The Dictator

Chapter Twentyone

Frantically, Alina gropped around under the desk. Where was that damn spring? Her fingers threw up dust as she felt around. She layed hand on something long and thin, and pulled it out, hopefully. It was just a discarded pen lid. With a fustrated sigh, Alina shoved it in her pocket and went back to the search.

Unseen by anybody, the dial's needle crept slowly closer and closer to the red. The bomb began to make a faint whistling noice, that went unnoticed.

Flynn got up from the dusty floor.
"It's useless." he said, in a panicky voice. The only thing we can do, is look for a spare." As he said the words, he had already slid open a previously concealed draw in the desk. His quick hands dug through piles of rusty bolts, leaky batteries, and age-old test tubes. Suddenly he let out a loud exclamation, then raised his hand from the draw. Blood flowed freely from a long deep cut that stretched across his parm and part of his wrist. "Some idiot left a knife in there." he groaned, then used his other hand to lift the offensive weapon out. He set it down lightly on the bench top.

"Alina, could you have a look?" he asked. "Be careful though. There might be other stuff in there." Alina nodded, and he took a dirty rag out of his pocket. Alina recognized it as the one he had used to mop up the ammonium. I seemed years ago now that Flynn had crushed that test tube under his foot. He wrapped the rag around his bleeding hand. Suddenly his eyes caught on the dial and shot open. "Hurry. We're almost out of time!"

Alina dug through piles of screwdrivers, old wires, and what looked like miniature tea trays. Finally she pulled out a spring. As the dial moved ever closer to their doom and the bomb began groan, Flynn grabbed the spring in his non-injured hand, and thrust it gingerly into the bomb. Ignoring the bright red stain growing across the rag, he took up the spanner, and began awkwardly trying to fix it in place. But he wasn't used to using his right hand, and the pain in his left hand grew and grew. Just before the dial's needle swung into the red, he finished and flung the spanner down on the bench. It landed with a clang that made Alina wince. The ringing sound echoed around the room for a few moments, then silence reigned supreme. Solemnly, she watched as Flynn removed the rag and look down at his hand. The ragged wound that stretched across it was still gushing blood. He groaned and slumped against the bench.

Alina's eyes widened as she realized he was losing far too much blood; the old rag was already uselessly stenched in the gory red liquid.
"We have to get help!" she exclaimed loudly.
"No..." Flynn groaned. "Don't bring Miles. I'll be fine-".

Before he could finish, he fell forward from the desk with a crash and dropped to the floor. The rag fell from his hands. Alina just stood and stared for a moment in disbelief. Flynn was out cold.