the package
Sweat beaded his forehead and stung his eyes. Dan brought his arm up, dragged it across his face and tried to focus on what he was doing. He was very aware that time was slipping by. One way or another, he had to finish this soon. He was relieved that he had gotten this far without blowing something up but he knew his luck wouldn't last much longer.
Dan was just an ordinary guy. He did not consider himself a hero. But his two tours of duty in Afghanistan as an explosive device expert had not prepared him for this. It's funny, he thought, this morning started out so good.
The package was sitting in the foyer, just inside the door, when he got home from work. His wife, Sandy, told him "I was afraid to open it. I, well, ..." Her voice trailed off as she looked to the right where their daughter sat watching television.
"You should have gotten her out of the house."
"I thought we'd be safe if I just left it there. It is heavy. What are you going to do? Should I call for help?"
"Let me look at it. Maybe we are making too big a deal out of this." Dan carefully opened the top of the carton. He glanced over at his daughter, who was fully engrossed in her program, then turned his attention to the contents. That is when he first started to sweat.
"This is much worse than I thought. I am going to have to do this right here but I can't concentrate with Samantha so close. Take her someplace safe. Maybe to your mother's?"
"Would we be safe in the backyard? I don't want to leave you."
That had been over an hour ago. Dan had started by slowly and methodically dismantling the package. He had never seen so many tie wraps in his life. Whoever had put this together had been ingenious. And diabolical. But Dan was up to the task. He had almost finished when there was a buzzing in his pocket.
He pulled out his phone and read the message. "The sun will be down in a half hour. Running out of things to do back here. I didn't hear any big boom so I assume you haven't blown up the foyer. Can we come in?"
"Five minutes," he texted back. He wiped his forehead again. This was the crucial part. His daughter's safety depended on it. He noticed that his hand shook a bit as he picked up the wrench but he took a deep breath and carefully fitted the open end to the outside nut. "Clockwise to tighten," he thought. He tightened both sides, checked his work, and texted Sandy; "Bring her in."
Dan stood back to admire his work. Amidst all of the cardboard, bubble wrap, and tie wraps stood a brand new pink bicycle with a white leather seat. Held upright by the training wheels, colorful streamers hung from the handle grips. He wiped his forehead one last time and turned to watch for his daughter's reaction.
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