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yours truly would go down on the second wave. B.C. would come last. |
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While Madden tested the lines, I gave the old house one long, last E.G. Wages visual search. It was a drill in futility. The fog and darkness were doing their best to conceal whatever minor concession the old place was willing to make. |
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Madden was systematically laced into the makeshift harness. Brenda helped Gregory loop the lines through the D rings and snapped the gear at both locations on the tool belt. The lines were laced back through the fore and aft pulleys, and the knotted end, along with the gloves, were handed to me. |
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"You're the dead man on the first descent," Gregory said evenly. |
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"Can't you find something else to call it?" I said dryly. |
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Gregory looked at me with a blank expression. Another futile attempt at dark humor for naught. |
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I wrapped the line around my waist twice, knotted it, curled my hands into the leather gloves and backed away from the precipice. Madden was already lying on his stomach, inching his feet cautiously out over the edge. |
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Even in the chill gray darkness, their faces were easy to read. Madden and Gregory mirrored a kind of grim determination; Kelto was more a look of apprehen- |
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