Code Black

A drop of perspiration trickled down my forehead and into my left eye.  I blinked at the unexpected stinging it caused, but I had to stay focused on what I was doing.  My hands, usually steady, were trembling slightly as I gripped the wire cutters, massaging the rubber-coated handles as I stared at the tangle of cords inside the briefcase.

A briefcase.  I wanted to laugh inwardly.  That seemed so cliche.

Around me, there was no movement save for the leaves blowing across the empty street, and no sound other than a dog barking somewhere.  The area had been cleared for several blocks in all directions, and the deathly quiet was unnerving.  I've never seen this intersection in town look so dead.

"Take it easy, Jeb," said a voice in my earpiece.  It was the police chief, and I glanced ahead of me where he and some of the other officers were poised, standing guard from a distance behind the protection of shields.

No shit, I thought.

I looked at the red L.E.D. counter ticking down the seconds.  There wasn't much time left, and I needed to decide which of these wires I needed to cut before me and my internal organs became a smattering of flesh at the corner of 64th and Adams Ave.  Studying the mass of hardware that comprised this amateur-looking bomb, I'd narrowed it down to one of three wires:  red, black, and white.

I moved the wire cutters to the black wire.  Years of experience told me this is the one that would shut the bomb down, but there's always a flicker of doubt in case--for once--I'm wrong.  There's always a first.  In this case, it would also be my last.  I steeled myself and went for it.  The cutters snapped through the wire, and...

...nothing happened.  The timer was still counting down.  "...13...12...11..."

My heart was racing now, but my training kicked in and I maintained my focus.  We have two choices now and only seconds to decide.  I positioned the cutters around the red wire.

Snip.

There was a spark, and for a split second, I thought I'd detonated the bomb.  Either I was incredibly lucky, or the maker of this device didn't quite know what they were doing.  The countdown continued, "...7...6...5..."

"God dammit," I muttered, and went for the third wire.  I felt a sickening rush as I made the third cut, fingers almost numb.  The wire snapped between the metal blades, and I froze.

I saw the counter stop at 2 and I wasn't in pieces.  Only then did I exhale, not realizing I'd been holding my breath.  And then there was a wave of relief that came over me, like it does each time things get a little too close like that.  I gave the police chief a shaky thumbs up, and loud cheers erupted from the surrounding officers.

All in a day's work, I thought to myself, and smiled.