Red Hand Revolt

He watched the red hand click forward – slowly, relentlessly. An eternity felt shorter.

He mopped his brow with whatever greasy wad was tucked in his pocket. He tossed the flimsy, crumpled up napkins aside. No more fast-food garbage for him. Filets from here on out.

He checked the two blue wires on his homemade device. Secure. Same with the connection to the vault door.         

Six months’ worth of planning for it to hinge on this one critical moment. The rush was unparalleled.

He looked over again at the clock in the bank lobby and smiled.

Thirty seconds to blast off.