Mr. Henderson smiled, a little sheepishly. "My grandson loves puzzles. We’ve been trying to see if we can signal him from this high point. He lives on the other side of town."
They reached the rusted iron gate. It was chained shut, but there was a gap to the left where the fence had bowed over the years. They slipped through and approached the heavy oak door of the tower.
Curiosity, friendship, and the idea that adults have secrets too.
A soft, green light was pulsing from the top window of the Watchtower. Pulse. Pulse. Long pause.
Suddenly, a voice boomed from the shadows, "It’s past your bedtime, kids."
