Apaches - Lorenzo Carcaterra [133]
“I’m gonna give the blue wires a snap,” Geronimo said.
“What’s that gonna do?” Pins asked.
“If we’re lucky, not a thing,” Geronimo said. “And it’ll leave us one less device to worry about.”
“What if we ain’t so lucky?” Pins said.
“We won’t know it,” Geronimo told him.
Geronimo took a deep breath, squeezed the tip of his hand pliers over the blue wire, and snapped it apart. Beads of sweat mixed with blood flowed down Pins’s face as he gave Geronimo a knowing nod. “I woulda guessed red myself,” he said.
“It’s a good thing you’re the one that’s wired and not me.” Geronimo wiped at his eyes with the sleeve of his blue Bomb Squad T-shirt.
“How much time left?” Pins asked.
“Why? Gotta be somewhere special?”
“They designed this bomb just for you,” Pins told him. “They said you were the best, but not even you could crack what they laid in here.”
“You were always the quiet one,” Geronimo said. “Wrap a little dyno around you and suddenly I can’t shut you up.”
“I don’t need you to die with me,” Pins said. “I can do this alone. I’ve done everything else that way, don’t see why dying should be any different.”
“They shoulda taped your mouth shut too.” Geronimo was on his back, next to Pins, ready to snap down on a green wire. “Would’ve made my job easier.”
“Boomer, Dead-Eye, the others, they need your help, Geronimo,” Pins said. “A lot more than I do.”
Geronimo snapped off the green wire, shoved the clipper in his waistband, crawled back several inches farther, and started to remove the wire from Pins’s feet. He tossed the wire behind him and inched his way back to the front of the cage.
“Just so you know and it registers,” Geronimo said, wiping the sweat from Pins’s forehead with the front of his shirt. “There are two things in this life I’ve never walked away from. A device and a friend.”
“Then you’re gonna die in here,” Pins said. “With this friend and with this device.”
“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” Geronimo said. “Now, that timer is telling me we got ourselves a little less than three minutes. I could snap off a few more wires and hope we stay lucky, or, if you want, I can just kick back and we shoot the shit. Your call, Pins.”
“We never did get a chance to talk all that much,” Pins said.
“White or red,” Geronimo said. “Pick one.”
“I still like red,” Pins breathed.
“Devices love creatures of habit,” Geronimo said with a smile. Then he pulled the clipper and snapped off the white wires. “File that for the next time.”
“How many of those wires we got left?” Pins asked.
“Hard to figure. They laid on a lot of ’em. Crisscrossed ’em all on top of it. Most are dummies, only one is lit. So we got that, plus the dyno hooked to the rope around your neck, which can go off of any wire. Best I can do is try to get to the central coil and snap it down, but it would be more a guess than anything else.”
“Bottom-line it for me, Geronimo,” Pins said. “Where we goin’ with this?”
Geronimo laid the clipper down on the shiny floor of the bowling lane. He took off his shirt, wiped the sweat off his body, and sat down. He folded his legs and rested his arms on top of them. He turned and looked over at Pins, drenched in blood and sweat, his legs lifeless from having held one position for such a long time. He took several long, slow, deep breaths.
“The device wins, Pins,” Geronimo finally said. “We can’t beat it.”
“Yeah, we can,” Pins said.
“I’m listening,” Geronimo told him.
“Don’t wait for it,” Pins said. “Let it blow on your terms. You’re the best at this. So let the best decide when the fucker goes up.”
Geronimo smiled at Pins as his right hand reached for the clippers. “Pick your color,” Geronimo said.
“I’m a stubborn little bastard. I’m gonna stick with the red.”
“Red it is,” Geronimo said.
He stood on his knees, one hand grasping Pins’s shoulder and the other holding the pliers wrapped around a thin red wire.
“I hope you’re not wrong,” Geronimo said. The smile on his face faded. Then it came back. Pins met it with a smile