The elation on our faces evaporates like the virtual horizon.
Fifteen
“We’ve got three minutes before this thing blows sky high!”
Cypress’s warning ricochets through the circle of fifty-gallon steel drums marked Toxic Waste, which surround us on all sides.
“I know how to tell time,” Gideon hisses at her.
Cypress scowls. “Based on your performance the last few weeks, I’ve learned not to assume anything where you’re concerned.”
I shove past Ophelia to get between them. “C’mon, knock it off, people.”
Gideon reaches an arm across the nearest cylinder, his glasses reflecting the blinking red light of the timer that’s keeping pace with the rhythm of my heart. “I think I got it.”
“Careful,” Ophelia whispers. She hands him a pair of wire cutters as if they were a delicate piece of glass.
“No sudden movements,” Digory says, right behind me.
The sound of his voice ignites something inside me. He’s barely spoken to me these past two weeks-ever since I revived him during that Sim.
I turn to him. Flashes of crimson dance in his eyes, thawing the ice into fluid blue. As our eyes meet we spark for a second, but then he looks away and the moment dies like a fading ember.
As Gideon struggles to access the control panel, no one makes a sound.
Finally, he turns and shakes his head, not looking any of us in the eye. “No use. I can’t reach it.”
A sigh escapes Cypress’s lips. “Surprise.”
Gideon thrusts the wire cutters at her. “I’m sure these’ll work on vocal chords.”
She smirks. “It’d be fun to see you try, anyway.”
I grip the drum myself. “There’s a lot riding on this. This bomb’s not going to diffuse itself.” I try to twist it around as carefully as I can, but it must weigh a ton.
Without saying a word, Digory pulls me aside and grips the metal cylinder himself, lifting it a couple of inches off the ground. Thick cords bulge from the sides of his neck. His biceps threaten to burst through the sleeves of his damp T-shirt, which clings to his body like a second skin.
“You’re going to set it off, Tycho,” Cypress growls through clenched teeth.
Ignoring her, he pulls the drum out and away from the other ones, turning it enough to expose a silver box attached to its side.
He’s been exerting himself way too much since we started Phase Two, especially given what almost happened to him on that raft, but I’ve learned it’s pointless to try and talk him out of anything.
“Easy … ” Gideon mutters under his breath.
Digory sets the drum back down with a low thump, which still manages to stir up a gritty shroud of dust that prickles my skin.
“Two minutes … ” Ophelia’s hands are clasped in front of her mouth and she’s bouncing on her boot heels.
“I know. I know.” Gideon’s already on his knees with the screwdriver, fiddling with the control panel. In seconds, he’s unscrewed it from its moorings and detached it from the drum. He stands, cradling the bomb’s canister like a baby.
We all back away, giving him plenty of room to maneuver.
One of his feet tangles in some cables and he lurches-
Our collective gasp drowns out the steady bleeping of the countdown clock as Gideon teeters for a few agonizing seconds-
Before Cypress reaches out to steady him.
“Don’t drop it,” she whispers.
His only response is the wisp of his breath, which fogs up the clear display of the bomb’s throbbing innards as he pries the panel open with the screwdriver, exposing several black cubes connected by red, blue, and yellow wires.
“That’s it, Warrick. You got this.” I’m already warming to the idea that we may just make it through this latest ordeal of Slade’s.
Digory and I crowd together, avoiding each other’s faces. The frigid air pumping through the overhead vents pecks at my flesh and gives me the shakes. There’s an awkward second when our shoulders graze. I steal a quick, shallow breath. Part of me wants to stare him down, ask him how he’s feeling, both physically and otherwise. But I trash the impulse and bury it deep. I can’t let him know how I really feel.
Especially since I don’t know myself.
Gideon’s eyes are bouncing from one wire to another, the wire cutters trembling in his hand.
“You’re wasting too much time. Let me do it.” Cypress reaches out for the explosive canister.
“Let him alone, Goslin.” Digory blocks her. “He knows what he’s doing.”
Ophelia tugs my arm. “Only thirty seconds to go!”
Cypress looks like she wants to strangle her. “Thanks for the update.”
My heart’s a drum roll. “Gently … Warrick … yeah … nice and slow … ”
Gideon hesitates, closes his eyes for a moment, then snips the blue wire.
Nothing happens.
Peals of nervous laughter fill the air. We’re still in this.
“Ten seconds!” Ophelia squeals.
With only two options remaining, Gideon grins and shifts the wire cutter over to the red wire-
That can’t be right. He’s supposed to cut the reactor wire before he cuts the ignition feed. I spring forward and wrench the tool from his hand.
“Spark!” he yells. “What the hell are you-?”
Snip!
I cut through the yellow wire instead-
An alarm blares through the room, cleaving my eardrums. The overhead florescent lights blink out, replaced by the swirling reds and yellows of twirling emergency beacons engulfing the chamber like wildfire.
The intercom crackles to life with a burst of static: “Detonation Activated. Mission Failure. Repeat.Mission Failure.”
But I don’t need any warning announcement to tell me how badly I screwed up. The glares in everyone’s eyes are much more potent. The wire cutters slip from my fingers and clatter to the floor, disappearing along with the steel drums when the ground beneath opens up and swallows them whole before resealing.
Wish that were me.
Gideon shakes his head at me.“What’s wrong with you? I had everything under control. All I had to do was clip that red wire … ”
A wide grin stretches across the canvas of Ophelia’s face. “So what if Spark messed up. We all know you knew what you were doing.” She moves toward Gideon with open arms, but he backs away.
“I’m real sorry.” I grab his shoulder from behind.
He whirls on me, fist raised.
Digory squeezes between us, palms thrust outward. “Whoa! Easy, Warrick.”
Gideon’s eyes are feral, the look of a cornered animal ready to fight to the death.
No one says a word, not even Cypress. We just stare, listening to this stranger’s panting breaths, wondering if he’ll strike.
He finally blinks. In that instant, he’s Gideon again. He lowers his fist, looking confused as to why it was in the air to begin with. His index finger nudges his glasses back up his nose.
“Forgive me.” His face is redder than the light’s glare. “I guess you just spooked me.”
Cypress snorts. “We spooked you?”
Digory lowers his own hands. “It’s all right. We’ve all been on edge. And with good reason.”
I step from behind him. “Digory’s right. You did a great job, Warrick. Sorry I screwed things up.”
He stuffs his hands into his pockets. His eyes drop to his fidgeting feet. “Thanks. Any of you could have done it.”
“Agreed.” Cypress sighs.
Ophelia glares at her. “But none of us did.” Her face softens and she takes a tentative step closer to Gideon. “I think you’re the best!” She lifts her hands so he can see them, and slowly wraps them around him.
Gideon awkwardly pats her back. He doesn’t seem to know where to look and chooses the exact moment to look down at her that she looks up at him.