Chapter Eighteen

Meg

Two days later I crept out of the house minutes before midnight. The moon was full. It was the best sort of night for painting. Dark enough to blend in, but light enough to see what was right in front of me.

I sprinted down my steps, down the sidewalk, and continued on down the block.

Luke was waiting at the corner.

The dome light lit up the cab for a moment. I didn’t bother to suppress my smile when I realized he was dressed in all black.

“Criminal is a good look on you.”

“Oh, yeah?” he asked, half laughing. “We all know you have the ninja look mastered.”

“I might have to pull out some ninja moves if I’m going to climb that tower.”

He tossed a plastic bag in my lap.

“What’s this?” I pulled the bag open before he had a chance to answer. I found a black hat and a pair of gloves inside.

“The gloves are the sort you use for rock climbing.”

I ran my fingers over the palm, noting how they would help with my grip.

“And I thought a ski mask would be smart, just in case,” he said grimly.

I tentatively held up what I had thought was a hat. It was, indeed, a ski mask.

“I figured if I’m going to be your partner in crime, I might as well dress the part.”

“Actually,” I said quickly, “it was impulsive of me to ask you. I don’t want you to get in trouble. You could stay on the ground. Be my lookout?”

“I can’t stand the thought of you climbing that ladder alone. Which,” he said, “I know is stupid. It’s not like I’ll be able to catch you if you fall. But still.”

We drove in silence. My palms were sweaty. I was grateful to Luke for his foresight and purchase of the gloves.

“Are you nervous?” He pulled up to the curb a few blocks away from the tower.

“Kind of. I’ve never been nervous before, but then again, I’ve never had someone else’s reputation at stake,” I admitted. “I’ve only ever had to worry about myself if I got caught.”

“Let’s be sure not to get caught then.”

We hopped out of the vehicle. Our synchronized footsteps echoed softly as we hurried down the deserted sidewalk. My cans of paint clanged familiarly in my backpack. Most of the houses lining the street were dark. The field where the water tower stood was directly before us.

I felt a moment of trepidation as my gaze went up, up, up to the sky. The moon shone down, lighting the field in an eerie fashion. Now that we were so close, I noted the tower was taller than I had realized. My nervousness faded as adrenaline kicked in. I was doing this for Sydney, and that gave me the courage I needed. I picked up my pace. Luke adjusted his stride to keep up.

We reached the fence that enclosed the base. Four sturdy metal legs led to the top. A cage-like ladder was attached to one of the legs. It was tubular, with rungs circling all the way around to keep a person from falling backward. The ladder started a good eight feet up.

I rummaged around in my backpack, pulling out what I needed.

“Let’s do this!” I tugged on my ski mask and gloves. I pulled out the bolt cutter. I put it in place and gave the handles a squeeze. It took more effort than I anticipated. Luke reached for it, a silent offer to do it for me. I shrugged him away. I wanted the breaking and entering to be on my shoulders.

With a crack the deadbolt snapped. I hurriedly unwound the chain. I tossed it to the ground and shoved the gate open.

I put the bolt cutter away and pulled out a carefully rolled up bundle.

Luke took one final look around as he pulled the gate shut.

“Coming?” I asked.

“Yeah.” He laced his fingers together. I held the bundle I had pulled from my backpack in both hands. I stepped into Luke’s makeshift hoist, just as we’d discussed. He catapulted me upward.

Being a worrier, Mom had purchased a rope ladder for my second floor bedroom. It was the sort of ladder that hooked onto a windowsill and reached the ground in case of a fire.

The moment he lifted me high enough to reach the rungs of the water tower ladder I hooked the emergency ladder to it.

I quickly found my balance with the foot that was not in Luke’s hand. Once one foot was on the ladder, I stepped on with the other foot.

In no time I realized how helpful the gloves were. My hands easily gripped each wrung. As a trickle of perspiration dribbled down my spine, I knew my hands would’ve been sweaty and slippery. The climb would’ve quickly become treacherous.

