by Doug Ward
My friends rose unsteadily to see what was wrong, Ned wobbling slightly and Amber using the low wall to help her gain some sense of balance. Both looked alarmed.
"What is it?" asked Ned, gaze locked on the door. He had his section of the cubical support in one hand and was pulling Amber to her feet with the other.
"The door is coming loose," I answered, not disclosing my possible part in the problem.
Amber nearly dropped to the roof again. If Ned hadn't shot a quick arm around her waist, she surely would have fallen.
"We're going to die up here!" she sobbed onto his shoulder as she turned into his embrace, shoulders pumping with each new breath.
After a few moments of reassuring the young woman, he broke their embrace and silently crept closer to the secured door. He went as close as he dared, then just as quietly returned to us.
"They seem to have settled down again," he breathed in relief. "I think it is going to be ok. What happened?"
"The whole door was moving," I explained. "It looked like it was coming loose."
"That's impossible! It's made of steel." Amber argued, wiping tears from her eyes.
I shook my head in disagreement. "It was coming loose from its moorings. The whole frame was wiggling."
Ned lowered his head in defeat. "What do you think we should do?"
"We need to step up my plan. We need to get off of this roof."
Because the tarp held our only source of water, we drank as much as we could hold, each taking turns plunging heads into the pool of tar-tainted liquid and guzzling huge amounts. The oily water made our stomachs turn, but it was our last, so we continued to gulp until we could drink no more.
Amber spilled what remained on to the pebbled surface of the roof. The pool spread into a large circle, darkening the area. Looking at the quickly evaporating stain, I knew we were now totally committed to our escape.
We then set about the task of cutting the tarp into strips. Gauging the distance as close as we could, Ned cut through the plastic as evenly as was possible. Each strip was carefully knotted to assure a safe descent.
When the makeshift rope was complete, we stretched it out along the low wall and measured it.
"By my best guess, I think we are about ten feet short," Ned reported.
Amber's eyes opened wide, "What are we going to do now?"
Looking about, my eyes fell on Ned's suit jacket, discarded to one side. "Amber, take off your jacket," I answered, stripping off my own. I retrieved my almost empty inhaler and stuffed it into the waistband of my skirt.
We secured the three pieces of clothing to the bottom of the line. "That should do it!" I said, letting the now complete rope fall to the roof’s surface. "We just need a place to secure it."
As we were walking around the perimeter of the building, I heard what sounded like tires on the pavement below.
Chapter 20
Henry
