The Weight of Others
You refuse to leave the boy. Working fast, you rig a harness from frayed seatbelts and knotted coat sleeves, lashing all six of you into one trembling line. Halvor takes point; the boy clings to your back, his breath ragged against your neck.
You inch down the tower as the cable above sings a high, awful note — strands snapping one by one, like piano wires. Below you, the woman slips. The rope jerks. Everyone freezes.
Your knife is in your pocket. One cut, and the rest of you live.