11:17 P.M. Thirteen minutes until Zeke creates his distraction: a car fire just outside of the south entrance that should pull at least one of the guards away from their posts.
Should.Shouldis doing a lot of heavy lifting in this plan. More than I’d like.
I taste metal on my tongue, that familiar tang of adrenaline that I’ve come to know intimately over the past two months. My fingers tighten around the climbing harness strapped across my chest. It cost me four hundred bucks cash at the REI in Schaumburg this morning. The cashier gave me a quizzical look when I asked which model could support two hundred poundsof deadweight on a rapid descent, but in the end, she rang me up without questions.
Thank fuck, because my backup option was slinging a bath towel over the wires and praying like hell that it’d hold me.
The power lines stretch between buildings, sagging in the humid air. They look thinner from up here than they did from street level.
Six stories below, the pavement waits with infinite patience and infinite appetite for blood.
Zeke’s voice crackles through the headphone in my ear that’s connected to the cheap burner phones we bought. “In position at the south entrance. Ready when you are, Captain.”
My idiot best friend showed up tonight wearing all black, like we’re auditioning for roles inOcean’s Eighteen. But to his credit, he didn’t ask questions when I handed him the jerry can of gasoline and explained his job was to torch the nearest parallel-parked car, chuck in a handful of fireworks, and then get the hell out of Dodge before the guards could put a bullet in him.
“You sure about this?”is all he’d asked. I’d said,“No,”and he’d nodded like that was good enough for him.
That’s Zeke. That’s always been Zeke.
“Copy,” I murmur into the phone. “Eleven twenty-three. Seven minutes out.”
“Seven minutes,” he repeats. “Then I light this bitch up and we see if your crazy plan actually works.”
“It’ll work.”
“You sound real confident for a guy about to tightrope-walk across live electrical wires.”
“Dumb confidence is all I’ve got left, Z.”
“That’s all you’ve ever had, emphasis on the ‘dumb,’” he snorts. “That and your winning personality. So I guess this really is goodbye.”
Somehow, I find it in me to laugh. “Stay safe.”
“You, too, asshole. Don’t die for real this time. I don’t have any good lines left over for a second eulogy.”
The last few minutes crawl by like hours.
11:24.
11:25.
11:26.
My muscles are coiled tight enough to throb. The harness digs into my hips where I’ve cinched it too tight, but there’s no adjusting it now.
11:28.
I move into position at the roof’s edge. The power lines veer off before me. The safe house squats on the other side, waiting.
Sage’s window is dark now. He must have gone to sleep, not knowing his brother is about to do something unbelievably fucking stupid to get him back.
11:29.
I clip the harness to the wire. The metal carabiner clicks into place.
11:29:57… :58… :59…
At the stroke of 11:30, the night explodes.
