"I think so," she said with a thin voice.

"Listen, I know this is crazy. I'm not so sure how long I can hang here. My arms are already starting to hurt. Just reach back and slide the door closed as you step off the ledge. You can do it. Hopefully this won't be long."

He watched, hanging there in the dark like a bat, as she dried her hands on the front of her pant legs. She shook her head as she stretched her hands along the metal pole.

"You can do it," he whispered.

"Will this thing hold us both?"

"I think it will," he said, trying to sound confident for her. "It has to hold a lot of weight if it was used for what I think it was used for."

She reached back with her free hand and struggled to get the door closed as far as she could with her feet in the way. The pole made a disheartening popping sound but didn't give way.

"I think it's all right," Jim assured her. "Feels solid."

"How can you be so sure?"

He looked down again without wanting to and said, "I'm not. I think it's just old and old things make strange noises."

She pulled one foot off the ledge and let it hang. Adjusting her grip to make sure it was tight, she reluctantly let her other foot slide off the wooden edge. She and Jim were now both hanging free from an old metal pole attached to even older wood by four rusty bolts.