There was only one way out. They both knew it but neither of them wanted to do it. Doyle shifted position. "How long?" he asked hoarsely. Bodie glanced towards the door of the room.
"Four or five minutes. Maybe less." The mission had been a mess right from the start. There had been a leak of massive proportions that had ended up with Doyle as a hostage and himself being lured into this trap to rescue him. He gritted his teeth against the pain in his leg. Doyle had done his best to stanch the bleeding but Bodie knew that it wasn't enough. Even if he got hospital treatment soon, he reckoned he would end up like Cowley, stuck behind a desk for the rest of his life. Not that Doyle had fared much better either – Bodie had been forced to watch while they injected an entire syringe worth of something into his partner. Already Doyle kept stumbling and his breathing was ragged as if his lungs couldn't figure out what they were supposed to do.
"No time." Bodie shook his head woozily and wished he hadn't. Doyle noticed and crawled over. "C'mon Bodie, stay with me…" Bodie's eyes started to close. A stinging slap brought him back. "Don't; don't do this to me, Bodie!" Bodie opened his eyes.
"What's the point Ray? We're finished. I know that. You know that. They've got crates of that stuff and Cowley can't get us out in time." Can't get you out. The words were unvoiced but they hung in the air. Doyle ducked his head. Bodie noticed the wetness in his eyes.
"We still could…"
"Dammit Ray, I'm bleeding to death and you…" Doyle nodded.
"I'm sorry Bodie; I got us into this mess. If I hadn't been so stupid you wouldn't be here and –" he thumped the floor.
"s'not your fault sunshine. It was Matthew's. How were you supposed to know?"
"Shoulda checked. Shoulda done something!" Bodie struggled to sit up.
"So this is it. We just die." A sad determination flitted through Doyle's eyes.
"We could go down fighting."
"How?" Jaded resignation occupied the question.
"These barrels, you weren't there but I heard one of them snap at another –"
"About what?" Doyle pulled his lighter out of his pocket.
"He was lighting a cigarette. It's flammable." A dry Doyle-ish smile crept over his face, "more than that. Explosive." Bodie looked around the room.
"These are load-bearing beams."
"Yeah." Bodie glanced at Doyle, feeling dampness in his own eyes.
"Go out in a blaze of glory?" Laughing hollowly, he said, "like the song?"
"Suppose." Doyle stood up with some difficulty and began to unscrew the nearest barrel. "Did you ever think about how we'd go?" Bodie looked up at him.
"Never really gave it much thought."
"Neither did I. Kinda thought we were invincible. I mean, look at all we've been through." Bodie dragged himself upwards until he was sort of standing. A pungent smell was released. Doyle pulled out his lighter and held it over the hole. His hand shook.
"We were in the field for eleven years Ray. Some didn't make it eleven months." Doyle smiled. A tear ran down his cheek. Bodie could feel his welling up. No point in hiding them.
"We've been bloody lucky." He flicked the wheel. A small flame jumped up. Doyle looked over at Bodie. "You've been the best partner I've ever had. Wouldn't have wanted another."
"At the risk of sounding soppy, the same to you mate. You were the best," he paused, "I'll see you on the other side." He pulled himself until he was beside Doyle. He grabbed his hand. "Together?"
"Together. Our own personal glory."
He let the lighter drop.
Cowley stood by the gravestone. Rain slicked down his jacket and he was suddenly feeling all of his sixty eight years. Not enough of the bodies had been recovered for two separate graves, and he thought that this was what they would've wanted. He upended the bottle of Scotch onto the ground. "You were good lads," he said the empty air, "the very best. You did your duty right to the end." The new, shiny stone was covered in flowers. Cowley stepped away, regarding the inscription.
Raymond Doyle (1948 – 1986)
William Bodie (1950 – 1986)
Let's go out in a blaze of glory
All good things must end
Like two heroes in a story
Let's go out like we came in
In a blaze of glory
Well, he thought it was appropriate.