Exodus: Keys to the Kingdom

Gunshy perked up quickly. First, a twist of the ear, then a lightning quick snap of the muzzle towards the front door.

Burt, attention freshly ripped from his laptop computer screen, darted to the light switch and plunged the room into darkness. He dropped to the ground and began to traverse the livingroom floor via army crawl. Gunshy beat him to the punch and begun to growl and scratch at the front door.

BURT: Pstt. Gunshy. Quiet. Get away from there.

Gunshy immediately ceased his scare tactics and crouched into a low profile, ready to waylay whoever walked through the door. Burt had made his way back to the workstation, immediately, instinctively searching through the most recent security data to try and pinpoint the potential breach. In the back part of his mind, usually reserved for a quiet hymn, began a prayer that Gunshy had merely heard a fallen branch, or maybe a bobcat slinking through the area. Bobcats seemed to know how to evade the sensors at this point. The tension began to dissipate as Burt poured over the reports. No motion detected in sector one. Nor sector two. Nor three, four, five, six, or seven. Luna Point all clear.

Burt slumped back in his chair with a sigh of relief. It was probably just the wind. Of course it was just the wind. No one knew about the remote location Burt maintained.

BURT: You may have gotten us all worked up for nothing, Gunshy.

Burt grinned at his trusted companion, reaching down to scratch under her chin. Gunshy readjusted his position to regain an unobstructed view of the doorway. He could hear her whining ever so softly.

BURT: It’s nothing, girl.

Gunshy was not convinced. To alleviate concern, Burt moved to the steel reinforced front door and peered into the panoramic peephole. Darkness.

BURT: Confirmed. All clear. Must’ve been Santa dropping off a gift for a good little pup.

Gunshy skeptically toed her way closer to the door, leading with a nose that was firing on all cylinders.

BURT: Still not so sure, eh?

Burt revisited his workstation, opened the desk drawer, and retrieved his SIG P228.

BURT: Well, why don’t have a look then?

A lap around the house usually calmed everyone down. Gunshy hadn’t been out in hours, anyhow.

The large framed woodsman unbolted the door lock, the redundant one too, and took a halted breath before swinging it open a foot, perhaps two. Burt didn’t anticipate the extra weight that was apparently leaning on the other side and lost his footing as a humanoid mass spilled inside the fortress. Gunshy sprang into action and started snapping at the mass with ferocious abandon. The mass reached out and grabbed the bottom of Burt’s pants leg. Burt kicked the protuberance away and regained his stance.

BURT: What the? You picked the wrong house.

The mass began a coughing fit as it rolled over.

BURT: You stay right there. Don’t move. I mean it. I’ll blow your brains out.

Burt took a closer look, barrel locked onto a headshot. He squinted. He could have recognized this mass.

BURT: Who are you?

The intruder struggled to keep his breath.

BURT: Well? Speak!

The mass managed to gasp out in the softest of voices.

HUMANOID MASS: Toynbee.

Had Burt heard that correctly?

BURT: Say again?

HUMANOID MASS: Toynbee.

BURT: Cecil. It is you. What the hell? You shouldn’t be here for months.

CECIL: Toynbee.

Burt holstered his weapon in the waist of his jeans.

BURT: Got it. Asshole. You scared the piss out of me.

Burt looked down at a shivering Malamute, placing his hand on the dog’s head.

BURT: Gunshy too.

It had become painfully apparent that Burt hadn’t interacted with another human being in quite some time. As Cecil lay maimed, writhing on the foyer floor, Burt became a Chatty Carl. Burt’s sense of behavioral cues had atrophied.

BURT: What the hell happened to you? Is that blood?

Cecil didn’t respond. He’d lost consciousness many moments prior. Burt looked around for seemingly nothing before dragged his benefactor closer to the heater. He was pleased, or maybe it was more like relieved that he had time to do some housekeeping before Cecil woke up.

Much time, Burt didn’t have, but he sure made the best of it.

Roughly forty five minutes later, Cecil regained consciousness with a slow rolling groan. Burt ran upstairs in concern of his condition.

BURT: Cecil. You’re awake.

Cecil rubbed his head.

BURT: Do you need anything?

Then he shook his head.

CECIL: How long was I out?
BURT: Not long. Five, ten minutes tops. What happened to you?
CECIL: I can barely remember. I tripped. Rolled down a steep hill. I think I busted my leg on a sharp rock. 
BURT: It’s treacherous out there. Tough terrain. Especially at dark.

