the other to his belt. This way, Don’s line was just for safety.
Leaning back, he braced his boots against the wall. At the same time, he pulled on the shorter rope, climbing fist over fist. He made slow progress, walking up the wall carefully. It was a hell of an upper-body workout. He wished he wasn’t so goddamned heavy. Finally, his harness was even with the upper loop. Grasping the rope with his left hand, he used his right to clip the loop directly to his belt.
“Hold the line steady, but don’t pull on it unless this breaks,” he said to Don.
“Got it,” Don replied.
When he let go of the rope, his harness held tight, anchored to the wall by a well-placed metal square.
He exhaled a pent-up breath.
Don gave him a nod of encouragement. They both knew he had a long haul ahead of him. The safety line was no guarantee against injury. But, unlike Lauren, Don didn’t belabor those details. He understood what needed to be done.
Working quickly, Garrett placed another metal square higher in the crevice. He attached a clip, threaded the short rope through and pulled himself up.
His biceps were already burning, and he’d have to repeat this process about ten times, or every three feet. Instead of focusing on the pain and difficulty, he concentrated on the task and let his mind go blank.
It was just like running ten miles or humping ninety pounds of gear through the desert. You did it one step at a time, one foot in front of the other. Unpleasant tasks were accomplished inch by inch, end over end.
As the crevice widened, each metal square was more easily placed. The climbing became increasingly difficult, however. By the time he reached the top, he was shaking from exertion and dripping sweat.
He couldn’t celebrate his victory, or even take the flag out of his pack. Hanging from the ceiling, suspended by his harness, he rested for a moment, waiting for the feeling to come back into his hands.
Glancing over his left shoulder, he saw that Jeb’s corner was still and quiet. He hoped it would stay that way.
Lauren had joined Don at the end of the rope. That was good. If he fell, they would both have to bear his weight.
Although she didn’t say anything, he could read the concern on her face. Garrett didn’t blame her. He’d made it all the way up here, and now he didn’t know if he could hang the damned flag, let along climb back down.
He took a drink of tepid water and tried to reenergize. At boot camp, one of his instructors had stressed the importance of a healthy imagination. He’d claimed that Marines who could visualize a happy place during their downtime were better able to deal with the trials and tribulations of deployment.
Garrett’s favorite coping mechanism was fantasizing about sex. There was no happier place than between a woman’s legs.
He pictured Lauren writhing underneath him, her lips parted in ecstasy.
Then he took a deep breath and flexed his hands, focusing on reality. Directly above him, a strip of smoky-blue sky peeked through the crevice. The glimpse of the outside world bolstered his spirits further.
Garrett understood the benefits of sunlight better than most people. Fresh air was a precious commodity to humans in confinement. Without it, men became monsters. He knew that from experience.
He reached into his pack for the mirror. His movements were clumsy from fatigue and he fumbled, almost dropping it. The fact that he was suspended in a reclining position didn’t help. He kept his grip on the wire hanger but leaned back too far. His helmet slipped off and tumbled through the air before smashing on the ground.
Fuck.
Lauren stared at the cracked helmet in horror, as if it was his head. Even Don appeared distressed.
Garrett couldn’t afford to panic, and looking down made him feel queasy, so he returned his attention to the crevice. The rebar barrier left open spaces that were almost large enough to accommodate his hand. He slipped the mirror past the barrier and squinted at the too-bright reflection.
The sun was out. That was all he could see, and it was enough.
He didn’t want to expend too much effort looking around when his top priority was hanging the flag. Instead of removing the mirror, he pointed it upward and bent the wire around the rebar. Reflective flashes could be seen for miles. Then he took the flag from his pack and passed it through the crevice.
Don had attached the fabric to a wooden pole with a tie on one end. Garrett tied the pole to the rebar and hoped the flag wouldn’t fly away in the wind.
He had one more task to complete, which was checking for cell phone service. It was worth a shot, even though power was down all over the county. As he wrestled the phone from his pocket, he started swaying in midair.
Uh-oh.
An aftershock rumbled through the structure, ripping the phone from his hand. Concrete bits rained on his face and several metal squares popped simultaneously. He fell about ten feet, gritting his teeth as the harness caught. The force of motion sent him swinging like a kamikaze trapeze toward the far wall.
He slammed into it at full speed, cracking the side of his head. Pain radiated from his shoulder to his hip, which had taken the brunt of the impact. The last thing he heard before darkness descended was Lauren’s terrified scream.
* * *
IT TOOK EVERY OUNCE of strength she possessed to keep her grip on the rope.
Don was working just as hard as she was, if not harder, but they couldn’t hold on much longer. Garrett was so heavy. His body was slack and lifeless, head thrown back, arms and legs dangling at his sides.
What if he didn’t wake up?
Lauren shouted for Penny. They needed all the help they could get. The teenager was at her side in a split second, Cadence in tow. Both girls grabbed a section of the rope, easing the tension slightly.
It was just enough to buy them another minute.
“We have to lower him slowly,” Don said.
Lauren followed his lead. He showed her how to let out the slack in gradual measures so they wouldn’t lose control of the rope. She mimicked his motions, hand over hand. Working together, the four of them brought Garrett closer to the ground.
“Cadence, go hold his head,” she ordered. “Don’t let it hit the concrete.”
The girl released the rope and ran to Garrett, cradling both arms under his head. They lowered him the last few feet until he lay sprawled on his back.
Safe.
Lauren rushed to his side, checking his wrist for a pulse. It hammered against her fingertips, strong and steady.
He moaned, listing his head to one side.
She was so relieved to see signs of consciousness that tears sprang to her eyes. Cadence held up her hands, showing Lauren the blood on them. Lauren reached into her medical bag for moist wipes and gauze. She passed the wipe to Cadence and pressed
