ORIGINAL FICTION: "Climbers" (Chapter Three)

the worker stepped on the loose shingle and went for an E ticket ride. Ray heard it, though. The dull thump of roofer hitting roof, the loud yell that can't be printed here, followed by the sound of a man sliding to the edge of the roof. The nice, quiet free-fall part of the show was cancelled by the roofer being quick enough to lock his boots into the gutter before he went over the side. Saved by the downspout. Whew. Thank God for a job well done. The gutter didn't just rip off the eave and fall with him. Lucky guy. Good job.
So Ray had been up there before, but this time he was alone. Only one person to slip on shingles today and Ray was understandably nervous. It had been some years ago, but he was remembering every little detail of that excursion. Feeling a bit woozily, Ray found a spot that looked less uncomfortable than the rest of the roof and sat down. Time for a break. And a good look around. What a view.
The kids across the street were still playing with those lawn missiles. The game must have degenerated a bit, Ray thought, since they didn't appear to be aiming for that ring that he could now see quite clearly from his new vantage point. Nope. They're not aiming for that ring at all. What are they aiming for? The sky. They're just seeing how high they can throw those things. And running like mad to get out of the way when it comes back down. Ray came to the unmistakable conclusion that the kids were good runners, but lousy throwers. Those things weren't coming up high enough to be at eye level with his perch. Close, but he was still looking down at their highest throws. Uh-oh. This is not good. Ray knew what that meant. Unless they had another method of launching those things, or bigger kids were involved, those lawn darts would never make it up to this roof. Not with any force, at least.
Ray sat for a minute and looked around the roof. Forget the kids. A career in professional baseball was not in their future. It took some time for him to figure out where he was relative to their bedroom in the house beneath him. No, he wasn't quite over the bedroom here. It must be over the ridge behind him. No problem, just a careful climb to the top. Ray made his way up on all fours to the top and stopped on his hands and knees at the ridge line. If there had been any lack of concern on Ray's part about the seriousness of the situation (and there had), that carefree approach to last night's events evaporated the moment he saw the roof on the other side. If the sight itself didn't convince him, the sound of his heart pounding in his ears should have done it. Big Trouble.
Two roof lines converged on the other side of that ridge where Ray was crouched like a nervous cat. Neither roof face was large and their angles no steeper than any other part of the roof. But if you ignore the questions of "What was it?" and "Where did it come from?" It was obvious what happened. Something had stepped down on the roof at the top of the other face and lost its footing. Ray could see the first skid mark, not too deep, on the shingles just below the ridge. The second step was the one that tore the shingle loose. Ray could see where that shingle came from, and saw that the shingle beneath it had also been damaged. Something fell and hit hard right there. The third impact point was nearly as bad as the second. That shingle was torn, but not completely in half. It was still in place, more or less, but torn and badly damaged. It would have to be replaced now.
From there, near the base of the two roof lines, Ray could see where "it", whatever it was, made one very hard direct hit on the roof, without slipping. The shingle there was punctured, not scraped. Ray knew he'd have to go up into the attic to check the damage on that one. The damage continued of the other roof face, but not as bad. Just some scrapes and marks that lessened as the