******
Jeffrey now knew as a certainty that his idea was quite bad. His head screamed this fact over and over again as he, with a white-knuckled grip, slowly descended his make-shift rope, with several stories yet to go before he was safely on the ground again.
The only place where he could freely access Old Haven was in one of the many trash dump sites. Most garbage disposal had switched to incinerator units, but there were still a few things that required simple dumping. Inside assorted medium-sized shack buildings, a small depression was set into the ground. Garbage was placed into it, and the bottom would open up, casting the refuse into the huge, wide open landfill of down below.
By the time he had been confident enough in his plan to risk his life accomplishing it, the first edges of sunlight began to peek through the buildings. It cast a beautiful shimmer of soft orange light into the sky, but he, sadly, was unable to appreciate it this particular morning as he passed into the disposal structure.
The building was empty, but his servant codes allowed him easy access. Jeffrey had tied his makeshift rope to a heavy pipe. He tested it, the knot he tied, the strength of the pipe, and his own upper body endurance by swinging back and forth suspended beneath for several seconds. Nothing broke, shifted, or slipped free. He almost wished it had; it would have given him a good excuse not to make the attempt.
Steeling himself with a deep breath, he pulled the release lever. With a loud, hollow clang, the wide hinges snapped free and dropped the little bits of collected trash. He kicked free of the ledge and dangled out into the yawning, open space.
The first few dozen feet weren't terrible. He wasn't an athlete, but even with his poor condition he had a decent level of fitness. Still, after what felt like an hour of descent, his arms burned from the exertion, and his insides felt like they were disintegrating.
Sweat poured down his body and dripped off into the seemingly endless chasm. Grimy brick surrounded him on either side, and after several minutes of climbing he made the mistake of looking down.
A terrified gasp caught in his throat, and his limbs locked momentarily around the tied together bed sheets, which somehow seemed more thin and frail than before. A wave of terror coursed through his mind as his hands slipped free of the rope.
His awareness froze. He squeezed his eyes shut, awaiting the rush of air that would signify acceleration shortly before he plowed into the ground, skin and soft tissue bursting, bones grinding into powder-
When no impact occurred, he slowly peeked out of squinting eyes. A flood of relief swept through him when he saw that his hands held an unflinching death grip on the rope, the "fall" merely a terrified expression of his fear-stricken mind. He took several deep breaths and forced his panicked wits to relax.
He descended once more, slowly and methodical. Soon enough, a glow from the dingy street lamps below caressed the sides of the wall, but he still didn't look down. Nice and easy, he thought, hand over hand. That's it. His muscles groaned from the exertion, his eyes stung from the dripping sweat, but he continued out of sheer will.
I have to be close, he thought.
Jeffrey felt a muscle twinge in the small of his back. He barely had time to think, Uh oh, before a wrenching pain ripped through his torso as his muscles violently seized. His hands grasped frantically at the rope, slipping. He tilted backwards, and this time it was real. He was falling.
He opened his mouth to scream.
Uprising Page 67