“Well, they’re not really. They’re just really strong, supposed to make you feel like a zombie.” “Maybe we should just move on to the whole ladder thing,” BT said, grabbing it from my hands.
“Mike, no,” Tracy entreated me.
“Need some help?” Gary asked.
“Are all you Talbots insane?” Tracy asked.
“I’m not a Talbot,” BT said indignantly.
“Oh, that makes it all better then!” Tracy yelled at him.
BT shrugged his shoulders and went back to his climb. I followed close behind.
Gary stayed down as the ladder began to dip under the added weight of BT and myself. In fairness, the downward slant of the ladder had more to do with BT’s bulk than my own, although I’d never tell him that.
“What’s the plan?” BT asked once we reached the top.
“You know how I feel about plans.”
“Okay, what’s your idea then?”
“Well, let’s extend this bad boy as far as it will go, straight up, and then we’ll try to do a controlled fall so that it hits the roof.” “And if it doesn’t?”
“Then make sure you let it go before it falls into the crowd.”
“Seems sane enough.”
“Yeah, most of my ideas start off with great expectations, only to decay rapidly into…”
“Devastation,” BT concluded.
“Well, I wasn’t going to go that far, but whatever. Let’s do this.”
By the time we had the ladder fully extended, it looked about as sturdy as a pipe cleaner. The swaying of the main ladder and the resultant swinging of the one we were holding had my confidence ebbing faster than Superman’s libido after putting on a kryptonite condom, that is providing of course that such a thing can be made. But IF it could be, it would be disastrous for him, and I guess Lois too.
“This seems safe,” BT said as he tried to keep his footing while also steadying the ladder.
“You guys ready?” I yelled to Paul.
“What the hell do you want us to do?” Mrs. Deneaux shouted.
“Catch it!” I yelled back.
“Yeah, preferably with your face,” BT muttered for my ears only.
“Good one, let’s let it go.”
It fell faster than I was expecting. The good news though was that we had about a foot and a half to spare as it slammed onto the roof. Our end kicked up a good foot from the shock of the contact. It missed me completely but caught BT squarely on the shin. It wasn’t an injurious hit, but it had enough force to make him lose his balance. BT began to pinwheel his arms. I could hear the horrified cries from above and below as I reached out and grabbed the waist line of his pants. There was a shockingly long second where I thought we were both going over. BT wasn’t a piece of equipment and I was not going to let him go.
We were frozen between absolute death and relative safety. A butterfly landing on BT’s shoulder would have been enough to tip the scales. As it was, there was a slight breeze to my face that I think God issued just for us. The death détente was shattered by minutiae; the forces I applied pulled us back from the literal edge.
“Whew,” BT said as he sat down, placing a tight grip on the ladder he sat on. “That was close.” I didn’t say anything. I probably would have just vomited anyway. And that really would have just killed the heroic moment I was hoping to bask in for another minute or two while I got my heart rate under control.
“Mike, I can’t…”
“Don’t,” I said putting my hand up. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
BT remained seated while he secured the ladder with some tie downs and a few bungee cords. “I don’t think this would stand up to a regulatory inspection.” The whole assembly was bouncing around like Mexican jumping beans high on cocaine.
I eyed the climb as I psyched myself up.
“What are you doing?” BT said ominously, placing massive arm across my chest.
“Getting an ice cream cone. What the hell does it look like I’m doing?” I asked him.
“I’ll go first,” he said.
“BT, come on man, this won’t hold you.”
“So was that how you planned on getting rid of me? You all go up there and then I’m stuck down here by myself.” “I hadn’t really planned it out,” I told him honestly.
“Listen, this makes the most sense, IF this holds me then there’s no doubt it will hold everybody else.” I started to protest.
“Shut up Mike, I know you’re the Type A personality with control issues and a hero complex, but I’m doing this. It makes the most sense and now once afriggen -gain, I owe you,” “We’re not keeping score, BT.”
“Maybe you aren’t, but I am. Just make sure your end doesn’t come undone,”
“Fine, your funeral…oh man, I didn’t mean that… that was a poor choice of words,”
“Actually it wasn’t, just poor timing. Stop looking like you just swallowed a mouse, it’s alright my friend.” He fist bumped me and started up.
Paul and Alex each grabbed their respective ends of the ladder to keep it from shifting around too much, which was not an easy task with BT’s weight. The real problem began to arise as BT was halfway through his climb, the bow in the ladder began to pull precious inches of aluminum from its perch on the roof. The eighteen inches he had started with had rapidly been reduced to less than two .
BT had not raised his head during the entire expedition, wise move. I don’t think I would have either. He just stayed focused on the task at hand, hand to rung, foot to rung.
“Stop, BT,” Paul said.
“I’d rather not.” Although he did.
I had been so intent on watching BT, I did not realize the drama happening up above. I looked up to Paul and instantly saw the issue.
“Foh!” I said.
“What, Mike?” BT asked without looking.
“I said that out loud? Apparently it’s Shakespearean.” “Mike!” BT roared.
“Sorry man, your weight is pulling the skids of the ladder off the roof.”
“How much more of a climb do I have?”
“Fifteen feet,” I gauged.
“How much of the ladder is still on the roof?”
I looked up to Paul, he held up two fingers.
“Two inches,” I told him, my heart sinking.
“Am I over halfway?”
“I’d say you’re just about dead center,”
“What is it with you and bad word choices?” he asked.
“Huh? Oh man, I’m sorry,” I said again.
“In for a dime, in for a dollar,” as he reengaged his movements.
A third person who I had not seen previously came to the aid of Paul and Alex by getting in between them and reaching down to grab the top rung. I think that may have been what saved BT’s ass. Looks like he was going to owe someone else big time. He was soooo not going to be happy about this.
“Ten feet BT!” I shouted.
“How much?” he asked in return.
I once again looked to Paul. He let go his hold with one hand to raise all his fingers.
“Five inches! That’s awesome!” I said with jubilation.
“Maybe where you come from,” BT said.
“Did he just make a dick joke?” Alex asked.
“I’ll explain it to you later,” I heard clearly from Mrs. Deneaux.
“Just get your ass on that roof,” I told him. “Five feet, and no, I’m not telling you how many inches so that you can tell me ‘That’s more like it,’” I said, trying to do a reasonable facsimile of BT’s deep voice.
“Don’t quit your day job,” BT growled as the new guy grabbed a fair amount of BT’s shirt and pulled.
Considering that my day job consisted primarily of killing zombies, I didn’t think that was going to be a problem.
I rested heavily once BT got his ass up and over the wall. I knew BT far outweighed everybody still on this side, but how in the hell was I going to be able to sit here and watch eight more people cross this suicidal bridge?