Eddie plopped the cardboard box on the table next to Kelly, scattering
her notes off the edge of the small desk in the basement of the American
Embassy in London.
She grabbed at the rogue documents, “For heaven’s sake, Eddie!
Watch it!”
“Sorry, love,” he said as he snatched at a couple of sheets before they
hit the floor.
Kelly glared at him and his lopsided grin, “Is that it then?”
“Indeed, last one. Madam Curator wants it cataloged immediately.
Apparently, these bits ‘n bobs are for the Embassy’s World War II collection.
So, chop chop, Kelly girl.”
“Don’t say bits ‘n bobs, they’re artifacts.”
“Right, artifacts.” He popped a chocolate button into his mouth,
“Want one?”
“No!” She shooed him away, “Stop eating around this stuff.”
He leapt away, “I believe the word you’re looking for is artifacts,
dove.”
She tossed a pencil at him, he ducked and laughed.
“Well then, back to the salt mines, eh?” He headed for the storage
room next to Kelly’s research area.
Kelly tidied the papers and books on her desk, “With all the extra
security for the President’s visit, it’s a wonder we can get anything done
around here.”
“Indeed,” he said as he unlocked the heavy door.
Kelly called out, “Hey, will you get those new shelves up today?”
He shrugged, “Anything’s possible.”
She shook her head and muttered under her breath, “Cheeky Brit.”
Eddie turned back, “Beg pardon?”
Smiling, she waved him off, “Nothing, go back to work.”
He feigned offence, “You, love, are as bossy as my beau,” and closed the
heavy door behind him. Still smiling, she turned to the sagging cardboard box.
Donning gloves, Kelly pushed her dark hair out of her eyes and ran her
hands over the frayed corners of the box. She opened the lid and lifted out a
newspaper-wrapped item. Turning it over in her hands, the ink from the yellowed
paper dirtied her white gloves.
Laying it on the table, the newspaper fell away as she un-wrapped the
parcel that held a small leather roll-up tied in the center.
Unrolling it, she found a battlefield sewing kit from World War II. She
ran her finger lightly over the name stamped into the worn leather, “Cpl. Chas.
Fordham”.
Inside, there were safety pins, a few metal and wooden uniform buttons,
khaki and green thread, and several sewing needles of various sizes. She ran
her fingers over the almost pristine kit. The buttons seemed new, the needles
still sharp. Beneath the lining, a piece of shiny paper peeked out.
She tugged, and it came out. It was an old photo, folded and cracked. The
neat writing on the back said, “Me and Gilbert, 1944.” Kelly turned
it over and the worn picture was of two men, both wearing swimming trunks and
sitting on a wooden dock. Their bare legs dangled, arms entwined, and they were
kissing. She smiled.
Oh, how sweet…Eddie will get a kick-
BOOM!
Something rocked the building and shattered the clerestory windows at the
end of the research room. Glass sprayed across the linoleum floor. Grabbing the
desk phone, Kelly ducked under the small desk and pressed her back against the
cool metal. The Embassy’s fire alarm whined and clanged, but it sounded far
away. Her ears rang from the explosion.
BA-BOOM!
Another blast came from the storage room. The sound reverberated and
shuddered, banging her head against the desk. The room swam, and she smelled smoke.
The fire doors outside the research room slammed shut as pieces of the
low ceiling fell around the desk.
Peeking out, she yelled, “EDDDDIEEEEE!”
No answer.
P-taff! P-tiff! Pop! Pop!
Gunfire! Kelly ducked back under the desk; her hands shook as tore off
her gloves. Lifting the phone’s receiver, she listened. The line was dead. She
stared at it, helpless. Fear crept up her spine.
She dropped the phone, squinted at the storage room doors, and gauged the
distance.
Kelly wished she had worn tennis shoes instead of her heels, as she
bolted for the storage room. Slamming into the heavy steel, she pounded on the
door, “Eddie! Open up!”
She shook the handle, forgetting it was locked.
P-taff! P-taff! Pop!
She dropped to the floor; her bare knees hitting hard. She winced in pain
and slapped at the door, “Eddie, stop fooling around, open up!”
Kicking off her heels, she ran bare-stockinged across the floor to the
fire doors at the end of the room. Glass cut into her feet, but she didn’t
care. She pushed hard against the heavy doors. They didn’t budge. She turned;
her eyes swept the room, searching for a way out.
Dashing to the sewing kit, she grabbed a safety pin and one of the sewing
needles.
WHUMP!
Books and papers flew around her as she bolted to the storage room,
trailing blood behind her. Keeping low, Kelly stuck the two needles into the
door lock.
Fire engines and police sirens whined as helicopter blades cut the air
outside. Her heart pounded as she jiggled the two pins in the lock.
She closed her eyes, willing it to open. Something clicked, and she
gasped.
Yanking open the door, she found the room covered in fire-suppression
foam. A large hole in the wall gaped above Eddie’s lifeless body. Shards of
metal and glass protruded from his shirt. A spike of glass lodged in his neck.
Dark red bloomed beneath him.
Kelly screamed, “No!”
Falling to her knees, she cradled his head and pressed her hand to the
wound. Blood oozed through her fingers.
“Help! Somebody…please!”
She heard boots crunching in the broken glass behind her, but she didn’t
dare let go. Eddie opened his blue eyes for the last time as blood foamed at
his lips.
“Shhh…hang on, boyo.” Kelly smoothed the hair on his damp forehead.
His lips moved, but she could barely hear him. Leaning down close, she
heard,
“My Grandad always said, you never hear the one that gets you.”
He smiled and was gone.
