Stethos

“Will you hurry up already?” Jay hisses, bouncing back and forth on his feet as if his shoes were made of springs. His face twitches as he pulls at the sleeves of his torn black sweatshirt.

“Shh. I can’t hear anything over your whining,” Damien spits back, pressing his stethoscope against the metal door.

Jay gives him a sideways glance. “I don’t understand why you insist on doing it this way. You know there’s high-tech stuff for this now, right?”

Damien ignores Jay. This is what he lives for.

Metal on metal. Faintest vibrations, thin coils, ears attuned. Heightened senses. Listening to the elusive heart. Waiting for it to reveal itself.

Click.

Sweaty palms in tight leather gloves. Spinning gently, slowly, not missing a subtle movement.

Click.

Whispers of gears over the pounding of blood. Sharp focus, steady hands. Rotation left, rotation right.

Click.

The final click echoes, like the cracking of a chasm in the earth’s crust.

Damien drops his hands.

Pushing down on the lever, the seal breaks. Air rushes in and escapes simultaneously.

Damien and Jay lock eyes. Damien pulls open the heavy door and dark becomes light.

They gape at the inside of the safe.

Empty.