Nikolett flipped the switch.
Eric’s heart started beating again. He leapt to his feet. “What the fuck was that?”
“I don’t make the bombs,” Gus said. “I assemble them. I have a guy who actually makes the components and gives me the diagram. The last one I had before this I had a reset kill switch.”
“What’s a reset kill?”
Gus grimaced. “It isn’t really a kill switch. More like a snooze button.”
“You put a snooze timer on a fucking bomb?” Nikolett’s voice was high and thin. “Why?”
“Do you really want to know the answer to that?” Gus demanded even as he started unscrewing a pipe near the top.
“No,” Eric declared. “We’re leaving before it resets again. Stop fucking with it.”
The bomb beeped.
3:00
2:59
Every time they reset it, the time got shorter.
They only had three minutes before the bomb went off.
Not enough time to leave. Not even close.
Nikolett looked at Eric, then pushed up on her toes to kiss him hard and fast. “I’ll hold it,” she said as she stepped away. “You two get out.”
“I’m not going to leave you here holding a switch on a bomb!”
“Only until you get a bomb expert here. We have one?—”
“He’s in America.” Eric yanked Nikolett back as she tried to slide into her previous position.
“Go,” Gus said, and his voice was utterly, perfectly calm. “Let me hold it. It will be the one truly good thing I can do.”
Eric started to protest that he couldn’t—literally couldn’t since his arm didn’t fit—but whatever Gus unscrewed had allowed his arm to fix. He reached down into the bomb. The timer clicked off.
“There, it’s off,” Eric said. “When you let go, we’ll have two minutes. If we run really, really fast?—”
“No,” Gus said again with that strange calm. “We won’t have two minutes. I had to unscrew the cap pipe. This isn’t a reset kill switch anymore.”
Gus looked at Eric, and Eric understood.
“It’s a dead man’s switch,” Eric murmured. “You let go and the bomb goes off.”
“Yes,” Gus said simply.
“No,” Nikolett whispered, voice watery. “No.” She shook her head. “How long can you hold it? Can we get a piece of wood or?—”
“I don’t know how long I can hold this, or even how long it will work as a dead man’s switch. This bomb was built to create and destroy hope.”
Eric hated what it said about his brother’s life, and soul, that he would commission bombs that gave people false hope for survival.
“I need you two to go,” Gus said, his Spanish accent thick. “I need you to find peace and be happy. Put a flower on my mother’s grave.”
“Gus, no, please.” Nikolett was fighting tears. “It can’t end like this.”
