“A fucking bomb? What are they gonna do? Kill us?”
“That would be the idea behind a bomb….”
“Are you fucking kidding me? What the fuck did I do?” Jack tilts his head, considering my question like he could name a few things.
“Don’t answer that.” I lower my brows, and he nods vigorously.
“I’ll get back to work.” He stands up and heads over to the bomb, crouching down to it and doing something I can’t see. At least he’s good for something. I was beginning to wonder what the hell he brings to the table with his job. But bomb diffuser? Now that’s a valuable asset.
I wait with anticipation as the numbers tick down quicker than I want them to, and Jack works slower than both of us need him to.
Fuck. We only have five minutes left, and then we’re done for. I have done nothing with my life. Nothing worth noting anyway. And most of the regrets I have are tied to Stella. I wish I had told her the second we had sex for the first time that I liked it more than I should have. More than I’ve liked having sex with anyone, and that maybe that meant something.
I regret leaving all the times I did, regret leaving last night and not saying goodbye. Not telling her that I meant it. I meant what I said. I want her. It’s not clear when I really wanted her, but in my moments before dying, I have to say, clarity is a side effect of death.
Ironically, the final moment of existence would be to point out your flaws and shortcomings. Possibly, this only happens to people going to hell because I definitely am going to hell. Nothing about my life has been useful.
Wasteful parties, sex with random women I wouldn’t remember if you put them in a lineup, broken promises to my family who only ever wanted the best for me. Then there’s hurting Stella— who I’m sure deserves the best the world has to offer and then some.
And in my many mistakes, that’s the one that stings the worst, the twist of the knife and the blade itself.
Hurting Stella, running from her, then losing her before realizing why I was pushing her away.
That’s the kicker, isn’t it? That I’m so fucking selfish that I wanted things my way without realizing that I could have had her, probably had her, if I just fucking owned up to my feelings instead of running from them all my life.
We’re facing a minute now. There are measly sixty seconds left of living, and I’m still stuck thinking about Stella Lombardi. I can’t bring myself to call it what it is causing me to feel like this because it’s too tragic. And I’m beginning to lose every last inkling of hope that Jack can pull this off.
“Jack.”
“I’m focusing.” He waves a hand, and I stand to my feet to lean against the wall that feels as though it’s closing in on us. I close my eyes and rest my throbbing head against the cool stone.
“Why am I not bleeding?” My eyes fly open when I realize that my head has a strange feeling underneath the hair and that it isn’t the stone.
“I stitched you up. It’s lucky for you that I had my emergency kit inside this jacket pocket when they took me. Now, will you be quiet?”
“Sorry,” I mumble, slightly impressed. Okay, maybe we do have a chance at living if he can so easily address my wounds. I still wonder why he’s here, though. How the Russians got to him. I won’t ask now, though. My life might depend on it, and I’d rather him fully focus than learn some trivial fact about our current dilemma that we’re stuck in regardless of how it happened.
We’re down to thirty seconds, and I’m beginning to freak out. My heart is racing in my chest, causing my head to pound even more, and my body is buzzing with adrenaline.
“Jack!” I raise my voice, taking a step closer to him.
“I’m trying!” He’s pulling wires and unscrewing things with his hands.
“What the fuck is this?”
“I’m diffusing!”
“That’s not doing anything! Are you fucking stupid?!”
“Hasn’t anyone ever told you not to yell at a man while he’s defusing a bomb?”
“No, Jack. They haven’t because I’ve never been in this situation! I don’t think I know of anyone who has, either! Wanna know why? Because they’re probably all dead!”
“Shut up, Antonio! This is my first time doing this! I need to concentrate!”
“You— THIS IS YOUR FIRST TIME?” I'm screaming at him regardless of the pain it puts me in because nothing will be more painful than death.
“I KNOW HOW TO DO IT IN THEORY!”