Total pages in book: 127
Estimated words: 117992 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 590(@200wpm)___ 472(@250wpm)___ 393(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 117992 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 590(@200wpm)___ 472(@250wpm)___ 393(@300wpm)
Plus, once I was clipped directly to the bolt, trying to maneuver myself onto the helicopter line would be much more difficult.
“Yes,” I said. For some reason, the familiar sound of his voice brought tears to my eyes. Zach wouldn’t let anything happen to me. I knew that as well as I knew anything.
He might not have feelings for me, but he was a man of honor, of duty. The last thing in the world he’d want would be to tell our families that something had happened to me.
I reached out for one of the crevices I’d been using for stability against the wind and began to pull myself up the rock face, trying desperately not to imagine slipping and snapping the line before falling to my death on the jagged rocks below. By the time I fought the wind to get my harness even with the bolt, my muscles were shaking and my eyes were watering from the sharp gusts. I clipped myself to the bolt directly and then gathered up the damaged rope to inspect it more closely.
It had the same odd smell I’d noticed earlier, and the damage was definitely in the area where I’d spent the most time holding on to it.
I reached back for the prop gloves and examined them.
“Zach, can you put me on direct comms?” I asked, hoping to block everyone else from hearing me.
“Yeah.” There was a pause before he came back on the line. “Tell me you’re okay, Lucky.”
I nodded stupidly, as if he could see me from miles away through a storm. “I’m clipped directly to the bolt.”
“Good. Good.” He let out a breath. “We’re just waiting for a break in visibility. It’s just me, Johnny, and Tag now. Morrie and the others are back at the hangar. We’re back on the meadow ready to come as soon as we can.”
“There’s something on these ripped gloves. I think that’s what broke down the rope,” I explained. “It’s white and chalky. Kind of sticky. It has a weird smell too.”
He paused again. “Fuck. Are you sure?”
I looked back down at the gloves hanging from my belt and tried to make sure the GoPro on my helmet had a chance to record the sight just in case the rain washed it all away. “Yeah. Very sure.”
“Don’t let them touch anything else,” he said in a gruff voice.
I clenched my teeth against the desire to snap at him that I wasn’t stupid. Instead I said, “Okay.”
Another gust of wind pushed me into the rock, bumping my helmet again. I grunted and tried to brace my hands to keep from scraping my face a second time. I could still feel the sting of the first time.
“Lucky!” Zach’s voice registered in my ear. “What happened? Sit rep. Fuck. Status check.”
I had half a mind to tell him that I knew what a damned sit rep was. But I was trying my hardest to stay calm.
“Wind’s picking up,” I said. “Rain feels icy now. The rock is slick.”
My feet kept slipping off the tiny perches I tried to use as footholds to take some of the pressure off my harness. Every time my feet slipped, I worried about whether or not any of that mysterious substance had gotten onto the webbing of my harness in places I couldn’t see. I racked my brain to try and remember what I’d touched while I’d had those gloves on.
The fog had been swirling closer until I could no longer see anything around me but gray air. Sound was muffled strangely and I felt like in some ways I was the only person left on earth, even though I knew better.
I’m scared, I finally thought to myself. It’s okay to be scared.
I heard Zach’s voice muffled and distant as he most likely spoke to Tag about getting the bird in the air. I closed my eyes and tried not to panic. My training had prepared me. I needed to trust my training.
As if he could read my mind, Zach came back over comms and asked, “How’s your harness?”
A shudder of fear ripped through me when he voiced the concern out loud. I sucked in a breath. “Fuck,” I breathed, trying so hard not to move. I angled my eyes down to inspect my harness for the millionth time, but I still couldn’t see all of it. I didn’t have eyes in the back of my head or under my ass.
“Lucky! Answer me!”
I let out another sound, watching my breath fog in the cold air. “I… I don’t know… I… Zach… it’s… I can’t see anything…”
“You are fine. Do you hear me? You’re okay, Lucky. You’re fixed to a permanent bolt with the best equipment money can buy. You have emergency supplies to keep you hydrated and fueled and warm. Here’s what I need you to do. Just listen to my voice.”