I sit in the black duffel bag, dying for a breath of fresh air. The darkness is suffocating, and I’ve been in here for what feels like forever. When he pieced me together from junkyard scraps and wiring, he didn’t care that I was claustrophobic. Last time he tried to use me, I refused to detonate. This time I wouldn’t have a choice. The new system uses a timer.
I try to fall asleep. It won’t stop me from going off, but at least I won’t be suffering until my demise.
Suddenly, someone opens my bag, and light streams in. My rescuer is holding a pair of pliers, but isn’t in any protective gear, and I can see his hand shaking. He looks at me, and says “I really don’t know what I’m doing.”
“Just cut the orange wire.”
“Orange? Are you sure? Usually it’s the blue or red wire.”
“Trust me. It’s the orange.”