Godless by Pete Hautman Read Free Book Online Page B

fifty or sixty feet up, but it looks like a mile. My heart thumps wildly and a prickly feeling runs up my back.
    â€œI told you not to look,” Henry says.
    I wrench my eyes away from the ground and wait for my heartbeat to slow. My hands are locked on the cables, and my knees are shaking.
    â€œYou okay?” Henry asks.
    â€œNo.”
    â€œWe’re almost there.”
    I look up. Henry is still about twenty feet above me.
    â€œJust keep climbing,” he says.
    I slide my right hand up a couple feet and grab the cable. I move my left foot up, jam it between the cables, and move up another foot.
    â€œYou got it,” he says, and starts climbing again. The catwalk seems an impossible distance above him, but heis soon closer to the tank than he is to me.
    â€œForget it,” I say to myself. “This is nuts.”
    I watch Henry swing himself onto the catwalk. His face is a small moon against the planetary mass of the tank.
    â€œYou comin’?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œC’mon. It’s not that hard.”
    â€œI’m going back down.”
    â€œYou’re already halfway.”
    â€œI could get killed. This is crazy!”
    â€œCrazy? Man, you want to see crazy?” With a maniacal laugh, Henry drops over the edge of the catwalk and hangs by his hands. “
This
is
crazy
.”
    â€œDon’t
do
that.”
    â€œYou better get up here. Help, I’m gonna fall!”
    â€œCut it out, Henry.”
    He lets go with one hand. “Look at me, I’m a monkey.”
    â€œHenry, please …”
    He grabs the edge and swings himself back up onto the catwalk, laughing. My fear gives way to anger. “That was really stupid, man.”
    â€œMe stupid? Look at you. Halfway up and stuck like a cat in a tree.”
    â€œI’m not stuck.” To prove it, I move my right hand and slide my right foot down a few inches. I can get back down if I want to. But just moving that little bit—plus being really pissed at Henry—is enough to restore my confidence. If Henry can do it, so can I. Once again Ibegin to climb. Left hand, right foot, right hand, left foot. My arms are aching and my calves are cramping. Left hand, right foot, right hand … after an eternity I reach the catwalk and flop down on my back on the steel grating, gasping for breath. A hundred twenty feet? No problem. I could’ve climbed 121.
    â€œDidn’t think you had it in you, Jay-boy,” Henry says.
    â€œDon’t worry, I got it in me.” I sit up, gripping the safety rail with both hands.
    â€œWait till you get up top. C’mon.” Henry walks casually to the end of the catwalk and climbs up the ladder to the higher catwalk, the one that wraps all the way around the tank. I’m feeling pretty rubbery in the legs, but compared to scaling that leg, the ladder looks like a piece of cake.
    As long as I don’t look down.
    I am sitting at the exact center of the top of the tank, where the steps end. The tank slopes rapidly away on every side—there is no flat area. Imagine standing on an enormous metal ball—that’s what it’s like. I can’t see any of the I-beams or girders or any of the superstructure. I might as well be on a small metal moon hanging high above the surface of the Earth.
    Beneath me is a hatch about two feet across, secured by a brass padlock. Next to that is a four-foot-high steel post holding up a blinking red warning light. I have my arms wrapped around the post, afraid to let go. Every three seconds the top of the tower is lit up by a red flash.
    Looking at the tank’s horizon makes my stomach spin; I raise my eyes to the real horizon. I can see for miles. I see tens of thousands of flickering lights—neon signs, streetlamps, lights in windows. I see the moving lights of cars and trucks, and the garish, stabbing lights from the casino outside of town, and beyond that a glow on the horizon: the lights of