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Donovan Fletcher is a man who makes terrible decisions under pressure, and this time his decision may have left devastation on a scale even he would’ve never imagined possible. That monster has an easy death. His mouth still gapes from laughing when he hits the ground.
I’ve seen wars, I’ve seen despicable things done to human beings, but how do you deal with this? Witnessing a victory of an enemy who may have single-handedly taken everything from you?
No. Donovan Fletcher hasn’t won!
I won’t let him, and I won’t pay attention to that carcass anymore.
“Where’s she?” I shout, looking around.
“Clay…” Wyatt’s voice hints at how desperate the situation is, but I know he’s still fighting alongside me. He’s flying the chopper along the outline of the cliff.
“Where’s she!” He’d better not say that she’s at the bottom of the canyon.
“Clay!” Blake calls. “Over there!”
I see her clinging. Although the cliff is almost vertical, the surface is uneven, with big rocks and vegetation scattered around. That appears to have helped Isabelle to hang on.
“Isabelle! I’m coming!”
Her frame looks so fragile among the vast wall. But if anyone can do it, it’ll be her. She knows. A mother knows what her survival means.
There’s nowhere the chopper can land, but I’ve got to get to her. “Wyatt, fly closer.”
I don’t know how he’ll do it, but we’ve got to try.
Fletcher hired this helicopter to fetch him from this risky spot, so it’s equipped with a winch-fed cable. It’s not made for a cliff-face rescue, but it may just help us.
I hook the cable onto my harness.
Wyatt steadies the chopper a little bit on an angle so he can get close to the cliff face.
I jump, lowering myself toward Isabelle. The cable starts to spin as the length grows, and the brutal wind sways both the chopper and me.
“Clayton…” I barely hear Isabelle’s voice.
She’s still way beyond my reach.
“Isabelle, hang on.”
There’s a length of rope attached to her right wrist, and somehow it gets caught on a bulb of tussock grass. It’s not suspending her, but I think it helped slow down her fall, allowing her to grab hold of those rocks she’s hanging onto now.
“I’m coming, baby.”
Isabelle clings with her two arms, supported by one foot which only her toes perching on a small rock. Her other leg is dangling precariously. Looking at the state of it, I think it’s broken.
Seeing I’m still struggling to reach her, with the cable swaying almost out of control, Wyatt flies closer to the cliff, tilting even further.
Isabelle screams, the muscles on her arms swelling as she holds onto the rocks with all her might.
This is a terrible mistake!
“Wyatt, abort! Abort!” I yell, waving vigorously at the pilot to fly away from her.
“Clayton! Please, don’t go!” Isabelle cries desperately, clearly aware that I’m moving away.
“I’ll come back, baby. Just hold on. I’ll come back for you. I promise.” I don’t think she hears me, and with her facing the cliff, she certainly can’t see my face. But I have to do this for her. I look up. “Blake, haul me up! Come on, haul me up!”
The winch slurps the cable to bring me back up, with Blake controlling it, stopping it from spinning excessively. It feels like forever. Once on board, I unhook the cable but keep my harness on.