Cecil looked up.

CECIL: I realize. Is there a first aid kit? Water?
BURT: In the pantry. Don’t get up.

Burt pointed to the heater as he turned towards the kitchen.

BURT: Gunshy stay.

Gunshy whipped around and locked his gaze onto a feeble Cecil.

BURT: Are you sure you don’t need some serious medical attention? That’s a pretty nasty gash.

CECIL: It’ll be fine. Water.
BURT: Excuse me?

Cecil harnessed the energy of his irritation to raise his voice.

CECIL: I NEED WATER.

Cecil reclined into a laying position. That took a lot out of him. In a jiffy, Burt returned with a cup of water and the robust first aid kit.

BURT: Gauze and some baby aspirin in there.

Burt stood over Cecil, awaiting the next move.

CECIL: I just needed to lay down for a moment. I’m feel fine now. Maybe a little hungry.
BURT: I was going to have some eggs and berries. How’s that sound?

It was always business first when it came to Cecil.

CECIL: How many chickens are there?

Burt had been preparing for the inquisition.

BURT: Twelve. One rooster. About fifty yards from the back door.

Burt motioned south.

CECIL: I’ll have what you’re having.

Cecil rolled over and opened the first-aid kit.

BURT: I’ll start us some coffee first.

Whilst inspecting his immediate surroundings, Cecil tore open an individually wrapped baby aspirin and downed it with a sip of the room temperature water.

CECIL: Sure are a lot of creature comforts in this place. Is that a flat screen in the kitchen?

A sense of pride cascaded over Burt. This wasn’t his property per se, but he definitely did the decorating. It was basically home.

BURT: Oh yeah. I hooked it up, brother.
CECIL: Must’ve gotten a hell of a generator. Kerosene? Propane? Not gasoline I hope.
BURT: No generator. Concentrated solar film.

A recent advancement in the field of photovoltaic solar.

CECIL: What about at night? Is that how I snuck up on you? Because the security system wasn’t juiced up and running?

Burt chuckled.

BURT: I’ve got about six of those 20 kilowatt Iota Powerwells daisy chained in the basement. Plus everything here is super efficient. Every single appliance sips power. I tested the system from full charge to drain…lasted four weeks.

Cecil was skeptically delighted to hear that piece of news. Technology indeed.

CECIL: You’re kidding. Was that with just one light on?
BURT: Ha. That was with twenty 9 watt LEDs, forty 20 watt LEDs, massive freezer unit, a 47 inch LED television, wireless router, twelve motion cameras, albeit they were never activated but were in standby mode, an electric range, heating, water pumps….I know I’m forgetting some things. 
CECIL: You went a month? Running all that?
BURT: Well, I did cut back on the TV a little.

Burt winked.

BURT: The rest is accurate. But there’s slim chance you go that long without power. Unless the sun goes out. Or it’s blocked in a nuclear holocaust. There’s enough solar film in the vault to last a few lifetimes. Now the inverters…that’s where your problem will be. I was only able to get one installed in that daisy chain configuration and one spare.
CECIL: How long should that last?
BURT: Twenty years. Give or take. 
CECIL: That’ll have to do. I’m scared to ask what this whole setup cost.
BURT: Money was no object? That’s what you said,
CECIL: I still hate a bad deal. I know Justice Iota charges a premium.
BURT: Believe me, the security and peace of mind you have with this place is priceless.

Cecil furrowed his brow and pursed his lips.

BURT: Just under $300,000 for all of the equipment and supplies.

A barely audible gasp slipped passed.

CECIL: Steep. Thought you were going to try and keep it under two.

Burt knew he went overboard. Every good prepper knows to go overboard when he can afford it.

BURT: Every contingency planned for? I think you did pretty well for yourself. I did well for you. Half a mil for your own private mini kingdom?CECIL: A kingdom has subjects.

It seemed as though Cecil was not completely accepting of a possibility of a life of solitude.

Burt helped Cecil up onto the couch and handed him a compartmentalized plate with some runny eggs and some uber ripe berries. Cecil was starving. He could have eaten anything at that point. A steaming plate of cow dung would have hit the spot just then. He dug in.

BURT: Glad you like it.

