Walk the final leg of the journey.

Jessica leaned over, wincing as her still sore hips complained, and gingerly picked up her moltav cocktail and the lighter. Miraculously the bomb had survived.
Putting her experience behind her, she moved forward.

As she came to the final staircase a man in sweaty clothes and a pitchfork and torch could be seen at the top of the staircase. She shivered, the angle and his hat hid his eyes and face from her. Uncertain of the man's intentions, Jessica wondered what she should do, the cocktail providing a comforting weight in her hands.