8/4 p2

11:40pm

Somebody upstairs must love us.

When I told Jimmy and the old man about my grand idea, I was surprised to find that Dave was the one to turn green. Never had him pegged as afraid of heights. Honestly, never had him pegged as afraid of anything in particular.

They were both wary, but Dead Ed kept on banging, and that constant beat filled in every pause of our conversation. Made a more convincing argument than I ever could. James kept glancing at the floor, as if he was worried a clawed hand would shoot up from the threadbare carpet, like in the horror flicks. “Haven’t much choice, do we, anyway?” He asked, more to himself than either of us.

It was decided. We packed up the stairs to the top floor, carefully locking every door behind us. Sometimes Ed gets confused by all the closed doors and busts each one open, one at a time, especially if he can’t hear your direction. Makes him aimless.

When we got to the top floor of rooms, James and I dragged some of the shapeless mattresses to the roof. Dave was busy talking himself into how this was a great idea. The man sure seems crazier when he’s in the middle of a heated argument- with himself- but I didn’t let that worry me. The crash of the bottom stairwell door breaking gave me enough to worry about. Ed finally made matchsticks of our last defence. Time to get a move on.

James had by them positioned the heap of mattresses about two feet from the edge. I lugged the ladder over and set it’s base down, using the mattresses as a backstop. I extended the ladder to it’s tallest and, hands sweaty with worry and fear, began to lay it as gently as I could across the open chasm between us and our neighboring building. As the ladder began to feel it’s own weight, I pulled against it, working to keep it from gaining momentum and slipping out of control. Of course, my sweat drenched palms didn’t help that process at all, and my caution was useless.

The good news is that the ladder was only about four feet from the edge of the of the other building, and didn’t bounce off the law office and into the alley. That would’ve been our death knell. The bad news is that it fell four feet, clattering like monkey cymbals, calling to every moaner’s attention that, yes, there are still living sacks of meat in the area, and yes, they’ve conveniently announced their location to you and all of your other rotting pals.

James was the first onto the ladder. He’s the lightest, and Dave had pointed out that the thing wouldn’t be stable until someone was holding it on the other side. You could tell Jimmy was scared as a cat in the dog kennel, but he put one hand ahead of the other. Dave cringed away as he slowly, so slowly moved across. The aluminum groaned ominously as Mr. Matteson scampered across on hands and knees, but held until he reached the other side.

The old man had absolutely no desire to make the crossing, which is why we decided he should go second. Second place, in this situation, was better than first or last. With one of us on either side keeping it steady, the middle monkey would get the most stable trip. I took the shotgun from him, and we moved as much of the food and molotovs from his rucksack into mine. The climb would be difficult and dangerous enough with an injured arm. With a fully loaded pack, it was just suicide by another name.

Dave was praying to Jesus by then, telling the good Lord he’d get right with him and didn’t want to get eaten. Lot of swearing too, but I doubt God cares. One booted foot went onto the bottom rung, then his right hand on another. Slowly, he shrugged his arm out of the sling, and gently put pressure on it.

I could almost feel his pain, by all the grunts and squelched screams that vented through his clenched teeth. The muscles in his neck tensed up each time he made another move with his wounded arm, painfully articulating the agony he was in. About halfway through, it gave. He landed flat on his face, cheek burying into one of the metal rungs of the ladder. It swayed dangerously then, threatening to flip onto it’s side and leave the vet hanging as if on a monkey ladder. I dropped to my knees and laid hands on the bottom rungs, trying to use my weight to keep it from tipping.