Cecil swallowed his generous first bite and resumed the transfer of working knowledge.

CECIL: Tell me about the terrain.

BURT: It’s prime real estate. You’re in a good spot. Real good.

Cecil was not amused. He hated having to pry every last detail out of someone.

CECIL: Well isn’t that nice? Is there anything else you’d care to share?

Burt thought about it for a moment.

BURT: I’d rather show you.
CECIL: I think you’d better.
BURT: Yeah, well. I’ll suppose you want the grand tour. Up for some walking?
CECIL: Yeah.

Cecil set his plate aside and mustered his strength in an attempt make it to his feet. There wasn’t much left in the reserve tanks to even take a step forward. Back down to the couch. They weren’t going anywhere.

BURT: Tell you what. Seeing as I’m sure you’re probably itching for me to get on out of here, I’ll just grab the map and point it all out.

Cecil grimaced and nodded. He appreciated the empathy. Cecil hated being at a disadvantage, and with his injury and unfamiliarity with the lay of the land, he was not in the best position.

BURT: As you know, we started with the twenty seven acres…
CECIL: Started?
BURT: Right. Since you’ve been gone, earlier this year, the adjoining property went up for sale, well, a fire-sale really…you got it for cheap.

Cecil raised that eyebrow.

BURT: Not you literally. The holding company. I filed everything just like you said. All of the equipment too.

Eyebrow dropped.

CECIL: How much did we get?

Burt smiled and licked his back teeth. The leaf mashing ones.

CECIL: Please.

Burt could see Cecil was not in the mood.

BURT: Another one hundred and eighty.

Cecil almost let himself smirk as he laid back into the couch.

CECIL: The main spring to the north?
BURT: Yep.
CECIL: The ridge?
BURT: Oh, yeah. Cavern system too. Well, that creeps into other people’s property, but I doubt anyone has done any real exploration. Not with the natural gas moratorium.

Cecil wasn’t thrilled with the notion that the underground may be compromised.

CECIL: But you went down?
BURT: Sure did. Took Gunshy down with me. It’s a bit creepy after the immediate vault, but someone was down there at some point in humanity.
CECIL: How do you know?
BURT: I found a food wrapper of some sort. I looked it up, discontinued about forty-five years ago, so I don’t think it’s a huge risk. You can block off the only opening to your section if you want.

Cecil nodded.

CECIL: What other food is there? Besides the chicken and eggs. What kind of berries were those?

BURT: Blackberry. Rasberry. Strawberry. Dewberry. Over time you can probably get some loganberries and boysenberries. More than enough fruit trees outside. Cherry. Apple. Pear. Even to get you through winter if you preserve them right. If you’re looking for something a little more exotic, I’ve got quite the indoor garden going. You’d never see the green house. Even from the air.

CECIL: Are the chickens the only meat?

BURT: You probably don’t want to eat them right away. Not until the population is up. The eggs are good protein.

CECIL: So is there anything else?

Cecil longed for the days of sixty dollar porterhouses and a cold Pilsner.

BURT: I’ve fenced in the majority of the property. Rest is secure by natural barrier. I don’t care for the meats, but I’ve definitely seen some wild hog, turkey, mountain goats, the occasional geese. Plenty out there if you’re willing to go get it. The wolves have no problem. Also some decent size trout and rockfish in the river that runs along the property. I’ve been breeding tilapia, but they’re a work in progress.

CECIL: I assume there’s plenty of tools for the hunt?

Cecil fancied Burt a bit of a gun nut. A connoisseur.

BURT: If you’re looking to hunt, I’d recommend a bow and arrow…as to not draw attention to yourself. This is some secluded area, but there is a small trailer park community to the east. Looks like they’re living in some real squalor. I doubt the authorities come through for anything. Almost certain I saw a child selling herself at the third fork off the road into town. Mom or older sister was sitting there, too. Must be supervising.

Cecil felt a tinge of despair in his stomach at the thought.

BURT: As far as I can tell, those are the only souls for about twenty, twenty five miles.

Not the most generous buffer, but it would have to do. The trailer community sounded mostly benign.

CECIL: Noted. But what about the heavy stuff? For protection. I left a list…

BURT: Brother, what do you think kept me sane these couple years. That chore right there, now that was my life. My favorite pastime. I got your list; Plus a little extra.

That’s the Burt that Cecil remembered.

