[This post is from Thom’s point of view.]
Thom felt something give in his shoulder as his flight continued, crashing into Paul and taking the other man down with him. He hit the watchtower floor and skidded to the far side, nearly off the far end. The muted sound of shouting was barely audible over the thunder of blood in his ears. His lungs spasmed as his body slipped over the edge of the watchtower’s floor and began to fall again.
It was thirty feet to the ground.
His fingers barely caught on the edge of the flooring and he cried out, his shoulder wrenching. Splinters dug into his fingertips as they continued to slip. He looked down, struggling to breathe. His knee throbbed.
This—
“Hang on!” The shout was clear and hands closed around his wrist.
Thom dared to look up, seeing Paul there, hanging onto his arm with both hands. Thom sucked in another breath.
“I’ll pull you up but you need to help me.”
His blood roared in his ears as Thom nodded. He swallowed hard, swinging his other arm up, fingers reaching for the edge of the platform as Paul started to pull him back. Pain screamed through Thom’s arm and shoulder, pain he ignored. There wasn’t time.
It took two tries, but he caught the edge of the platform with his other hand. Between the two of them, Thom ended up back on the platform, laid out on his belly and breathing hard, relief and pain pouring through his nerves in equal measures.
“Are you all right?” Paul asked, panting.
“No. Are you?”
“More surprised than hurt.” Paul’s jaw tightened. “There’s three left.”
“Take them out,” Thom said, squeezing his eyes shut as he started to try to pick himself up off the floor. “That’s all that matters. Take them the hell out.”
