known that he was in the back of the van when I’d stolen it, and he’d been too stoned to wake up even as we bounced through the desert. 

By the time we were aware of each other, we were running from what seemed like a fleet of black SUVs and the temperature gauge on the van was buried in the red. He was screaming at me to find out where we were, I was screaming at him to be quiet, and I didn’t even stop to think that the conveniently van-sized cave was a trap. A rockslide later, I knew I’d screwed up, and it wasn’t long before our entire world was consumed by the red LEDs that counted down the last minutes of our lives.

“Ummm, Miranda?”

“What, Benny? I’m a little busy.”

“What are we going to do about that?”

“I’m trying to disarm it. Please be quiet.”

“No, not that.” Benny pointed off to his left, but he didn’t really need to. 

I could hear the rattling just fine.

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