Godless by Pete Hautman

off the tank in all directions.
    â€œAre you
crazy?
” Dan yells, his voice cracking.
    Henry is laughing. I notice that the thing in his hand is a hacksaw.
    â€œThat’s an aviation warning light. Now an airplane could hit us,” Dan says.
    â€œWhen’s the last time you saw an airplane fly this low over St. Andrew Valley?” Henry says. He goes back to his sawing. “Besides, I like the dark.”
    It
is
nice to be rid of the flashing beacon. Our light now comes from the three-quarter moon rising in the east. The top of the tank is shimmering silver. We arestanding atop the planet of the Ten-legged One. … Wait a sec, what is Henry doing with a hacksaw?
    â€œWhat are you doing?” I ask.
    He leans to the side to show me. He is sawing through the padlock that holds the hatch closed. “Brain surgery,” he says with a grin.

 
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    A ND THE SUN ROSE AND THE SUN SET AND THE WATERS OF THE E ARTH DID MOISTEN THAT WHICH WAS DRY, AND THE H UMANS DID DRINK THIRSTILY OF IT, AND THE C HUTENGODIANS DID WORSHIP THE T EN-LEGGED O NE AND ALL OF THE O CEAN’S A VATARS, AND LO, THERE WERE TIMES OF GOODNESS AND PLENTY .
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18
 
    â€œYou can’t do that!” Dan says.
    â€œSure I can. Look. I’m doing it.” Just as Henry says that, the saw blade snaps.
    â€œI guess the Ten-legged One does not desire brain surgery,” I say.
    â€œI got it almost sawed through.” Henry swings the broken hacksaw at the lock, whacking it repeatedly. The sound of the saw banging against the hatch echoes beneath our feet; I can feel the vibration. He gives it one last hard blow, getting his whole body behind it, and the lock snaps off, skids a few feet, nearly stops, then picks up speed as the slope of the tank steepens. As the lock disappears over the horizon, I’m reminded of how near we are to death.
    A second later we hear a loud metallic
bonk
, then an angry shout.
    â€œWho was that?” Dan asks.
    â€œSounded like Magda,” Henry says.
    â€œI better go see if she’s okay,” I say, starting down the ladder.
    I meet Magda on the catwalk.
    â€œWhat
was
that?” she asks. “It almost hit me!”
    â€œHenry cut the padlock off the hatch.”
    â€œWhy?”
    â€œI don’t know. I don’t know why Henry does any of the things he does.” I look over the railing. “Is Shin still down there?”
    â€œI didn’t see him.”
    â€œHe didn’t fall, I hope.”
    â€œI went all the way down. I didn’t see him anywhere. He must’ve climbed down and gone home.”
    â€œOh.” Shin must be miserable. He was so hard on himself the first time he tried and failed to climb the tower; this time must be even worse. I imagine how he must be feeling. Not good. I consider going after him … but what good would that do? I can’t change him. He is who he is. I can’t be responsible for every little glitch in his pathetic life.
    â€œHe’s a funny guy.”
    â€œI feel bad for him.”
    â€œYeah, me too.” I try to recapture some of the bad feeling so that I can share this feel-bad-moment with Magda, but mostly I’m just mad at Shin for being such awuss. How did I end up with a best friend who raises snails, anyway? I refuse to let Shin’s weirdness interfere with my social life. Or my religion.
    â€œWe’d better find out what Henry’s up to,” I say.
    We climb back up. Henry has the hatch open. He and Dan are peering into the opening.
    â€œShin went home,” I say.
    Henry says, “I told you he wouldn’t make it. I don’t know why you bother with him.”
    â€œHe’s my friend,” I say, transferring some of my anger from Shin to Henry.
    â€œThat doesn’t make him less of a loser. Grab my backpack for me, would ya?”
    I push Henry’s backpack over to him with my foot. He digs inside and comes out with a flashlight. He aims the