Excerpt: Who's Gonna Die? (working title)

Excerpt 1 from Who’s Gonna Die?
Peter came up with the bright idea of having his students hoist him up with a cable run over a connecting beam and hooked to a leather-belted safety vest. Most of them protested, a few refused, but he succeeded in talking three of the grad assistants into pulling him up. They’d laughed at him at first, flying aloft like Peter Pan. Frankie had been there watching. She’d laughed with the rest of them. And she trusted Peter. If he believed it was safe, well, then, it was. There he was soaring above them, his tie-dyed shirt bagging out, his hair wild in the sky, his welder’s mask dangling from his neck.
When they pulled him up for real, to weld the dragonfly on, he packed his torch and lighter in a tool belt. He settled the mask over his face while still on the ground, and he took the dragonfly up in a first trip and set it on the flat top of the mass of concrete. For a minute, he stared at it, contemplating what it might look like left alone. However, when he came down for the other equipment, he looked up at it.
“You can’t see it from here!” he shouted to Frankie. “I’ll have to put it where I planned!” He closed his mask.
She gave him a thumbs up.
The students hoisted him up and dug in. He was secure.
He braced himself with his feet, and attached a second line to the dragonfly to secure it in case he couldn’t keep hold of it during the weld. He carefully lit the acetylene torch, holding it facing away from his body. He set down the friction lighter on the concrete, and hefted the dragonfly. Holding it against his shoulder, and keeping the torch aloft, he placed a foot on a grid of the globe face. He had to walk up these ‘rungs’ about a quarter of the way, then set the dragonfly, and weld it into place. The mask must have hampered his vision.
“Pull!” he yelled. The students pulled him up, easing his task tremendously. Everyone kept an eye on the torch that burned almost invisibly from this distance. In no time he’d made the climb. He leaned into the globe, which was big enough and strong enough and firmly enough mounted to hold him.
When he started to heat the dragonfly and the grid, all breathing below him stopped. When he made the first attachment, people ‘oohed’ and clapped delicately. Now it was easier. He didn’t have to support the dragonfly any longer, so he was free to move that hand around. In short order he welded the touchpoints together. He cut off the torch and pointed to his masterpiece, letting out a whoop of joy. Below they cheered and raised their fists and applauded. Peter pumped his arm and pointed skyward. Higher!
The crew was mindful of his safety. They pulled him up gradually, while he walked the globe to its top pole. There he stood astride it like a titan [ck], arms crossed, blonde hair blowing about the strong jaw and brow as he posed. He was a god.
Then, with a shout, he jumped. It startled everyone, including his ground crew, but they hadn’t loosened their grips. They held on, sure they could lower him down safely. And they did. But they had no control over the globe which responded to Peter’s antics by loosening from its moorings, not secure after all. With a rush of grit and falling stone, it pulled loose. A wrenching of metal gave warning. Peter looked up in time to move out of the way. But one of his students wasn’t mindful of the plummeting sphere. He jumped over and shoved her out of the way. Unlike the movies, his momentum didn’t carry him out of its path. The globe landed atop his body with enough impact that there were grid-like bruises across his chest.