Pull the Trigger

         "Would you kill for your daughter, Michael?"
         The clock on the wall was ticking louder than normal as Michael glared at the stranger sitting on the other side of the massive, antique mahogany desk. "I would kill you," He replied with all the venom he could spit.
         The stranger smiled. "That's the spirit," he said softly. Without taking his eyes off of Michael's, the stranger leaned forward and placed a picture on the desk. "Before you do, Michael," he warned, "you might want to know the rules."
         Michael looked down at the picture on the desk and his heart dropped down into his stomach. There before him was an image of his three-year-old daughter, Sophie, gagged and bound, lying in the open trunk of a car. She looked to be sleeping, surrounded by grey colored blocks with wires all around. There was a small, black digital clock strapped to her chest. Just before rage could bring him to his feet, the stranger laid a gun down on the desk, next to the picture. Michael froze, confused. "If you hurt her, I will kill you with my bare hands. I won't need the gun."
         "Do you know who I am?" the stranger asked, sitting back in the chair.
         "A dead man," he said it like an oath.
         The stranger only stared back with a grin. "Well, that is one of the choices before you," he said. "But you might want to hear the other option and the rules before you choose."
         "Who are you? Why are you doing this?"
         "None of that matters right now, Michael," the stranger replied with a dismissive wave of a hand. "What matters is that in exactly," he looked at his watch, "seven minutes and twenty seconds, your daughter will die a horrible death unless you play by the rules of the game."
         A game? This sonofabitch is playing a game? Time was running out. "What game?"
         "You have two choices before you," the stranger explained quickly. "The first is to kill. We already established that part. The second is to die." He paused to let it sink in. "You will use the gun to make your choice."
         "That's easy," Michael said as he reached for the gun.
         "But you don't know the rules yet."
         Michael picked up the gun and pointed it at the stranger's head. It felt heavy in his hand. He only distantly realized he had never held a gun before in his life. "What rules?"
         "If you kill me," the stranger said, not the least bit worried about the gun pointed at him. "You will never find your daughter in time."
         "What are the rest of the rules?" he asked. He felt his hand start to shake from the weight of the gun.
         "That's it."
         "What the fuck are you talking about?" he shouted at the man.
         "If you want to save your daughter," he spoke slowly; making sure Michael heard every word clearly. "You have to pull the trigger, knowing I am the only one who can stop that bomb from going off. It is up to you where the barrel is pointed."
         With sudden realization, Michael let his arm drop to his side. Nobody knew where he was; he had slipped out the back door while the police were looking over photos of Sophie. His wife was sitting on the couch being comforted by her best friend, Sarah. He had received the text and simply acted, his daughter's life his only concern. There would be no rescue. There was only one way out of this.
         The stranger smiled wide. "Now you understand the game, don't you, Michael?"
         Slowly, Michael brought the gun up and put the cold barrel against his temple. His hand was sweaty, and he felt like he might lose his grip.
         The stranger looked at his watch. "Two minutes and four seconds, Michael."
         "How do I know you will let her go?" He asked in a voice that didn't sound like his own.
         "You don't." The reply came quickly. "But the alternative?" he left the rest unsaid.
         Michael closed his eyes, trying to think of another way. Time was running out for Sophie. There was only one choice. He adjusted his grip on the gun and pressed it firmly against his skin. He began to squeeze the trigger.
         There was a loud bang and the sound of glass shattering. Something hot and wet splattered across his face, and he jumped, dropping the gun to the floor. He opened his eyes to see the stranger slouched sideways in the chair, the right side of his head blown open. Blood, brains and bone covered the wall. Someone kicked in the door to the office and several police officers rushed in, pointing their guns at the stranger.
         "Are you ok, Mr. Moore?" One of the officers asked.
         "Wait!" he yelled. "Where is my daughter? Did you find his car?"
         "Don't worry, Mr. Moore," The officer said. "We will find her."
         "How did you know I was here?" he asked.
         "We noticed you were gone so we tracked your cell phone."
         One of the other officers picked up the gun lying next to Michael's desk and quickly examined it. "It's not loaded," he said.
         Michael looked at the gun, then up to the officer's eyes. "Not loaded?" he was starting to panic. "We have to find the car!"
         Nobody was listening to him. He stood up and headed for the door. How much time do I have before-
         The explosion shook the walls and blew in the rest of the windows. Glass and flame filled the office before blackness and silence were all that remained.