up us like a stepladder."
Troy measured off thirteen or so feet to the top of the parapet with his eyes.
"I believe you're right," he said. "You could just about reach the top of that wall with your hands and pull yourself over. Come on, time's a-wasting, let's move. Only thing, Wilson's on the bottom. You next. I'm going over. Someone's got to anchor the rope for you two monkeys."
Without a word, Wilson assumed his stance against the wall.
"Just a minute," Troy said. "Tully, shed your robe."
He took the clothing, rolled them together and ran to the back side of the tiled rooftop. He hurled them into the narrow passage at the rear they had used the night before. It was, he noted with a wry smile, a cul-de-sac ending at the blank wall of a building.
Wilson and Tully both were in place and Troy crawled up Wilson's back and from his shoulders onto Tully. The ladder was shaky but it did not collapse. Standing wobbly-legged on Tully's shoulders, Troy reached for the parapet. His fingertips were short an inch. He lifted on his toes and could get his fingers on the ledge but not with enough purchase to draw himself up.
"Give me another inch or two," he said.
Wilson slid his feet ahead, used his forearms to help his straighten and Tully did the same. Troy gripped the top of the wall with the lengths of his fingers, did a slow and trembling finger pullup, heaved and slipped one arm over the parapet. He got a grip with his other hand and lifted himself up and over.
"Whew," he said and lay on the roof, gulping air to stop the quivering in his arms. Then sitting beside the reservoir for added support, he threw the line, still looped about his waist, over the wall.
"Wilson first," he called softly and braced his legs. Tully must have boosted Wilson from his back because the unbearable, sweat-popping, dead weight pull of the lift lasted only a few seconds. With Wilson helping, they brought up Tully and then sat with their heads hanging between their knees until they had their wind back. When Troy lifted his head, Tully was studying the top of the reservoir.
"What's that?" he asked, pointing up.
A ledge about a foot wide extended skyward at a forty-five degree angle on all four sides.
"To catch rainwater," Troy said. "There are holes for it to run into the tank."
"You don't think they'll look for us up here, Troy?" Wilson asked. He seemed to be taking it calmly enough and for once, he wasn't trying to run the show.
"Of course they will," Troy said, "but it's going to be the last place they look and they won't search so thoroughly. Now give me a hand, Tully, and we'll see how our luck is running today."
He gripped the ledge that ran around the five-foot-high reservoir and swung himself on top of it. When Tully followed, they gripped the iron ring that was fitted into the cistern cover. After the weight of Wilson, lifting the concrete lid was like uncapping a bottle. Troy spread-eagled on the top of the tank and reached his arm into it. He did not touch water.
"Our luck is running," he said and grinned at Tully. "Now you hop in and tell me how deep it is. Wait, wait, I just remembered something." He pulled the rope up from the roof and slung it around his canteen. "Might as well fill up our canteens before you jump in the bathtub." He let the bottom of the canteen touch the floor of the reservoir, then brought the rope up and measured the wetness here on it. The water was about a foot deep. Troy filled Wilson's and Tully's canteens after he had filled his own.
"All right," he told Tully. "Get in there and sit down. Wilson, you hop in after Tully."
"We going to be able to breathe all right in there, Sarge?" Tully asked.
"It's not airtight," Troy said. "I told you about those holes for the rainwater."
"Uh, Troy," Wilson said. "You've done first rate up to now and I don't want you to think I'm complaining, but haven't you forgotten one thing?"
"What's that?" Troy asked.
"Once the three of us are inside, how are we going to
Troy measured off thirteen or so feet to the top of the parapet with his eyes.
"I believe you're right," he said. "You could just about reach the top of that wall with your hands and pull yourself over. Come on, time's a-wasting, let's move. Only thing, Wilson's on the bottom. You next. I'm going over. Someone's got to anchor the rope for you two monkeys."
Without a word, Wilson assumed his stance against the wall.
"Just a minute," Troy said. "Tully, shed your robe."
He took the clothing, rolled them together and ran to the back side of the tiled rooftop. He hurled them into the narrow passage at the rear they had used the night before. It was, he noted with a wry smile, a cul-de-sac ending at the blank wall of a building.
Wilson and Tully both were in place and Troy crawled up Wilson's back and from his shoulders onto Tully. The ladder was shaky but it did not collapse. Standing wobbly-legged on Tully's shoulders, Troy reached for the parapet. His fingertips were short an inch. He lifted on his toes and could get his fingers on the ledge but not with enough purchase to draw himself up.
"Give me another inch or two," he said.
Wilson slid his feet ahead, used his forearms to help his straighten and Tully did the same. Troy gripped the top of the wall with the lengths of his fingers, did a slow and trembling finger pullup, heaved and slipped one arm over the parapet. He got a grip with his other hand and lifted himself up and over.
"Whew," he said and lay on the roof, gulping air to stop the quivering in his arms. Then sitting beside the reservoir for added support, he threw the line, still looped about his waist, over the wall.
"Wilson first," he called softly and braced his legs. Tully must have boosted Wilson from his back because the unbearable, sweat-popping, dead weight pull of the lift lasted only a few seconds. With Wilson helping, they brought up Tully and then sat with their heads hanging between their knees until they had their wind back. When Troy lifted his head, Tully was studying the top of the reservoir.
"What's that?" he asked, pointing up.
A ledge about a foot wide extended skyward at a forty-five degree angle on all four sides.
"To catch rainwater," Troy said. "There are holes for it to run into the tank."
"You don't think they'll look for us up here, Troy?" Wilson asked. He seemed to be taking it calmly enough and for once, he wasn't trying to run the show.
"Of course they will," Troy said, "but it's going to be the last place they look and they won't search so thoroughly. Now give me a hand, Tully, and we'll see how our luck is running today."
He gripped the ledge that ran around the five-foot-high reservoir and swung himself on top of it. When Tully followed, they gripped the iron ring that was fitted into the cistern cover. After the weight of Wilson, lifting the concrete lid was like uncapping a bottle. Troy spread-eagled on the top of the tank and reached his arm into it. He did not touch water.
"Our luck is running," he said and grinned at Tully. "Now you hop in and tell me how deep it is. Wait, wait, I just remembered something." He pulled the rope up from the roof and slung it around his canteen. "Might as well fill up our canteens before you jump in the bathtub." He let the bottom of the canteen touch the floor of the reservoir, then brought the rope up and measured the wetness here on it. The water was about a foot deep. Troy filled Wilson's and Tully's canteens after he had filled his own.
"All right," he told Tully. "Get in there and sit down. Wilson, you hop in after Tully."
"We going to be able to breathe all right in there, Sarge?" Tully asked.
"It's not airtight," Troy said. "I told you about those holes for the rainwater."
"Uh, Troy," Wilson said. "You've done first rate up to now and I don't want you to think I'm complaining, but haven't you forgotten one thing?"
"What's that?" Troy asked.
"Once the three of us are inside, how are we going to
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