Juan checked and then rechecked his equipment. Deep breath, then running. He reached the first support, grabbed the package and attached it without slowing. His hands already grabbed the next one before the beep-beep confirmed that the first charge was xxx. Three minutes.
He weaved from support to support, planting the C-4 charges. Juan had practiced until thought faded into action. He saw the timer counting down to detonation as if it was suspended in front of him. One minute left.
The last charge was planted just as the first exploded. Juan heard the groan of tearing metal as the first one toppled. He froze, stunned. It worked. Months of training had never prepared him for this. It was never expected to work.
“Juan! Juan, get your ass moving,” the voice came from the darkness to the left. “Damn.”
Carlos dashed out from behind cover and dragged Juan from his reverie. Juan glanced behind him to see the trail of explosions in his waked. The sunlight blinded him. He’d never seen the sun, not since Mexico became the solar-farm for North America.
The last he saw of his work before sliding down the hill was a bird flying across the blue sky.