Night Anchor

Night took the light off the iron slats, turning the alley into a black slit. The drop ladder pivot held silent, but the wind began pushing through the railing joints with a sharp hiss. I stayed low, keeping clear of window glow, and checked the rusted corner bracket near my boot. Caught behind the drain clamp, a heavy brass zipper slider lay wedged in a knot of blackened nylon cord. I freed the cord, wrapped the braided strands twice around the whistling iron slat, and pulled the slider tight against the seam with deliberate grip. The vibration died instantly. Set my back against the coarse exterior brick, rifle leveled across my knees. The street below stays in range.