Reckoning Point, стр. 73

I nodded. “I have to turn the gas taps on, all of them. I’m to leave it for ten minutes then light the fuse on the wire.” A fear physically shook my body, turning my stomach to water. “Are you sure we will have enough time to get out?”

The Colonel nodded in a kindly, old-man way. “Yes, because I told you, it takes at least half an hour for the gas to reach the fuse.” He stopped, frowned again. “Do you remember how I told you it works?”

I did. The gas would escape from the tap underneath the sink in the kitchen area, the ones that I was to turn on in the parking garages downstairs would help the process along. The Colonel had told me the pipe in the garage lead straight to this apartment as a kind of reserve gas tap, in case the one in the kitchen ever stopped working. I hadn’t known that, and I thought it was very wise of the building’s landlord to do that, so nobody would ever be left without heating should something happen to the apartment’s own gas supply. From then, it would take at least thirty minutes for the gas to reach the lit fuse on the end of the wire that was set up and trigger the explosives. I’d asked the Colonel what the blocks of clay was for, but he said it wasn’t clay, it was dynamite. I knew what that was, I’d watched Roadrunner, that wily coyote used it all the time, but it didn’t look like the stuff the Colonel had got.

“And Mark, you are clear on the procedure?”

Mark barely shrugged from where he sat in Vinnie’s old chair in the lounge. Mark was what my mother would call a ‘liability’. I had been doing all the work here, well, me and the Colonel. Mark had just had his face on the glass coffee table, sniffing all the white powder up his nose and putting the brown liquid into syringes in his arms. I had been surprised that the Colonel had allowed such behaviour from Mark, and even more surprised when I had seen the Colonel tie the belt around Mark’s arm and actually inject the heroin himself! The Colonel had seen my questioning look, and he had taken me into the bedroom for a ‘man-to-man’ chat, as he called it.

And I admit, I had felt very grown up when the Colonel confided in me that Mark wasn’t handling this as well as me, and he had to keep him sedated for his own good.

Mark wasn’t as strong as me, the Colonel said, and I had puffed up with pride.

That had been two days ago, and Mark still wasn’t managing to cope. So the doctor had kept injecting him, and Mark was all calm and relaxed now.

In fact, he reminded me a lot of Smith, in poor old Smith’s final days.

“So, it is all in your hands,” said the Colonel now as he passed me a lighter.

I looked down at it, realised it had belonged to Miles. I clasped it tight in my grip. Once I had lit the fuse, I would take the lighter and treasure it forever. It would be a reminder of the wonderful friends I had once had.

There was one thing troubling me, that the boys would die all squashed up in that bathtub. I knew we couldn’t give them a proper funeral, but to me, them being in the bath just didn’t feel right. It felt … disrespectful.

“Can we bring the brothers out here?” I asked, tentatively.

The Colonel looked at me, and I rushed on. “It just doesn’t seem right, I-I really want to move them out here, in their chairs, where they always used to sit.”

And to my surprise, he agreed.

Together – for Mark was no help – we carried the bodies of Miles, Vinnie and David and sat them in a row on the sofa. I tried not to look at my friends and when it came to carrying Vinnie I moved quickly down to the feet, so I wouldn’t have to be near his shoulder stumps.

I looked at them now, in a row, nestled together. I didn’t see the bags over their heads, I didn’t see the blood stains or the missing arms. I saw my friends, how they were, always laughing, now, at peace.

“All set, boy?” asked the Colonel, and then before I could reply, he put his hands on my shoulders and looked into my eyes. “I’m very proud of you, Roland. You have done an incredible job of helping me clean up this mess.”

I smiled at him, open and pure.

Perhaps, maybe once this was all over with, perhaps the Colonel could be my new friend.

“So, good job, son,” said the Colonel, and with a final glance at the almost comatose Mark and a final flick of his coat, he clamped his hat on his head and left the apartment.

In the garage I aimed the little torch the Colonel had given me at the board which held all the gas metres. He had been down here with me yesterday, showed me how to turn the taps, ‘just like a kitchen or bathroom sink tap’ he’d said. He had even got me to twist one to make sure I could turn it with ease.

And I could. And this too, had pleased the Colonel.

I turned the taps, eight of them in all, the ones that the Colonel had pointed out to me. I heard the gas hissing out of the little splits that I’d made with my own penknife. I nodded, checked my watch, and made my way back up to the top floor.

Mark hadn’t moved from his chair. He was staring at the television which wasn’t even switched on.

“Mark,” I said as I opened the cupboard