CECIL: And the paper trail? I had heard that things were tightening up after all of those kids were slaughtered at that school.
BURT: Nah. NRA squashed all that bullshit.

Stricter controls on private firearm sales in the wake of the mass murder of twenty nine elementary school children is bullshit? Cecil’s blood started to boil.

BURT: Always at a gun show. Always cash. No ID required.

The founding fathers should be so proud.

BURT: I’ve got this beard and these sunglasses. I looked like XY Topp or a Jew preacher or something.

Cecil could only imagine how many ATF agents got a good look at that clown.

CECIL: If what you say is true, you were worth every penny.

Burt pounced on the opportunity to talk finance.

BURT: Glad you brought up money. The money’s been good, Cecil. The money’s been good, but you promised me the big payday the second I’ve seen you. Well, I’ve seen you for a good while now, and I didn’t say nothing, on account of the condition you showed up in and all. But now that you’re up and about I want to know. Do you have my money?

Cecil was mildly surprised Burt contained himself that long.

CECIL: You’ll get your money.
BURT: I’d love to believe you. I really would. But you’ve never been one to play games on a deal, which leads me to believe, you may have put yourself in a position where you can’t follow through. Bit off more than you could chew. You never said why you stumbled in all bloodied and battered. Is someone after you?
CECIL: Did you just hear me?

Burt kept the pressure on.

BURT: It looks like you’re traveling pretty light there, Cecil. Where could you possibly put that much money? If it’s where I think it is, we’re going to have a serious problem.

Never a poor time for toilet humor, apparently.

CECIL: How the hell could I carry that much money around without being noticed? I left it at the airport I came in to.
BURT: Left it at the airport?

Burt was clearly skeptical.

CECIL: Yes. It’s in a dufflebag. It was too bulky and risky to keep with me while I made my way here. 
BURT: So it’s just sitting in the airport? 
CECIL: Not out in the open. It’s in a locker.
BURT: So where’s the key?
CECIL: It was combination.
BURT: Combination, huh?
CECIL: Right. We can go there tomorrow. First thing in the morning.

Burt sat back in his chair and slapped both knees with resignation. Resignation that slipped into spite.

BURT: It seems as though you’ve been going to extraordinary lengths to keep this place off the radar. Probably cost a good bit of money to set up those shell companies to keep your distance and keep the locals from snooping around. You don’t want to come up short on the home stretch do you?

Cecil evaluated the risk premium for a moment.

CECIL: My timing got fucked in a sticky situation. You’ll get your money. I just need you to trust me tonight.

He had an ace up his sleeve.

CECIL: I’ve got something that’ll help you sleep better.

Cecil reached into his boot purse and pulled out a massive wad of loot. He then waved it in the air as though a moment of fresh air could dehumidify three days of walking foot sweat. He then tossed it to Burt.

CECIL: That’s yours. As a bonus. Just trust me for a few more hours. You’ve already trusted me two years now. What’s one more night?

Burt looked down at the bundle and shook his head.

CECIL: Count it.

Burt obliged and began to thumb through.

BURT: Eight thousand.

Burt cackled in delight. as he smacked the cash against his open palm.

BURT: Now this I like. It stinks to high heaven, but I dig. Why didn’t you lead with this? I would’ve given you the potent pain meds.

Burt reached towards the table and sprung a hidden drawer from within the coffee table. Burt extended his hand.

BURT: Take one of these. That cut looks gnarly.

Cecil didn’t need to lose control of his facilities at a pivotal time.

CECIL: No, I’m fine. I can manage.

Burt shrugged.

BURT: Suit yourself.

Burt removed a couple of the white pills and popped them into his own mouth.

BURT: Since I’m staying the night.

That’s always what set Cecil apart from the masses. He had the utmost restraint. He would always be able to outlast the competition. He never blinked first. He never let his guard down. Even his friends were out to get him. Keep pumping.

CECIL: So you really haven’t seen another soul in two years?

Burt sunk back into his chair.

BURT: No sir. No one other that Gunshy. It’s been trying at times, but I’ve managed.

Cecil scanned Burt’s face for sincerity. If anyone else knew about this location, he was done for. Cecil continued his due diligence.

CECIL: How did you manage?
BURT: Mostly listening to the radio. A couple one-way satellite internet lanterns kept me up to date on local affairs. Oh, before I left, I had my brother fill a hard drive up with some TV shows and movies. I also got an air-gapped computer to play it on, so don’t worry about your security system. That has never once been compromised.

