“Hey, Eric!”
The younger boy jumped.
“See that trail?” Liam wrapped the rope around the trunk twice, threading it through itself to create a secure wraparound anchor, then tied it off with a double bowline knot for redundancy. He gave it a firm tug—solid. “My buddy Noah is coming. Watch for dust; wave and holler when you spot him. Stay close enough to see us, far enough to stay safe.”
The boy nodded once, then took off.
“What about me?” Michael’s voice cracked. The kid was clearly near tears.
Liam snapped his harness, pulled out his Petzl GRIGRI, and clipped it to a locking carabiner attached to the belay loop of his harness. “You’re my eyes up here. See any rockfall starting, you scream ‘Debris.’ Kristen’s life depends on your warning.”
The kid nodded, wiped a hand across his face.
Liam threaded the rope through the GRIGRI, ensuring that the brake strand hung downward, then he double-checked the setup. He slung a small first aid kit onto one of his loops and tucked a lightweight Petzl Sitta harness—small enough to adjust for Kristen’s tiny frame—into his pack, along with a roll of SAM Splint and some climbing tape. He pulled on a pair of leather gloves and stepped to the edge, facing the anchor tree, his heels just shy of the drop.
Christiana’s face ambushed him again. Her final scream.
His lungs seized.Not today. Not this girl.
He leaned back, then walked backward down the vertical face, keeping his body perpendicular to the rock and his knees slightly bent. The rope glided through the GRIGRI, the device’s cam ready to lock at the first hint of speed. His boots foundpurchase on every ledge, his eyes flicking between Kristen and the wall.
“Kristen. You’re doing awesome.”
The ledge looked worse up close—spiderwebbed with fractures that predated her fall. Yeah, this rock was one bad storm from giving way, and now with the added weight…No, no, he wasn’t going to go there.
Except, too late, because suddenly Christiana’s shattered body flashed through his mind and the scream he couldn’t escape ripped through him, the memory of Christiana missing her grip, her anchors pulling out like a zipper?—
Then silence. Bone-jarring, soul-deafening silence. The kind that could paralyze a man. Or make him run?—
Focus!
His chest tightened, his breath hitching, but he forced it down, looked at Kristen as he landed beside her. Pebbles kicked off over the edge. He ignored them and the tiny pinch in his gut. “How’s the leg?”
He clipped a quickdraw from his harness to a small horn of rock in the wall, attaching the rope as a backup anchor, then turned to Kristen.
“All right, we’re gonna fix up your leg and get you out of here. You’re super brave, you know that?” Liam kept his weight on the rope.
“Hurts bad.” Her voice barely whispered. “Can’t move it.”
“Perfect. Moving it is off-limits anyway. Time to fix you up and fly you home.” Liam extracted the SAM Splint from his pack. “Ever visit the North Rim before? We’ve got deer everywhere, sometimes a condor if you’re lucky enough.”
“Saw a squirrel.” Her voice thinned as he straightened her leg to fit into the splint. She gasped, sharp and sudden.
“Almost finished, kiddo.”
He molded the foam-and-aluminum splint around her calf and shin, secured it with climbing tape. “Pain anywhere else? Back? Neck?”
She shook her head. He let out a coiled breath. Still, he pulled out a neck collar and secured it around her neck. “We’re not taking any chances.”
Then he pulled his radio off his belt. “Base, victim is secure. Can you give me an ETA on Noah?”
“He’s still fifteen minutes out, Liam. Ran into tourist traffic.”
And right then, the sandstone ledge seemed to lurch. Could be his imagination. Could be his worst fears, coming true…again.
He looked at Kristen. “Ready to fly?”
Her eyes widened.
