I take another look over the lip of the stairs. Another look at my fate. Below me, Friedrich’s Uhrwerkmänner still scurry industriously, piecing together their personal doomsday device.
Shit.
“I wish Felicity were here,” I say, mostly to myself.
“She’s going to be so pissed at us.” Tabitha peers over the ledge to my left.
Clyde appears to my right. “I don’t know what to say.” He seems on the edge of tears. “I wish somehow, that maybe… Well, can’t be totally dishonest and say that I wish it was me. I don’t wish it was me. But I wish it wasn’t you either. Not sure if I’d wish it upon anyone really. I guess that’s what I’m trying to say. Terribly sorry that anyone has to die. And even more so that the person in particular has to be you. Don’t want it to seem like this is some general regret that doesn’t really affect me personally.” He sniffs loudly. “Obviously it is. Very keen on you actually, Arthur. Totally platonic of course. Wouldn’t care for any, ‘Kiss me, Hardy,’ confusion here at what is ostensibly presenting itself as the end.” Another sniff. “Just, you know, very good friends, and…” He descends into further sniffles and snuffs.
“Bit fucked,” says Tabitha, nodding at Clyde with what might be significantly more affection than she has given him in a while. “What he’s trying to say.”
“Yes,” I manage. “Yeah, that had occurred to me.”
“So,” says Kayla from behind the three of us. “Any bright ideas on how to get to that feckin’ weak point then? Once more into the feckin’ breach and all that shite?”
Is there something like emotion in her voice? It’s very hard to tell.
I look down again, try to see the space as a tactical problem rather than a meat grinder I am about to throw myself into.
“Erm,” I say. This has never been my strong point, despite the fact that it’s at least fifty percent of my job description. Cat-herding, that’s really what I can do.
And now I’m going to leave them all behind. MI37. The dysfunctional bastards. Some MI6 wanker will be in charge of them next, I suppose. Jesus.
Unfinished business…
I really do wish Felicity were here. Then I could apologize. I could try and set things right.
I look over at Hermann. There is a man at peace with his future. At least that is how he appears, readying his troops, going through the ranks, talking to them one-by-one, making sure that they too are ready for the sacrifice.
I’m bloody not. Not at all.
I should have said something to Felicity. Explained myself. I could have done so much differently.
That’s a sad thought to have just before… this.
God, I really fucked up the past few days. Trapped in my own head instead of thinking about all the things going on outside of it.
This was always coming. That’s the sad little revelation I have at the end. This moment was always inevitable. I didn’t perhaps expect it to be as startlingly apparent as it is now, but there may be some good in that too. A moment of clarity before it’s all over.
I got too caught up in the dying. Not in all the bits that happened on the way, that’s the problem.
And now… Felicity. She’s never going to have… I don’t know… what I could have offered. Who knows if that really would have been that good, but for a while she seemed to enjoy my particular brand of boyfriend-ing.
God, I fucked it all up at the end.
I look down at the stairs. Feel the eyes on me, waiting expectantly. The plan…
What goddamn plan? We’ll get down the stairs and the Uhrwerkmänner will meet us like a metal fist connecting with a soft fleshy jaw.
I glance to Hannah. “You’re meant to be good at this, right?” I say. “You got any ideas?”
She looks at me for a moment, suspicious.
“No,” she says. “Honestly. I’ve got nothing right now.”
And that’s something else I’ve screwed up, I see now. Felicity was right all along. Hannah is a resource I could have used, rather than someone for me to butt my head against.
Ah well, better late than never.
Hannah waits until it’s clear that really no one is about to make a sarcastic comment, and then creeps forward to the ledge.
“Well,” she says, “point of ingress is obviously the stairs. Don’t have any rappeling gear. Bit under-prepared, but I think we can manage. But it means we’re going to need a pretty hardcore tip of the spear and then some fairly withering support fire from up here.”
Support fire. I look around. “Clyde,” I say, “that’s you.”
“Yeah,” Hannah agrees. “I’d say me too, but you and I need to leg it down there and get in position.”
I nod, and try to avoid dealing with the reality of that statement. “So we’re helping lead the charge.”
“What? No! Are you bloody mental?” Her eyebrows pop up.
Maybe there was a reason why I didn’t consult Hannah on this stuff more frequently.
“It’s vital,” Hannah points out, “that you stay alive right up until the point where, well, you know, you need to…” She whistles, looks upward, closes her eyes, and crosses her hands over her heart. I think that might be meant to pass for sensitive. “Any premature rigor mortis on your part,” she continues, “and that bomb’s going to be as pissed as any girl who’s been cheated of the main event. She’s going to blow up all over the place.”
I probably could have gone to my grave without having seen the poetry that lurks in Hannah’s soul.
“Nah,” Hannah continues. “I think, actually, we send the Uhrwerkmänner down first. Hermann and his boys. They’re outnumbered like crazy, but their goal is pretty specific—open a path. You and me, we let them pile down there. Help Tabitha and Clyde out a bit. Then, once the path is open, we head down and see how much shit we can fuck up.”
That last bit sounds a lot like one of my plans.
“What the feck am I supposed to be doing?” Kayla asks. “Sitting here twiddling my feckin’ thumbs?”
“Well, you’re fucking up shit already, aren’t you?” Hannah doesn’t even bat an eyelid. “That’s your whole thing. Didn’t think I’d have to hold you back.”
“Actually,” Kayla says with a nod, “I think I feckin’ like it when you plan.”
And seriously? The moment of disloyalty couldn’t have waited until after I’m too dead to hear it?
Footsteps behind us, heavy and clanking. I turn. Hermann, it seems, is done getting his forces on board. “We are ready,” he announces.
Everyone just looks at me. Apparently I have to condemn myself. As if I’d have the opportunity to hold it against them for longer than five minutes.
I nod. “Same here. More or less.”
“Buck up,” says Clyde, “blaze of glory and all that.” His voice breaks at the end, and he turns away, eyes glistening.
I worry that if we hold on any longer we’re going to slide away from more and toward less.
“The Uhrwerkmänner have to lead the charge,” I say to Hermann. “Hannah and I will head to the Uhrwerkgerät as soon as you open a path.”
Hermann nods. “Then the honor will be all ours,” he says. “It is as it should be.”
I decide not to be offended, and just take his agreement as a victory.
“Feckin’ wanker.” Kayla is less charitable.
Fortunately Hermann is too wrapped up in his moment of glory to pay even the slightest attention to Kayla. He turns to the gathered Uhrwerkmänner.
“For our past!” he shouts. “For the future that lies beyond us! For honor! For victory!”
And then, before I can really get a handle on the fact that this is actually finally happening, he’s moving. The charge is on. The end begins.