With July 4th just days away Amahd knew he couldn't possibly last. He looked down at the crack of light; his world. No shadows moved, and the whistling wind was coming from the northeast, so there wouldn’t be any fresh breeze.
He’d seen shadows pass by in the day and a half he’d been trapped. A wind-blown weed had been one, and the spindly-thin shadow legs of a small animal, probably a dog.
He’d stopped screaming within the first hour. Why waste breath? He was miles from anyone. The light from the crack was enough, barely, for him to see the plate under his foot. Just a corner he’d uncovered in the dirt floor. He looked away, brushing his sweaty hair out of his fiercely clinched eyes. The smell of the explosive chemicals all around him in the shack gave a vicious bite to each breath, keeping his head spinning, dizzy.
Amahd uncrumpled the note one last time. “Extremists like you disgust me. You are an affront to Islam. Your death will be an example.–Ibrahim”
The futility was overwhelming. It was time for an end. The terrorist stepped off of his landmine, and the world was bathed in flame.
Andrew E. Wheeler is a writer of speculative fiction by night and a marketer of financial products by day. His focus is mainly on epic fantasy, and his hard-hitting style combines with his fresh, believable characters to make stories that are truly gripping. He lives in Lehi, Utah with his two boys, his game collection, and a surprising grumpy fish named Doc.
© 2009 Andrew E. Wheeler. Original for CCF. Wheeler grants CCF first electronic rights for one month; CCF may archive the material indefinitely and include it in an eBook anthology.
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