Heroic Measures (continued)

Glancing upward, he recognized that his only other option was to climb back up to the rooftop and wait. He sagged against the ladder supports, certain that he lacked the strength to attempt it. Falling, he realized, required almost no effort at all.

It’s the landing that’s the hard part.

Walter rested his head against the vertical support, pleased to actually be able to feel the slick, cool metal against his forehead. He breathed deeply several times, almost sighs, summoning up the courage to complete his downward climb. Mostly, he found, he was simply tired and wanted this to be over with. He decided that he would figure out what to do once he was on the ground after he had actually gotten there.

Feelings the muscles in his upper arms protest, he slowly lowered himself until his feet were completely free of the last rung. He felt it scrape along his shins and then bump, much more gently this time, against his knees. Peering down through the remaining rungs of the ladder, he saw his boots suspended over empty darkness. He told himself that it was an illusion, that the ground lay only a few feet below. His feet did not believe him. It took an immense force of will not to kick them and try to force his way back up the ladder to relative safety.

With torturous slowness, he lowered his body past the next rung. He swung freely from the waist down now. The cold metal of the bottom rung pressed hard against his stomach. The street remained far below. Trying not to think about it, Walter lowered himself down the next rung.

His arms trembled with the effort as he clung to the sides of the ladder. The last rung ran across his windpipe, preventing him from hugging it close as he had the others. He swung his boot experimentally, stretching his toes downward, hoping to feel them scrape against the asphalt. They encountered only night air.

Walter knew that there was no way that he could pull himself back up again. He could dangle where he was for a short while, but he knew that, before long, his muscles would cramp and he would be forced to release his hold.

How tall was this building anyway?

He had gotten only the briefest glance of it as the helicopter had approached it, but his attention had been focused elsewhere, not on surveying his assigned landing spot.

Five stories?

He was certain that he had descended at least the distance of three of them as he had made his way down the ladder.

So . . . two more stories? At most?

Visualizing the approximate distance of the drop in his mind, he tried to convince himself that it was not all that far . . . if he landed correctly.

If.

Despite feeling the tension in nearly every part of his body, Walter lowered himself until he was suspended only by his grip on the bottommost rung. His entire body hung free of the ladder now. His arms, already punished by his deliberate descent, quickly began to scream protests about their working conditions. Swallowing hard, Walter released his hold, ready to flex into the landing as he had never done before.