There’s a fine line between fear and rapture. When your adrenaline kicks in, even the direst of circumstances can create a euphoric rush. I scaled the hundred or so feet, not with ease, necessarily, but not with difficulty, either. I was a misbegotten superhero on a mission.

When I emerged at the top, my muscles were trembling from the exertion. I clambered onto the narrow walkway that encircled the tank. A waist high guardrail offered some security. I dropped my backpack onto the metal grated floor as Luke appeared.

He looked over the edge and then quickly pressed himself against the tank. “I don’t think I like heights very much,” he admitted.

“You’re just realizing that now?” I pulled my black spray paint from my bag and uncapped it while keeping an eye on Luke. “Are you going to be okay?”

“Sure. Yeah. I haven’t exactly been in this kind of situation before. I’ll be fine.” He stayed seated while I got to work. Both of us were puffing and panting. Our breathing eventually evened out as our bodies relaxed.

Once I began, reality faded away. It was almost as if I could feel Sydney watching over my shoulder. I could hear the echo of her laughter and envision the way her eyes would light up. Maybe I should’ve felt sad, but I didn’t. For the time it took me to complete the mural, I felt free.

Luke let me work in silence, correctly guessing I would work faster without any interruptions. As I painted he didn’t budge from his spot. A quick glance at him every now and again confirmed he was scanning the street below, watching for any sign of trouble.

I finally finished and took a step back. I bumped into the guardrail. Luke jumped to his feet.

“Don’t get so close to that.” He swayed and grabbed the railing. “Yeah. Not a fan of heights.” He twisted around to get a look at my work. “It looks…good. I bet it would look even better from the ground.”

I laughed but he was right. I knelt down and repacked my bag.

“We should get moving,” I agreed.

He scrambled to the edge and began the descent. I shoved my hands back into my gloves and quickly followed.

We had barely begun when a dog started to bark. At first I thought it was coming from the neighborhood across the street. It was Luke who realized it wasn’t.

“Uh, Meg?”

I quickly zeroed in on what he had noticed.

Wagging its tail and yipping his welcome was an enormous, shaggy beast of a dog.

“Damn it.”

“Right,” he agreed. “Keep moving.”

“Dexter. Here, boy.” The voice echoed through the dark. Even as I continued to move downward, my head swiveled around. I scanned the neighborhood. I didn’t see anyone, but that didn’t mean anything. The voice sounded far away. I could only guess it would edge closer.

“Move, move. But don’t fall. I’d rather end up caught than dead,” he called out to me.

He was right. Getting caught would suck. But I really didn’t want to end up in a casket or with my bones shattered into a billion pieces.

I had worried the euphoria would fade once my painting was done. I had worried exhaustion would set in, making going down a struggle. Instead, with this looming threat, a new wave of adrenaline coursed through me.

We moved downward in quick, methodical movements. Each footstep carefully placed. We were moving as much by feel as by sight. The moon shone brightly, and while it gave us the advantage of better night vision, it would also give anyone walking by a better view of us. Not that anyone would even be looking if it weren’t for the damn dog.

The nearer we got to the ground, the louder and more excited Dexter became. I could see him running back and forth, pacing, tail slashing through the air.

“Dex—” The owner stopped mid-yell. I twisted my head to the left and saw the silhouette of a man standing on the opposite side of the street. “Hey,” he called. “What are you doing?”

The back of my shirt was soggy. I was sweating like a cow and cussing like a sailor. The ski mask felt itchy and damp as it became plastered to my face.

“Hey, you!” the owner bellowed. “You can’t be up there. I’m calling the cops.”

“Thanks for the warning,” Luke grumbled.

“Stay where you are,” he called. “Dexter will rip you to shreds if you come down.”

I was sure the only danger we were in from Dexter was being slobbered on. I was thankful that Luke had, for no real reason, swung the gate shut on our way up. The dog couldn’t get too close to us. Not yet.

I could tell the man was on his cell phone. I couldn’t make out his words. It didn’t take a valedictorian to infer that he had called the cops.

