“It means we’re a team,” James said.
Thomas broke his stride, stopping to glare at him. “You better promise me more than that.”
“Alright…” James looked him in the eye. He deflated right there as he stood, letting out a long breath of air. “I’ll follow your lead from here on out.”
“We’ll see.” Thomas stepped off again. “If things don’t change, tomorrow you’ll be sitting on the sidelines of this operation.”
All James could manage was to keep his head down and his mouth shut.
Finally.
They crested the hill—an echo of laughter alerted them to the presence of others. Thomas drew his pistol and broke for a row of hedges on the cool side of a large church that overlooked the corner. James, in his newfound obedience, hustled over and crouched down beside him.
Thomas took out his binoculars, holding his pistol between his legs as he knelt, and took a cursory scan of what might be awaiting them. A man pulled a child’s wagon down the street as he chatted loudly with another, both of them seemingly unaware of the fact they were being watched. What the hell? How can these people act out in the open like this? They’re probably not a threat. “When they get out of view we’ll head across the street to that building there.”
“We could set up on the roof and get some good Intel on the park,” James offered.
Thomas nodded, his mind drawn to discovering what had grabbed the two men’s attention as they were now turned, watching another man run toward them—the newcomer yelling, “Hey! Wait up, fellas!” The three of them came together, and a conversation picked up, but what was being said stayed beyond earshot.
It didn’t take long before they began showing off what little they had. A few trades of mostly books and a few cans of food took place between the men. There appeared to be a brief disagreement that dissolved quickly—one of them revealed a pistol hidden within his waistband. That display put an end to the festivities, but no violence erupted, not even a raised voice. What the…?
The man with the gun watched the others intently until they disappeared around the corner. He removed the pistol from under his shirt, took a furtive look around, and ditched it inside a bush. From there, he cut up some stairs that bent their way around the courtyard of the college and toward Burnet Woods.
His actions were those of a guilty man trying to cover up a crime that, from what Thomas saw, never occurred. Places like these were assumed to be a free-for-all, especially this far from Second Alliance occupied territory. Not that it would’ve been right, but that man could have taken all the stuff from their wagon. Perhaps some presence prohibited that sort of action? Is this some kind of neutral zone? Who could enforce something like that? The Butcher?
Thomas and James waited a good ten minutes to ensure the area was clear, then made their move across the street. Before following the man’s path up the stairs, James shook through the bush, eventually finding what he sought and tucked it away into his rucksack. “Why would he ditch it you think?”
“Probably not allowed to have it wherever he’s going,” Thomas said from half-way up the flight of stairs. “Right now we need to figure out how we get on this roof.” They crept up the remaining steps and found themselves overlooking the courtyard at the rear of the college.
“Didn’t you go here?” James asked.
“Yep, for three years I smoked back here in this courtyard. They wouldn’t give us an ash can back here, so we used to just flick them up on the roof over there.” He pointed to where the roofline dropped down. “The maintenance guys would get blamed for it though, because they’d be the ones up there actually smoking all the time.”
“How’d they get up there?”
“There’s a hatch, but it’s nothing that’s going to help us from down here.”
Thomas could tell James was thinking, working to redeem himself with a plan to get up on that roof. His eyes surveyed the roofline, his eyebrows knitted with thought. “There’s where we go up.” James smiled. “It’ll take a little bit of doing, but…” He padded through the overgrown grass, bedding down trails from the sidewalk to the building as he paced.
Great lengths of ivy scaled the retaining wall and had made the transition to the gray stucco that covered most of the college. James pulled a few vines from the wall and cast them into the planter beds ten feet below. It was here, where the retaining wall met the building, that the roofline dropped low enough they’d be able to grab hold and pull themselves up.
“This’ll work.” James removed his equipment, took a deep breath and squatted down, settling his back against the brick wall. “Come on. Let’s get you up there.”
“Seriously? What about the shoulder?” Thomas eyed him.
“It’s good.” James interlocked his fingers and nodded to Thomas. “Seriously, now or never, man.”
“Hold on a sec.” Thomas set his rifle against the building then slipped the ruck from his shoulders. He took pause. “Get a little closer.”
James edged his foot closer to the drop-off. “That’s as much as I’m going to get.”
Thomas placed his hands against the building to steady himself and set his foot within James’s cradled hands. “You sure you got this, man?” He applied some pressure from his enormous boot.
James nodded.
“Here we go.”
Thomas let the full weight of his body into James’s hands. There was an immediate grunt, but he held strong—Thomas doing everything he could to grab hold of the roof’s edge, to help alleviate this burden from James. “Only a little more.” He could feel James’s strength wavering as he worked to straighten his legs—Thomas’s foot swayed. A few more grunts of agony slipped out.
“Almost!” James’s back and legs were almost completely straight.
Thomas could feel the concrete, finally curling his fingers around the ledge. “Got it! Just a bit more.”
“Jesus, man!” A deep breath and James gave him one last exhausted push. “You’re heavy as shit.”
Thomas finally brought his leg over the top and planted his feet firmly on the roof. He looked down over the edge to his partner—James leaned against the wall, hunched over, his palms cupping his knees as he worked to catch his breath.
“Pass the rifles up.” Thomas motioned with his hand.
James raised a finger. “One second,” he puffed while untwisting the bandage wrapping his wounded shoulder. “See, it’s all good.”
Thomas took a breath for himself. “Just let me know when you’re ready. Rifles and packs, then you.”
James chuckled while he shook his head. “You never stop, huh?”
“Can’t afford to waste any more time.” Thomas took a few steps in, gazing out across the tops of the trees beyond the far end of the roof. “So close now, we got to get this done.”
“Here we go.”
Thomas peered back over the edge to James.
“I’m gonna toss these up,” James said while swinging the rifles toward the roof, anticipating the okay.
“Just hand them up.” Thomas lay on his stomach and inched himself over the edge. He tucked his knees into the ledge. The concrete dug into his hip bones as most his torso hung suspended from the top. “Okay, I’m good,” he said, as his hand reached as far as he could manage.
“Here.” James lifted each rifle.
“Rucksacks?”
They too were passed up.
“You’re next.” Thomas took a large breath in, exhaled, and then clapped his hands together. “Shoulder okay?”
“No doubt.” James took several steps back from the building and bounced on the balls of his feet a few times. He bent down, peeling a long, single blade of grass from the trail. Smiling, he dropped it—not a flutter, it just fell. “Good. No wind.”