Miles - Wallcrawling

I look around carefully, down the alley in the direction I just came from, around each corner, and through to the other side. No one. So I reach out and touch the wall in front of me and close my eyes. I feel the gentle pull of my hand against it, like it’s covered in double-sticky tape, or like my fingertips have magnets inside.

Magnets that stick to bricks, I guess.

One hand latches, then the other. Then my left foot. Then my right. Soon, I’m climbing the wall as naturally as if I were crawling across the floor, one foot and hand right after the other. I keep my eye on the fifth-floor window—the corner unit closest to the street to my left. I’m about three floors up when I hear a sharp, violent intake of breath, like someone just inhaled a whole bowl of baked ziti through their sinuses. I flinch and freeze, but I don’t fall. Instead, I hold my breath and look around, hands still stuck to the wall, feet still stuck to the wall.

***

Chapter 4