Bradley turned his head, just a touch, pure reflex, then turned back.
“There was this conversation we had,” he said, “About you explaining what you’re doing?”
I didn’t fault him for being wary. Our standard-issue knife is not something that inspires a whole lot of confidence. It’s four inches of blade, plus handle – all of it an ugly, dull grey. Dull being the operative word, since it’s pure iron and therefore can’t hold an edge for toejam. There’s a reason people ditched iron weapons as soon as steel was an option. Alas, for us, it’s the Iron Age every day, from now until happily ever after.
“Relax,” I told Bradley, “I’m not planning neurosurgery.”
I pulled the bottom of my t-shirt away from my stomach and carefully cut into the fabric. One short cut down, at the side, one long cut across the middle, and one more short cut that turned into a sort of sawing, because the damn knife was, yeah losing its edge.
Now I had a strip of cloth. And Bradley could see my belly button.
I grabbed the hand sanitizer from my jacket pocket, squeezed some out, and rubbed it into Bradley’s head and ear. He winced, but didn’t make a sound, just looked at me with those eyes that made you want to confess things.
I tied the strip of cloth around his head, covering as much of the damage as I could. Then I sat back and examined my handiwork. It would do. It would have to.
“Thanks,” he said.
“No worries,” I said, “But it’s not very stylish. You look like…”
“The Karate Kid?” he asked, “Ryu, from Street Fighter? Rambo?”
“Well, I was going to say a dork, but…”
I stood up and offered him my hand. He took it, and pulled himself up.
We both turned to look at the mouth of the outflow pipe.
“Chinatown,” he said.
I blinked and turned to look at him. He was still staring at the doorway into darkness.
“Forget it, Bradley, it’s Fairyland,” he added, “It was a Chinatown reference. The end of the movie.”
“If you got it…” I said.
He shrugged. “I didn’t think it related. It’s a tragic ending where the innocent suffer, the bad guy triumphs and the good guy’s powerless.” He finally turned to look at me, and his lip did that twitching almost-smile again. “Nothing like our situation, right?”
“Nothing at all,” I said.
We walked into the tunnel.