Cecil winced at the risk Burt had taken on in the name of entertainment.

BURT: Other than that, but some good old fashioned discipline. 
CECIL: Discipline, indeed. Has the system ever turned up anyone on the property?

Burt hesitated. Cecil seemed like the anal type. Like one hair out of place would queer the deal.

BURT: There was a time. One time. I’m thinking they were searching for a girl…

Cecil hated the omission of pertinent details. It seemed as dishonest as a flat out lie.

CECIL: They?
BURT: The cameras didn’t catch anyone. Only the motion detectors at the very edge of the property. Judging by the news stories coming out of the area at that time frame, I’d assume it was the county sheriff’s office looking for a local girl that went missing not far from here.
CECIL: Did they get a whiff of this place?
BURT: Nah. I just picked them up walking through the northwest part of the property.

Cecil rubbed his eyes with his thumb and index finger. He was so tired. And irritated. He’d been irritated to the max for three days at that point.

CECIL: Did they find her?

Burt was getting lost in the ceiling pattern. He sure would miss it. Trippy.

BURT: Who?
CECIL: The girl.

Burt wasn’t a reflective man. He usually would say something close to his original thought. This time, Cecil could see the gears turning.

BURT: You know, I don’t think they did. Nothing on the radio about her at least. Kid could have slipped and fell off the side of any of these slick cliffs. That was about four months ago. Anyway, like I said, it was that one time. Hasn’t been any movement before or since.

CECIL: How unfortunate.

Burt dropped his head, then nodded.

BURT: You need to watch your step yourself. It’s as secluded as you get out here. Trust me.

Trust. Trust was an unfathomable concept to Cecil. Not after what had happened.

CECIL: I think I’m feeling a bit better. Would you show me around in here? I could really hit the head right about now.

Burt had just gotten comfortable and uprooting didn’t sound groovy, but he obliged none the less.

BURT: Yeah, sure. Follow me.

Gunshy jumped back to life to joined the tour.

CECIL: Is this dog going to be up my ass the whole time? I can barely walk without him right under me.

Burt turned around and snapped his fingers.

BURT: Gunshy! Bed. Now.

Gunshy let out a small whine and pawed at the air before retreating to his quarters in one of the other rooms.

The main house in the compound wasn’t terrible large or extravagant; hence the tour was far from grand. Cecil was familiar with the livingroom and kitchen area from his convalescence, but right passed that was the restroom he had been seeking. After the much needed stop there, you had the first bedroom that Burt and Gunshy were sharing, and then the second bedroom, which was nearly identical. Just off of the kitchen were a set of stairs that led to the lower level. The lower level was half recreation area, complete with a large television and home gym, and half storage for equipment and food.

Cecil was impressed. He poked and prodded at every little detail, but came up reassured every time. The whole project had really come together. In particular, he appreciated the size of the walk in freezer in the basement. It would be a valuable tool.

Both he and Burt had found themselves inside, in demonstration of the ample space for freezing even the largest of mammals. Burt’s logic, however faulty, maintained that if he could fit inside, a full winter’s supply of meat could as well. Cecil would certainly be able to go long periods of time without having to hunt, obviously a benefit. He always did enjoy a good hunt, but a trap would have to do.

CECIL: I’ve got to hand it to you, Burt. You’ve done excellent work here.

It was probably the cold making his cheeks rosey, but Burt began to beam with pride. Cecil wrapped his arms around himself and made his way out to warmer pastures. Burt followed close, shutting the large stainless steel door behind them and flicking the light switch off.

BURT: It’s been a pleasure. I’ll have to get my own little paradise together someday here soon. Shit’s gone so far downhill with that fascist in office, I’d feel a lot better if I had a place to fall back on. I might have to invest this big payday into a place to bug out.

Cecil stopped and turned around to face Burt, seemingly not acknowledging his tirades or daydreams.

CECIL: Hey. Did I see something labeled “venison” in there?

Burt nodded.

BURT: Sharp eye. Gunshy wasn’t too keen on the soy and corn mash I was feeding him, so I took a couple deer for him. Felt real bad about it, but Gunshy doesn’t exactly share my moral objections.
CECIL: Is it good enough for people?
BURT: Sure. It’s just ground.