The solid metal ladder ended, and my feet hit the less stable rung of the rope safety ladder. A siren split the air. It wasn’t close, but it wasn’t as far away as I would like.

“Worried about the dog?” Luke asked.

I glanced over my shoulder. Dexter danced around happily. Tail wagging, tongue lolling about. Now his barking ceased. “Nah.”

“Don’t move!” the man shouted.

“Guy’s probably planning on making a citizen’s arrest,” Luke scoffed. I felt his hands around my waist as he pulled me from the ladder and dropped me to the ground.

“Let’s get out of here,” I encouraged. “I’ll take my chances with the mutt.”

A flurry of fur lunged at Luke when he pulled the gate open. He swung his leg out in a sweeping motion. It didn’t hit Dexter but the dog yelped anyway. It was surprised, but not deterred. A moment later his big paws landed on Luke’s chest. He stumbled as the dog’s slobbery tongue slashed out for a lick. Cussing, he pushed the dog away.

We took off running, and Dexter, despite his owner’s bewildered hollering, was on our heels. I yanked my bottle of pepper spray from my pocket as we raced across the field.

“Sorry, boy.” I slowed my pace for a moment, aimed, and fired a small puff. Dexter let out an awful series of yips that made me feel like a monster. It did, however, stop him in his tracks.

The owner let out a cry of terrified indignation. “What did you do to my dog?”

I faltered but Luke grabbed my hand. “The dog will be fine.”

This was no time to argue. The silent night had turned into a cacophonous onslaught. The man was screaming obscenities at us, Dexter was yowling in pain, and the siren was shrieking as it grew ever closer.

Luke pulled at my hand, leading us to the backside of the field, away from his vehicle.

“Aren’t we going the wrong way?” I huffed.

“We’re going to take the long way around.” We hit the tree line, and he let go of me. We raced through the woods as quickly as we dared, and I let him take the lead. We stumbled a few times, tripping over fallen logs, tangles of weeds and other debris. I dared a glance over my shoulder. The siren had been silenced. Now blue and white flares cut menacingly through the darkness.

We came through the other side of the trees, spilling into a neighborhood. My muscles were screaming and pain shot through my side. My lungs ached but we didn’t stop running.

I wasn’t sure where he was headed, but I continued to follow.

“This way,” he instructed over his shoulder.

He cut across a yard and I jogged after him. He darted toward an enormous wooden swing set. Three swings lined one side, a tower with a slide stood on the other. We clambered up the ladder on the backside.

We both dropped to the wooden slatted floor. We were both gasping for air, our lungs burning, our chests heaving.

“Figured,” he said through gasps, “this was…an okay…place to hide.”

The rough wood felt heavenly beneath my worn-out body. A metal roof covered us, but the wooden sides only went halfway to the roof. Big wedges of sky were visible in between. Blackness was ripening into a deep plum. The sun would be rising soon.

“We left the ladder,” I said.

“I know.”

“Can they use it as evidence?” I wondered.

I felt him shrug beside me. “They can try. But I don’t think it’ll be very useful. It’s not like you can take fingerprints off rope. Unless they trace the sale?”

“No,” I said. “Mom bought it from a secondhand store years ago.”

“Good. Then it can’t be traced.” He hesitated and then growled, “Damn, we got lucky.”

“I know.”

The seriousness of the situation slammed into me. We had almost been caught. What if Dexter hadn’t been a friendly dog? What if one of us had slipped on the way down? What if the cops had gotten there a few minutes sooner?

This could’ve ended so differently.

He brushed his knuckles against my cheek. “Are you okay?”

Was I?

“I don’t know.” I rolled my head to the side to look him in the eye. “This time felt different.”

“Painting the tower will be pretty hard to top.”

I let his words sink in, and I realized something. “It would be impossible. It wouldn’t make sense to even try.”

“So that’s it? You’re done?”

“I’m done.”

His hand reached for mine. “Then I’m glad I was able to be a part of it.”

I squeezed his fingers. “So am I.”