Free Kronos by Jeremy Robinson Page A

but focused on his footing. Using his strong abdominal muscles, Atticus pulled his legs up so that his toes pressed flat against the wall. His fingers strained, digging down into the small space between the sill and the bricks, struggling for purchase.
    “Atticus?” The voice was shaky, tinged with fear. “What the hell are you doing?”
    He looked up and found Andrea’s eyes burrowing into his. Her face was twisted with concern. He just stared up at her, silent.
    She must have sensed his legs tensing. “Don’t.”
    Atticus looked back to the corner. It was six feet away, but in his current position, all squished like a spring, the leap shouldn’t be a challenge for a six-foot-two man.
    “I can help you,” Andrea said, sounding desperate.
    “The best thing you can do,” Atticus said, “is stay out of my way.”
    Andrea pursed her lips tightly. “Please…”
    Then he was airborne, sailing out over the five-story drop like a fearless flying squirrel. And just as a squirrel clings to a tree, Atticus found himself clutching the corner of the hospital. His left hand and foot found holds; then, he swung his body around the corner and found a brick for his other hand and foot. He gave one last look to Andrea, her black hair blowing in the wind, dancing around her worried face.
    Then it hit him.
    “Why are you here?” he asked, forgetting for the moment that he was hugging the side of a building.
    “The room was empty.”
    “What?”
    Andrea paused, her face flushing. She wanted tell him the truth—that she’d always regretted losing him and that she had never stopped wondering about him, how his life had turned out, if they would ever see each other again. She stared into his eyes, unable to find any words.
    Atticus smiled. Andrea had never been short on words, yet here she was, mute. At first he thought she had changed dramatically, become mousey for some reason, but the redness in her cheeks betrayed embarrassment over the unspoken answer, which suddenly struck him as obvious. There she was, hanging out of a window, looking like some damsel in distress, and she was worried for his well-being—a man she hadn’t seen in twenty years. Or was it more? Perhaps the Coast Guard simply assigned her to keep an eye on him?
    Her eyes continued staring into his, conveying the message her mouth could not form.
    This had nothing to do with the Coast Guard.
    A gust of wind caused Atticus to tighten his grip. A brief fear of falling took his eyes away from hers, but his grip remained secure. He looked at her again, this time allowing his frown to convey a silent message of his own. Sorry .
    His hands and feet burst into action, and he began a rapid descent. He glanced up one last time. Andrea was no longer in the window.
    He doubled his pace.
    Andrea hadn’t waited for the elevator, hadn’t even pushed the button. She barreled down the staircase, taking two stairs at a time. What is he thinking? Does he want to get himself killed?
    She entered the lobby in just under forty seconds, a much faster time, she believed, than Atticus could have made his way safely down the side of the building. Of course, she realized the he could have fallen the rest of the way and beat her by a long shot. He could already be dead.
    She blew past the bewildered receptionist and burst out of the air-conditioned hospital and into the summer humidity that smelled of seawater and roses. She turned left and kept running without missing a beat. She looked up, spotted the two open windows, and headed toward them.
    Her eyes followed her room to the small corner down which Atticus had climbed. She searched the corner up and down, but the silhouette of a climbing man eluded her. Before she reached the bottom, her view was blocked by a tall line of lilac bushes. She continued forward, but moved out and away from the hospital, increasing her angle of sight.
    For the briefest moment she thought she saw a shape clinging to the lowest portion of the corner,