Thank f**k, 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 i***t best friend showed up tonight wearing all black, like we’re auditioning for roles in Ocean’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