Cecil’s mouth began to water.

CECIL: Do you think you could spare some this evening? It’s one of my favorite 
BURT: Ok. You and Gunshy can share. I can do burgers or tacos.
CECIL: Either sounds great.

Cecil rubbed his stomach to signal his approval. Burt grinned and turned to retrieve the game., leaving the freezer door wide open behind him.

Cecil didn’t have a moment to second guess himself. His blood was used to running cold, but every misdeed in the past was mostly within the letter of the law. He had to act quickly. There was no time to debate whether or not it was the most humane way.

Cecil lunged towards the door, slamming it shut with all his weight. He then reached for a long metal wrench sitting on a heavy duty, possibly solid oak shelf to the left of the freezer door, threading it through the door handle and behind the shelf. Poor Burt let his guard down, and didn’t know what hit him.

BURT: NO! No. No. No. No. No.

Burt was definitely the larger man, and in much better shape than a disheveled Cecil. He charged the door with his shoulder, with enough force to jar it open a centimeter or two. The oak like shelf lurched forward a tick, but was stopped from toppling over by a convex portion of the adjacent wall. Mostly likely to enclose some plumbing or exhaust.

BURT: Oh no you didn’t. Oh, HELL, nah you didn’t,

Cecil began to back away slowly, monitoring the integrity of the makeshift prison under the frantic knocking.

BURT: What the hell is this? Cecil! What’s going on?

Cecil slumped down to a seat on the bottom stair, catching his breath.

BURT: Open this goddamn door.

No response.

BURT: Cecil! What the fuck. You can’t joke like this!

Burt kicked the door with force. Once. Twice. Three Times. Seemingly countless times. The girth of the solid wood shelving unit and wall reinforcement seemed to be holding up to anything an above average strengthened human could throw at it.

BURT: Real fucking funny. It’s cold as shit in here. You’re hilarious. I’ll hand it to you.

By all accounts, Cecil’s personality was an acquired taste, and he had never been referred to as “hilarious”. Respectable. Dependable. Imposing, yet not overtly aggressive. Unsung hero. Never the prankster.

BURT: Please?

A tightening of the stomach alerted Cecil that he was reaching the point of no return. Maybe he could play the huckster, passing the whole unfortunate thing off as an ill-timed joke. The long, disorienting trek through the woods had Cecil clearly not thinking straight.

BURT: You want that eight thousand back? That’s it right?

It wasn’t the money. Well, the money was most definitely a problem. Cecil didn’t have it. Not the amount he owed ol’ Burt for his loyal services, anyway. He had to flee Reykjavik with barely the clothes on his back; his accounts almost certainly seized by then. That eight thousand dollar bluff was a parting gift from Ryandik to get Cecil to where he was going in the States.

BURT: Done. Take it.

Ryandik had shown such compassion, such regard for humanity in risking his own skin to give Cecil safe passage. Such humanity that was not payed forward. That lineage of generosity died with Cecil.

BURT: Cecil. Please. Just let me out. I’ll walk out of here; you’ll never see me again. I won’t tell a soul about this place or anything. Honest. No payment required. Forget the money. Forget it all.

It wasn’t personal. Cecil didn’t feel malice. Burt was ultimately just a loose end. A small, easily forgotten piece of a larger production. Cecil wouldn’t be able to sleep at night knowing another vulnerable soul knew exactly where he was. Especially someone who was stiffed out of a couple hundred grand. Yep, the Basil Boys would be able to sniff Burt out in a heartbeat, and they’d be able to extract whatever they wanted out of him, assuming he wasn’t already willing to spill the information out of spite. Those boys usually got whatever they wanted with a simple payoff, but sometimes, sometimes it would require a more intensive persuasion.

BURT: Are you out there, man?

The tremble in Burt’s voice turned to an embryonic sob.

BURT: Please, let me out of here, Cecil. Cecil. God. I don’t deserve this. I did you right here. I set you up so good, Cecil. Don’t do this to me.

Cecil had moderate success blocking out the pleas for life with an internal debate over whether or not he should keep the freezer lights off or turn them on. Is it better to die cold and alone in the dark? Or should he show Burt the light? Which would Cecil prefer for himself?

BURT: Cecil. For the love of God, don’t do this to me.

Cecil couldn’t listen to it any more. He limped back up the stairs.