Reverence, he thinks. Reverence. Life is costly and must be treated with dignity, must be guarded or disposed of with gravity. Do not take it lightly, his pastor once said. He knits his brow, sweat gathering like pearls. He thinks of Christ in Gethsemane and on Golgotha—precious blood staining His skin and the wood of the cross, flowering on dusty stones. Hands clenched with exquisite, divine agony.
Thickly laced wires, carefully turned screws. Now to attach the C4. Glass will fly like razor blades, concrete will pulverize, steel will bend like knees, saving the unborn. Salvation disrupts the designs of the wicked, he reminds himself as he blinks.
A spark travels up a misplaced wire, and as the block begins to erupt, flame reaches for him like God in a kiss of light.