6
This time, Ewing came when she dragged him down the corridor to the maintenance hatch ladder. He gasped in surprise as he crawled out the hatch into the battering rain and wind. And here comes the whining...
“I forgot what fresh air tastes like.”
“It tastes wet.”
His laugh was encouraging, but he didn’t look strong enough to control his own descent. She tied the end of her grapple rope to his MOLLE vest’s lifting ring and took a bight of rope about her waist before guiding him over the roof’s edge.
“Don’t drop me,” he pleaded as he eased over the lip.
“Well,” she grunted as she took his weight, “you weigh a lot more than a brown-furry. More like a mole of brown-furries, but I’ll try not to.”
“No, that would be roughly two to the twentieth tons and that’s—” she lowered him out of s
