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A TINY RUBBER TIRE, Acracked headlight, and a plastic door—what was left of the remote-controlled green truck lay in pieces around me.

I sat on the floor in the middle of the room with the plastic sheeting. The weather was warm, and it was muggy inside the room. Spring was coming. David was in short sleeves, his hairless arms throbbing with veins. Sweat beaded on his upper lip. He had a particular look in his eye, a feral gleam that wasn’t quite right. I held two wires in my hands, one white and one red—both harvested from inside the truck.

David crouched beside me. “That’s it, Destiny,” he said. My name in his mouth was slippery, like oil. “Connect the wires to the tube.” His tongue darted out, licking the sweat from his upper lip. I did as I was told, my hands shaking.

The tube had been prepared earlier. A hole had been drilled in it. Then it had been filled with black powder and broken glass and capped. Vaseline clung to one end of the tube, and it made my fingers slip, the wires nearly connecting.

“Easy,” David said. He petted my hand. His palms were moist. “Don’t want any accidents.”

I set the tube and wires down, placing them far away from each other. I flexed my fingers, trying to steady my hands. I stared down at the red and white wires until the colors bled together.

David withdrew a watch from his back pocket. “Set the time and attach it.” I took the watch from him. Gently, I opened the face. It was an old piece, beautiful, probably an antique. Such a shame. I set the time and attached the white and red wires. In two hours, they would cross, and then… BOOM.