“I’m sorry guys. But you’re all going.” They hadn’t heard Chip speak in that tone of voice before.
Doc looked at Chip. “We rats are not naturally brave, or loyal. We’re fast, and we’re good Maggot killers. But our loyalty can be earned. You’ve earned it. We won’t leave you.”
Chip found speaking difficult. “I’m grateful. And I would hate to leave you guys. Honest. I’ve . . . I’ve sort of forgotten that you aren’t really human. Hell. I think you’re . . . better than human.” He paused. “But you must get out. You must. Ginny and I can’t. Firstly, you must get back over the lines. All the Maggots in creation are around here, nowhere else. If you go right now and hide just inside the shield, some of you should manage to get out when it goes up. You bats especially. You should be able to tell our side so much. Stuff that’ll keep grunts who are just like me and Gin—Dermott alive. And . . . you could tell them Doc’s story. I’m not saying anyone will believe you. Just tell them.”
He sighed. “Secondly, if you feel that way about leaving Ginny and me, we feel just as bad about you staying. Hey, Ginny?”
Behind her glasses her eyes sparkled with tears. “Yes. Go. Please. Please, please go. I couldn’t bear it if any of you stayed. You all been my first ever real . . . friends. And Chip is right. So many sacrifices have been made to get us this far. For Phylla, Siobhan, and Behan’s sake you must get back to the human side of the lines. For our sakes too. Don’t let all of this be in vain. Please . . . dear friends.”
There was another one of those jellylike silences.
Then Eamon said. “You’re right, indade. We’ll get the rats out, and then return to stand by you. Wing to shoulder, eh!”
Chip shook his head gently. “No, Eamon. You must go with them. Without you bats they’d have no chance. You couldn’t abandon them while there was still hope, could you? With you, especially you, because you are biggest and bravest, they have some chance. We know we can trust you and rely on you.”
The big bat promptly hid his wrinkled face in his wings.
* * *
The farewells were done. The bats had taken the line up to the ventilation hole.
Fluff had just clung to Virginia’s neck, big eyed and miserable. Besides the contents of sixteen Molotov-cocktail bottles, every single rat except Doc had given Chip a bottle. The thought that the two of them would at least not have to die sober appeared to mean a great deal to Fal. Doc had made up for his lost alcohol with a snippet of philosophical thought that Chip would have found comforting and brilliant . . . if he’d understood one word in ten.
Finally, they went.
Eamon had fluttered down at the last, when the cord had already been pulled up. “If we do get back . . . we’ll immortalize you in song. Batdom will never, never forget you.”
They were left staring at the roof. Finally, Chip sighed, and drew the Solingen.
“What are you planning to do with that?” she asked, her voice a little tight.
“I dunno. See if I can sharpen it? Maybe I’ll get a few more Maggots with it that way.”
“What does it really matter?”
“I dunno. I couldn’t just give up.”
“Um.” She spoke now in a very small voice. “I’ve got something to give to you.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out a small shapeless lump of what might once have been silver paper. “Melene . . . gave me this to give to you.” Her voice was almost inaudible.
Chip looked at it. “Er. Just what is it?”
She looked into his eyes. He saw there were tears starting in the corners of her eyes again. She sniffed. “It was her most precious possession. She’d . . . only ever had one before.” Ginny’s chin quivered. “It . . . it was a chocolate.”
Chip stared at her, open mouthed.
Ginny sniffed determinedly. “Rats don’t really understand. I told her, you . . . Uh . . . Anyway, she said I must give it to you. She insisted.”