“We can’t go very far north. We’d have to climb up the rim without equipment. We’d be in the same spot as our first option,” I said.
“Agreed,” Eddie said. So we have to go west.”
“Maybe we can reason with them,” Father Pat said.
“Padre, if I hadn’t been awake, we’d all be dead. These guys, and whoever is with them, came to kill us all,” I said, as I pointed at the dead men.
“Tony—if Fleet died before he woke you to relieve him—why were you awake?”
“Had to pee.”
“Classic!” Eddie said. “We owe the rest of our lives to an old man’s bladder.”
“I’m in Dublin. I’m asleep. I’m having the worst nightmare of my life. Must be Divine retribution for my addiction to Bushmills. I’ll wake soon. I’ll get good psychiatric care. I’ll never drink Protestant whiskey again. It’ll be Jameson from now on
