Fifteen Minutes

Hi everyone!

I'm blogging on my lunch break.

I wrote this last semester when I was still tutoring. The goal was to write an action-packed narrative.

I polished it up just recently, so here it is.

♥Nancy♬

Fifteen Minutes

15:00.

*click*

            I drew a sharp breath in as I heard the sound.

            *beep beep beep*

            The timer began to count down, one beep per second.

14:59.

14:58.

14:57.

Fifteen minutes. I opened my bag and shoved the diamond in, nestling it safely between the layers of fabric that I’d stuffed in there as preparation. I’d been prepared to steal the diamond. Jack had been prepared for me to steal it too.

            “Dammit, Jack,” I cursed.

            Because what a choice I was now facing. There was a time bomb counting down before my eyes. I could leave now, that was the easy option. I could take the diamond and high tail it out of the museum and be on a train heading away before the bomb even blew.

14:26.

            But the museum would be destroyed. The museum was full of priceless artefacts. And sure, I was in here to steal a diamond, but that didn’t mean that I wanted to see the place blown to rubble. There was jewellery here that was centuries old. Art from all over the world. Statues made of delicate marble that would not survive a huge blast. So, how would I save it? I could disarm the bomb.

13:56.

            I knew Jack’s style, his mark, his handiwork. I knew I could do it. But one wrong move and both the museum and I would be toast. The other option was to take more artefacts. I had time to gather more things. I could shove them in my bag with the diamond and still make it to safety. I took a second to imagine how good life could be if I stole more of the jewellery out of this room, if I stole a painting off the wall. I could be rich! But the diamond cabinet had been enough of a challenge, and my research told me that the security on every case was different. And Jack could have planted more bombs than just this one.

13:41.

            “Dammit, Jack,” I cursed, again.

            *beep beep beep*

            The timer on the bomb seemed to be mocking me. Three choices. None were good. But one was better.

12:52.

            I dropped to my knees in front of the plinth that had held the diamond. The red numbers kept counting down as I took my bag off my shoulder and pulled out my tool kit. I couldn’t let the museum blow up. I had come in here as a villain and suddenly I found myself playing the role of the hero. I unscrewed the screen that was counting down numbers at me. Four screws. One two three four.

            *beep beep beep beep*

            12:00.

            I lifted the screen slowly from the bomb, taking care not to disturb the wiring too much. There could have been another, smaller bomb rigged to blow. But no, there wasn’t. Of course not. Jack was a straightforward sort of guy. No secret bombs. No games.

            “If you go after that diamond, you’ll regret it,” he’d said to me.

            “Dammit, Jack,” I had replied at the time.

            But he had been right. I was already regretting it.

            11:44.

            I followed the wires with keen eyes. My silver tools glinted in the moonlight.

            *beep beep*

            *snip*

            A safe wire to cut. The beeping stopped.

            11:03.

            The numbers continued to tick down. Jack had packed extra wires into this bomb, making it harder to follow each lead to its conclusion.

            10:30.

            I found the wires that connected to the screen. I could switch off the countdown with one snip.

            I remembered Jack saying, “just because the clock stops at one doesn’t mean the bomb should.”

            9:20.

            I didn’t cut off the power to the screen. The numbers kept ticking down and I kept following wires. It helped that I knew Jack. I couldn’t have dismantled a stranger’s bomb. When I found the right wire, I was confident that a quick snip would be the end of it. Like I said, Jack was a straightforward sort of guy.

            *snip*

            *screech screech screech*

            “Dammit, Jack!”

            Bomb disarmed. Museum security system tripped. Classic Jack, a twist at the end. Perhaps I had been remiss when I called him straightforward. The numbers kept counting down.

            8:00.

            I packed up my tools, slung my bag back over my shoulder and leapt to my feet.

            7:48.

            I began to climb the rope. I’d been so careful coming into the museum. The rope through the skylight had worked a treat. I climbed the rope until I could grab the edge.

            6:11.

            I hoisted myself up through the skylight. A black-gloved hang caught my black-clothed arm and pulled me safely onto the roof.

            “I’m not letting you get away with that diamond,” said the figure in black. He settled into a fighting stance.

            “Dammit, Jack,” I said.

            5:37.

            I blocked Jack’s first punch and lashed out with a kick.

            *biff bam pow*

            *duck dodge hit*

            4:12.

            Jack caught my wrists and pulled me in close.

            “Security will be here any second,” he whispered.

            I brought my knee up, hard and fast, and hit him where it hurt. He cried out in pain and let go of my wrists. While he dropped to his knees, I turned and grabbed my rope out of the open skylight. Even with Jack in hot pursuit, the last thing I needed was for the police to get a hold of me via that rope. I shoved it in my bag with the diamond as I ran to the fire escape.

            2:59.

            *clang clang clang*

            My footsteps rang out loudly as I climbed down the ladder. As my shoes hit solid ground, I heard Jack leap onto the ladder and start his descent down the side of the museum. But I was already off at a run.

            1:00.

            I sprinted down the street, one hand touching my bag to make sure that it was safe and that I wouldn’t lose my precious contents. I turned left and kept running. My breath came heavily.

            0:30.

            I ducked into the train station and leapt over the turnstile. The security guard didn’t even bother standing up to yell at me; it was too late for any of that nonsense. A train was pulling into the station. Its doors slid open, welcoming me.

            0:15.

            “Stop!” Jack leapt the turnstile, coming after me.

            The doors to the train slid shut.

            “Dammit!” cursed Jack, bashing his fists on the window.

            I sat down on a brightly patterned seat and watched Jack yelling at me, shaking his fist at me, as the train pulled out of the station.

            Back at the museum, security entered the jewellery room to find a cabinet missing its diamond, a defused bomb and a digital clock that had stopped its countdown.

            0:00.