raised his hands to his face.
“Now, my turn.” Jack fought back a cough. He braced his legs against the wall, and pulled. Thomas hardly budged. “Now why in hell did I think I could lift you like this?” He tried again, straining against the load. He sucked in dust, and the stench overpowered him. He spit it out. “You’re more than I can lift. I don’t have any leverage.”
Silence.
“Thomas?”
Silence. Then low, rumbling. “Can’t breathe.”
“Hold on. I’ll do something else.” He felt along the sling and found a short runner. He clipped it into the one coming from Thomas. On its other end, he clipped into the runner hanging from above, on the load rope. “Now you’re tied in. Don’t be shocked by what I’m about to do.”
Thomas coughed and let out a groan.
The dust grew thick. It stung. Jack batted his eyes. Tears welled, and gummed in their corners. He blinked hard. They refused to open. He reached into the mesh bag, and groped along the bottom. Where is it? He slid his finger along something stubby—the knife. Found it.
He fought to open his eyes. Darkness loomed over them, like evening turning to night.
He blew the dust from his lips. “Don’t panic. I’m about to cut you loose.” He grasped the knife with both hands. Can’t drop it. Carefully, he pulled out the blade and locked it in place. Unable to open his eyes, he felt among the rope and webbing. Only the tight webbing. Stay clear of the rope—or we’ll both die. He slid the knife along the tightest webbing. It splayed. He held the blade in the splay and sliced. Threads popped away, abruptly letting go. Dead weight dropped and bounced at the end of the webbing.
Thomas gasped, and broke into a cough.
The radio came on. “Jack, what was that? Everything okay?”
Jack keyed the radio. “Had to cut some webbing. We’re okay. Get us out of here.” He pulled his hand off the radio. “Thomas, keep your mouth covered. I’d lower a second line for insurance, but let’s just sit tight, let the cloud pass.” He brushed the dust from his sleeve and buried his face under his arm.
Luiz came on. “We’re about to start raising.”
“Copy,” Jack muttered, his face still covered.
A muffled voice rose up from below. “Why are you here?” Thomas asked.
“What?”
“Why did you come down here? Why did you do this?”
“I was under the impression you needed a little help.”
“It could have killed you.” Thomas coughed, sounding like lung was ripping apart.
“Don’t talk now, Thomas.”
“Why did you do this?”
“I don’t get to choose what I do. That question, I should be asking you.”
The radio popped on. “Jack, we’re about to take your weight off the rappelling rack, in three . . . two . . . one.” They slid down the wall and stopped.
Now in the hands of Carl Foss. What a reassuring thought.
Minutes passed. Then Luis came on. “We’re raising.”
Jack keyed the radio. “Copy. The faster, the better.”
“Do I need to remind you how emphatic you were about being slow and deliberate?”
“I’m in no position to engage in clever conversation. But in no mood to hang out, either.” He took his finger off the transmit button. “Hang out. Good one, huh, Thomas?” He coughed.
The rope inched up the wall, tenuously, then moments of speed, then a gradual stop.
“Why are we stopping?”
“It’ll be this way all the way to the top. And get ready, we’re about to drop.”
They waited. Then the drop—about three feet. Thomas gasped.
“Get used to it. It’ll be that way all the way to the top. Up, then stop, a few feet down, and then up again. They have to lock in their gain, and stretch out the z-rig to do it again.”
They began to ascend. When it seemed they were moving quickly and smoothly, they stopped. Then dropped.
After several rounds the dust cloud seemed to diminish. Jack rubbed the dust from his face and batted his eyes, finally managing to get them open. He looked down. The cloud hung below.
Orange haze hung in the sky.
Jack contorted himself to get a look at Thomas. His helmet faced the direction of Sipapu Falls. Orange also hung in the mist at the base of the falls. Strange. All of it was strange. “Thomas, why the hell were you on that ledge?”
He didn’t answer, but turned, seemingly tracing the ledge from the falls, all the way back to its almost invisible origins in a hanging canyon.
“You okay?” Jack asked.
“Yes.”
“So why were you there?”
“Trying to help. Trying to understand. Doing something maybe it wasn’t for me to do.”
“What does that mean?”
“Nothing. I’ve said too much.”
Chapter 5
“It’s everywhere,” Jack complained. “In my hair, on my skin, my clothes, everywhere.” He pulled off his T-shirt and gave it a pop. Dust hung in the air and drifted toward the abyss. He coughed.
A young ranger stepped back to avoid the drift. “You’re alive, man. Count your blessings.”
“Not till I get some air, and not till I kick Luiz’s ass.”
“Jump in the river when we get there.”
“I’m not going to the canyon.”
“You mean we’re lugging this stuff down by ourselves?”
“You got it here.” Jack coughed and fought for a breath. “Have him give you a hand.” He nodded at Thomas and gave his shirt an-other pop.
“Sure as hell should,” the young ranger said, turning to watch the man Luiz was attending.
Thomas sat upslope, behind the safety line. Luiz swabbed alcohol on the scrapes on his nose, then taped on a piece of gauze. It glistened against his skin.
“You stay here,” Luiz said, as he stood and turned to other matters.
Jack watched as Thomas sat back and stared. Unengaged, he seemed to have
