AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Why’d you come up this way?”
“Why do you think?” Her voice is harsh—derisive.
“To look for more strays?”
“Clearly.”
She sets off again, picking her way over the sheer rockface, moving slowly at times as she finds her hand- and footholds. I hum softly so she knows I’m still behind her, feeling like a fucker even as I know I can’t turn back without her—without at least talking to her. If she won’t help me, I’ll be in the bed by tomorrow.
After she hoists herself up onto the small plateau where the archway and the spires are, she disappears behind the arch’s left side.
Touché.
I shouldn’t be surprised, though. Why would she want to spend time with me?
I lift myself onto the plateau and blink down at the slopes below us. Fuck, we’re way up in the clouds now. From up here, the fields look postcard-sized, the six-foot-wide gulches like tiny trickles. I can barely make out the herd down near the mouth of the valley. The huts scattered all about the Patches look like soda cans. I’d say this is two thousand feet—easy.
I turn and look behind me, at the archway, which rises twenty-five or thirty feet above me, and at the area around it. The plateau looks no larger than a spacious great room, but the moon has gone behind the clouds again, and I can’t see the space well.
“Finley?”
“Up here!”
I look up.
“Atop the archway.”
I crane my neck, and sure enough, I think I see a shadow up there.
“What the fuck?”
“Don’t try to climb it, Homer. You’re quite a bit too large. The column might break. Just go back down.” I hear her airy laugh. “Or I suppose if you’re the foolish sort, you could attempt it.”
The arch’s “legs” are maybe three or four feet in diameter. They’re grooved, and actually they look pretty sturdy. I chuckle as I wrap my arms and legs around one. Even as I get started, I know it’s not a good idea, but…fuck…can’t hurt to try. I’m a pretty fucking competent climber—I summited the Matterhorn, Kilimanjaro, and Denali in an off year before college—so I press forward, grapping for each divot for my hands and feet.
By the time I near the top of the thing, the rain has petered to a sprinkle, a little bit of moonlight is beaming through the clouds, and I’m sweating like a motherfucker. My foot is wedged into a crevice that doesn’t feel quite steady, and my hand aches as it clings to a groove that’s barely big enough for one finger. To get up to the top of the arch, I’ll need to put all my weight on the unsteady nook under my left foot and grab something else with one of my hands.
Fuck me.
I grip my handhold tightly, even tucking my chin against the cold, wet stone, and find a spot that feels pretty decent for my right foot. Then, with my hand stretched up toward a notch in the stone, I shift my weight to my left foot and lunge.
The rock crumples so fast I don’t have time to readjust my grip. I slide halfway down the column, my palms getting sliced to shit as I grasp for another hold. My mind see-saws between plans to spread-eagle myself—in hopes of landing solid on the plateau—or go ahead and tuck, because odds are, when I hit the plateau, having fallen twenty or so feet, momentum’s gonna make me roll on down the slope.
Then my fingers catch on something. Fuck—I’ve got a hold.
“Declan!” She’s above me. “There’s a metal bar! By your left hand—stretch up a bit—maybe three inches! There’s a metal bar, you see it glinting? There’s metal bars all in the arch for climbing! Just hang on until you get your footing!”
I straighten that hand, my right one shaking with the effort to hold on. I feel around where she said to, and my fingertips brush something hard and cool.
“That’s it! Grab that!”
Gritting my teeth, I grab onto the little metal bar. So that’s how she climbed up without falling.
“You’ve got to find another spot for your feet.”
No shit, Sherlock. My arms scream; my right shoulder is blazing. I’m going to fall. I try to find a spot for my foot—there’s one—but it crumples. I let my body dangle as she screams. When my legs are slightly bent and my soles feel parallel with the plateau, I relax and let go.
I land on the balls of my feet—the impact gets me mostly in the shins and ankles, making me yell out—and tuck into a roll. Then I spread out like a starfish to slow down. Rain hits me at a bunch of different angles as I tumble, gaining momentum. Something smashes into my cheek. Shit fuck! Stars float in my eyes, and then I’m on my back, the hard rain blurring everything. I’m laughing from adrenaline, even as it makes my face throb.
