Responsibility, by Giovanni Alfonso Valentin

The radio buzzed in my ear.

“Cut the red wire.”

The countdown on the timer was soft but sounded like a bell in a clock-tower. My visor foggy, my hands trembling, I fought through the dripping sweat to see clearly. One attempt. That’s all I have. Franco shot me a look. Grimace scoured her features into facial mush. She snapped her rifle at the curious, approaching locals. Maybe the heat was getting to me. All the wires were red. If I fucked up, all of those people would die. I held my breath, closed my eyes and snipped a wire.

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