Роберт Уилсон - Days Since... - Thomas - Day 758

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.”

“Yeah, cause that’s the difference.” Thomas moved just slightly further over the edge with both hands waiting for James to make his move. “Ready?” Thomas clapped his hands together again.

“Yep.” One last bounce and James rushed toward the wall, leapt for Thomas’s hands, scraping the ivy from the building with his boots. Their hands clasped. The two strained—Thomas inched back from the ledge as he pulled James with him. James’s feet continued chopping at the wall. “Come on!” Bit by bit, they grunted through the stress until both of them finally lay in the gravel. “Hell yeah, man.”

Thomas shifted to one knee and grabbed his gear. “Stay low. We’ll move between those A/C units.

James nodded, picked up his rifle and pack then followed Thomas toward the north side of the building. They quietly made their way across the roof, picking spots in between the rocks where the lining was exposed. They settled into position—James watching the rear while Thomas glassed over the southern portion of the densely wooded park.

A small barricade stretched across the service road that led into the park. Two guards, both armed with rifles, held post there. One stayed partially hidden between the wood and flimsy metal. The other patrolled the space in front of the barricade between the sidewalks.

As Thomas took the binoculars along the road, he spotted a rover dressed casually—jeans and a t-shirt—holding his own rifle while he marched along his route. Thomas tapped James on the shoulder and whispered, “Three. All armed with long guns. None of them appear scoped.” He scratched the details in his notepad as he said it. “We should be okay up here.”

“Is it the Butcher’s men?” James scooted toward Thomas and took his own binoculars across the park.

“It’s got to be, right? Who else would be out there?” Thomas continued to eye them, focusing more often on the rover—noting that his patrol ended toward the intersection with the boulevard that separated the woods from the campus. He stood for a moment in the shade of several trees, watching over his surroundings before bending down to tie his shoelaces.

“That’s definitely his people.”

“Positive?”

“Just look. All of them have that scar he puts on them— you know…” James rolled his hand as if to bring Thomas up to speed. “The Butcher. He marks his people across the cheek.” James ran his finger from the corner of his mouth back toward the ear.

“I just thought it was a stupid nickname or maybe his job before Almawt.”

“Nope… Same scar—mouth to ear… Always mouth to ear.”

“Damn,” Thomas said under his breath. He just stared at the Butcher’s men. The rover stood from tying his shoelaces and turned back toward the woods. Why the hell would someone let that happen? You’d have to be desperate to let someone do that to you. Brainwashed… Thomas looked on as the armed stranger disappeared into the park.