Page 134 of Can You Take It?

“I need you, Richard. Please, don’t do this.”

I press my forehead to hers. “I need you to live. That’s the only way I can do this.”

Colton, looking torn, steps forward. “We have to go, Rick.”

I nod, barely able to pull myself away from her. “Take her, Colton. Keep her safe.”

Colton gently takes her arm, and she fights against him, screaming my name. “Richard! Please, don’t leave me!”

As Colton drags her away, her desperate struggle echoes in my ears, tearing me apart inside. I turn back to the bomb, and the timer is ticking down mercilessly.

“I love you, Izel,” I whisper to myself, hoping she can somehow hear me. “And I’m going to make sure you have a future, even if it means I won’t be in it.”

Three minutes and twenty seconds. My hands shake as I work on the wires, recalling every lesson I’ve ever learned about bomb defusal.

I pull out a wire, holding my breath. The timer stops. For a moment, I think I’ve done it. But then the timer starts ticking again, faster this time.

“Fuck it,” I mutter. There’s no way I can defuse this bomb.

I make a quick decision. I run to my car, throw the bomb into the passenger seat, and start the engine. Luna is screaming my name, but I block it out.

I slam on the gas and peel out of the parking lot. The timer is ticking down, each second feeling like a hammer to my skull. I weave through traffic, narrowly avoiding collisions. Horns blare, but I don’t care. I have to get this bomb away from everyone.

Two minutes.

I think about the lake nearby. I know it’s my best shot. I push the car harder, the engine roaring as I tear through the streets.

The woods come into view. I swerve onto the dirt road, trees whipping past. The car bounces and jolts, but I keep my foot on the pedal. I glance at the timer.

One minute.

I break through the treeline, the lake sparkling in the distance. I can see the end of the road where it drops off into the water. I push the car faster, ignoring the branches scraping against the sides.

Forty-five seconds.

I slam the brakes, spinning the car around so the passenger side is facing the water. I take a steadying breath before I throw the car into gear and let it roll forward.

Thirty seconds.

The cold water rushes up, slamming against the windows. I unbuckle and scramble over the center console, throwing open the passenger door just before it gets swallowed by the lake. Water pours in numbing my skin as I shove the door fully open, feeling the car start to sink.

Twenty seconds.

I take a deep breath and pull myself through the doorway, the current dragging at my legs. My lungs burn as I kick away, forcing myself through the dark water.

Fifteen seconds.

My chest tightens. I can’t see anything. My fingers slip on the smooth metal as I try to push away from the car, the bomb still ticking somewhere inside.

Ten seconds.

I finally break free, the surface above a shimmering blur. I push harder, my muscles are screaming, but I don’t stop.

Five.

The pressure in my head builds.

Four.

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