ORIGINAL FICTION: "Climbers" (Chapter Three)

with excessive intelligence when it comes to facing their demons? They just sort of blunder along, unthinking and unarmed? Remember The Exorcist? That woman heard what sounded like a body falling in her attic, so she went to check it out. WITH A CANDLE! Not even a flashlight, and certainly without a weapon. Would you? Not me. When something goes bump in the night around my place, I pull out a Katana from the cane stand and then we go for a look. That thing could cut a person in two any way you care to slice it. Literally. If it were me, and I heard loud thumpy noises in my attic, there'd be three of us going up there for a look: Me, Smith and Wesson. Unarmed? Huh-uh. No way. Seen too many stupid people in the movies.
Ray wasn't stupid. Kind of groggy from his nap, but not stupid. He just didn't have a clue what he was dealing with. How could he? But it was broad daylight, and he was inside his own house. You're supposed to be safe there, right? He was. He made his way up the folding stairs from the second floor to the attic, and found the pull cord for the light bulb. Those sixty watts of unbridled lumens (in natural warm soft white) sure got lost quick up there. Ray wove his way around the trunks and boxes, Christmas decorations and unused exercise equipment to the part of the roof he had seen from above. He looked, but couldn't see any damage. He ran his hand over the roof panels, and found a slight bulge. Maybe that's it. No crack, though. Just a warp or bulge or something. Is this the right place? Ray looked around the attic to orient himself. Yes, this was it. Not much to be done here. Still need that big flashlight, though. And maybe a stronger light for up here. Ray made it back to the steps without incident. If there were any demons hiding up there, it was time for their afternoon nap.
Downstairs, on the first floor, Barbara had cleaned herself up a bit and begun dinner. Saturday dinners at the Meadows' were usually fairly simple: Soup and sandwich in the winter, Salad and sandwich in the summer. Spring and fall? It depended on the weather. Today was definitely a salad day. One of their last, but who knew?
Ray could tell from the sounds coming out of the kitchen it was going to be salad and sandwiches tonight. Fine with him. Ray wasn't a picky eater. No need for a big elaborate meal, or anything with okra. Knowing this, Barbara planned accordingly. And okra was right out. Ray was washed up and at the table before the salad, but the salad had spent more timed getting cleaned up for the occasion. With the addition of the sandwiches and a couple of tall iced teas, Barbara sat down to join her husband for dinner. Not a bad Saturday. Not bad at all. Barbara led the conversation, as she often did. Ray was the quiet type.
"How'd it go on the roof?"
"Oh, not bad. Fixed up six shingles. The rest will be ok."
Ray's attempt at nonchalance didn't work. Barbara hadn't seen the roof, and had no reason to expect more damage than what she had seen on that one shingle. This was not what she wanted to hear.
"What??"
"It's ok. I fixed them. Let it rain."
Ray tried a smile, but he wasn't fooling anyone. Least of all Barbara.
"Ray, what happened up there last night?"
Ray took his time with that one. He didn't really want to think about it any more than he had to. And now he had to. All he knew was what it wasn't. And it wasn't those kids.
"Well, I think we can rule out those lawn things the kids were throwing."
"So I noticed. They couldn't reach the roof on a dare. Besides, it sounds like whatever it was left a mess up there."
"No, I wouldn't call it a mess, really."
"What would you call it?"
In the seconds of silence that followed Barbara's last question, Ray's mind came up with the only word to fill in that blank. He