rope would shift dynamically with the load and the line of decent, keeping weight evenly distributed on the anchors.
Luiz knew what he was doing. It was a redundant system. Nothing attached to only one anchor or only one piece of rope or webbing. All knots and carabiners were backed up with a second. If anything failed, another part of the system would take over. In theory.
Luiz stepped back and gazed over the system. He moved forward and tugged at a rope, then another. Suddenly, he stopped and abruptly turned. “Okay, which one of you has rock rescue experience?”
Jack raised a hand. “That would be me.”
“Figured as much. Trained in all facets of this kind of rescue?”
“Yes.”
“When was the last time you operated a z-rig raising system?”
“Oh . . . maybe ten years ago. Maybe fifteen. Somewhere in there.”
“Were you an expert at it?”
“It’ll come back to me.”
Luiz’s eyes sank deep in their sockets. He faced the canyon and rubbed his eyes. He spun around. “Okay, you’re at the end of the rope.”
“But . . . ,” Jack said, looking toward the edge. It fell away to nothing. “Luiz, I’d be better on the raising system.”
“Ever been rescuer on a big wall rescue?”
“Not as big as this!”
“But you have?”
“Long time ago. Max of about two hundred feet, maybe three.”
“Not important,” Luiz muttered. “Two hundred, two thousand, it’s all the same.” He dug into a green canvas bag, pulled out a climbing harness, and walked it over. He held it out.
“Luiz, I’m not the right guy.”
He sighed. “You are. Only two of us have any experience whatsoever. One of us has to go over that edge. The other has to stay up here and run the lowering and raising systems. The more complicated job is here. The guy who goes down on that rope has to know he can trust the other guy to get him down there and back. You can trust me.” Luiz smiled. “No offense, but I’m sure as hell not trusting you.”
Chapter 3
Luiz tugged at the rope and groaned. “This isn’t right.”
The words sank in and Jack turned, suppressing a shudder.
Luiz probed at the knot. It came easily undone. “Who did this?” No one answered. “Who tied this knot?”
Foss raised a hand.
“Get your head out and get over here.”
Foss picked his way across the slope.
“Watch. This is how you tie a bowline.”
Foss watched him methodically retie the knot and hold it out for inspection. No time for reassurances, Luiz turned his attention to the knot at the end of load rope.
“Looked good to me,” Foss said, in Jack’s direction. He flashed a smile, turned, and worked his way back to where he’d been.
“Inspect all you want, Luiz,” Jack said, laughing nervously. “No rush.”
“That’s not what the guy over the edge is thinking.”
Jack watched his fingers trace the rope through knots, then thumb knots, and then on to equalizing ropes and anchors. He rechecked everything. No one seemed to take it personally. Only Foss saw humor in it.
Jack let his eyes fall on the caver’s rappelling rack, sitting ready to lower him down the cliff face. The rope wove in and out, around the cams on the device. His eyes widened. It’s wrong. It looked right only a moment ago. He closed his eyes and looked again, following the rope as it went around one cam, disappear behind the next, then emerge before the next, feeding in and out. Okay, it’s right. It’ll work. Quit looking.
“Listen up,” Luiz shouted. “Everyone has their role. Take your positions.”
Half the team moved into the shade of the wall, out of the way. They would not be needed during the first part of the operation, the lowering. During raising, everyone would be needed. All four of the others, all their muscles.
Foss plopped down at the lowering station, reached around and clipped himself into an anchor. Johnny settled in at the belay line.
“Luiz,” Jack shouted, and then waited as he made his way over. He whispered, “I’d rather have Johnny on the load rope.”
“Foss is bigger. He’s the bulkiest guy we got.”
“Let’s just say I trust Johnny’s training, even though it might not be much.”
“Foss said he had a little training and we’ve got Johnny on belay, but it’s up to you. You’re the man on the rope.”
“Johnny on the load rope.”
“If we need more rope and need to pass the knot, Foss will be on belay, holding everything, at least for a moment.”
Didn’t think of that. “Just keep an eye on him. Johnny on load.”
Luiz spun around. “Foss, I want you on belay. Insurance, if anything happens. Johnny, you’re on the main rope.”
Foss shook his head. He twisted around and disconnected from the anchor. Luiz pointed him over to the belay line.
Reger moved over. He clipped into the anchor, braced his feet against a rock and took hold of the rope, pulling it around his body, practicing moves to give it more friction, to stop or slow the load.
The load. Jack cringed. Johnny knew the moves, but would he be instinctive in using them?
Quit worrying. The cams on the rappelling rack do the work. Johnny’s strength is insurance. Anyone can do it. Luiz is in control.
The amount of rope coiled beside Johnny, the sheer mass of it—scary. Was it really that far down?
Jack dropped his eyes and caught sight of his shaking fingers. He ran them along the buckle of his climbing harness. Then the buckle on his helmet, then his radio harness. Everything’s fine. Still.
Luiz stepped under the safety line and clipped himself in. He studied the knot at the end of the load rope, and tested the locking carabiner. He spun around. “I need the belay line.” A young ranger carried the end of the other rope to Luiz. He clipped it into Jack’s harness, locked it down, grabbed the knot on the load rope and tugged, jerking Jack forward. “Good. Harness is tight.” He took hold of the sling draped over Jack’s shoulder. “Let’s see what you got,” he said. “Runners, several sizes. Carabiners. Good.” His eyes narrowed “What’s in the bag?”
“Harness for the victim. Helmet. A few tools.”
