Naked Edge (46 page)

"You're lying. Kat, check his backpack."

That's when Gabe felt the snow beneath him shift with a deep, almost imperceptible
whomp!
And he realized that he and Webb weren't just near the edge of the cliff but past it, their combined weight resting on an overhanging cornice of snow. And that cornice was about to give way.

KAT FELT THE mountain move beneath her feet like the subtle shifting of sand. And then Gabe was shouting to her, running toward her, motioning for her to move.

"Get back! Get back as far as you can! Run!"

Not sure what was wrong and yet trusting him completely, Kat turned and ran as fast as she could in snow that rose above her knees, using the ski pole she still held to help her balance, icy air burning her lungs. But she hadn't run far when the rope brought her up short. She looked over her shoulder, saw Gabe on the ground, Webb's hands holding tightly to Gabe's harness.

Then she heard a
whoosh!

And all at once Kat was yanked off balance onto her side and dragged headfirst across the snow toward the cliff's edge. But what she'd thought was the cliff's edge was gone--and Gabe with it.

Knowing they would both fall if she couldn't somehow stop herself from sliding, she rolled onto her back, sat up, and dug the heels of her boots in deep. But it wasn't enough, her heels channeling through the powder, the darkness that marked the gaping chasm just ahead of her, the edge rushing toward her.

Then she remembered the ski pole. She took it with both hands, thrust it into the snow at an angle, throwing all of her weight onto it, the pain in her broken wrist tearing a scream from her throat, the snow still rushing by beneath her.

Momentum flipped her onto her belly again, her body coming to rest almost directly on top of the ski pole, which suddenly caught--and held.

Kat jerked to a stop. Out of breath, almost sobbing with relief, she held on to the ski pole, pressing it down into the snow with every ounce of her strength. The harness bit into her hips, Gabe's precious weight on the other end. "G-Gabe?"

He didn't seem to hear her.

Her heart still hammering, she glanced back over her shoulder--and almost screamed. Her boots were no more than ten feet from the edge.

Beneath her, the rope jerked, and she felt the ski pole slip several inches, then catch again. Dread curled in her stomach. If the ski pole came free, if it slid much farther ...

Then she heard Webb's voice. "Did you feel that? She's slipping. I guess we're all going to die together tonight."

Webb was on the rope, too?

"Sorry, Webb, but hanging with you isn't what it used to be."

The rope jerked violently, and there came the dull sound of fists meeting flesh. The ski pole began to bend.

"Gabe!" She whispered his name.

More blows. The rope twisted. The ski pole bent more--and gave a small slip.

"No! No! No!" Webb pleaded, then screamed, the sound dropping away, then ending abruptly.

Kat squeezed her eyes shut, the thought of what had just happened rousing dark memories, putting her stomach into free fall. And she started to sing again.

GABE LOOKED UP, saw that he was about twenty feet below the edge of the cliff. He could hear Kat singing and knew she must be terrified. He couldn't blame her. They'd both come close to dying, and it wasn't over yet. The slippage had slowed, but it hadn't stopped. He could feel it.

Inch by inch, he was pulling Kat over the edge with him.

"Kat, can you hear me?"

"Y-yes!"

"Webb is dead! I'm going to climb up to you. Find a way to dig in! Try not to slide!"

"There's nothing more to dig in with! The ski pole is bending!" For the first time today, he heard true panic in her voice, and he suspected she was remembering the last time the ground had disappeared from beneath her feet.

"Hang on, honey! I'll be quick."
I hope.

What Gabe wouldn't give for a set of ice tools and some crampons. Or a headlamp. Or a damned helicopter. Darcangelo would know something was wrong because Gabe hadn't checked in, but would he send help?

Willing his mind to focus, Gabe drew off his gloves and dropped them. This wasn't going to be easy. He couldn't see details of the rock face in the dark, so he couldn't see where the holds were. He'd have to feel his way up and hope he didn't climb himself into a dead end. At least he didn't have far to go.

You can do this, Rossiter.

He felt his way over the cold, slick rock and felt his stomach sink. There was very little exposed rock, most of the cliff face covered in verglas--a slick patina of brittle ice that made rock climbing treacherous under the best conditions. He extended his arms out to both sides as far as he could reach and then upward over his head.

There. At one o'clock. A little crack.

Barely wide enough for his fingertips, it felt like a lifeline. Ignoring the cold, he nudged his fingers into the fissure, only to feel more ice. If he'd had an ice screw, he'd have screwed it in, clipped into it, and gotten his weight off the rope. But his fingers weren't steel.

The knife!

He drew it out of his pocket and began to jab at the ice with the blade.

The roped slipped, and Kat screamed.

Gabe felt himself drop, the fissure now beyond his reach. Son of a bitch! "Hang on, Kat! Just a little longer!"

Starting from scratch, he tucked the knife away and quickly found a small nub for his left foot, the fingers of his right hand catching a crimper. He put his weight into the holds--only to feel the toehold crack and give way.

Verglas, not rock.

In the dark, he couldn't tell the difference.

Shit!

He tried again, feeling down around his knees for something his toes might be able to catch. Nothing but slick ice.

Son of a bitch!

He looked up. "I'm going to try climbing the rope. If you can hold on, I'll be up in less than a minute."

He'd hoped to avoid this. His weight would make the rope swing, putting more stress on the ski pole and increasing the risk that it would slip or bend. He'd wanted to find a way to take his weight off the rope. Then Kat would have been able to crawl forward and dig in again, taking up the slack in the rope. They'd have been able to inch their way to safety. But that wasn't going to happen. He needed to act, and he needed to act fast. His fingers were quickly going numb from cold, and Kat, already hypothermic, wouldn't be able to hold on much longer.

"Nice and easy, Rossiter." He reached up, grabbed the rope between both hands and pulled himself upward, keeping his motions smooth to prevent the rope from swinging. He reached up again, drew himself up higher.

Then Kat screamed, and the rope slipped again, fast this time--then caught. Gabe looked up and saw the toes of her boots jutting out over the edge.

And he knew it was no good.

He thought of all the times he'd risked his life since Jill's death, climbing without ropes or a helmet, defying gravity, daring the rock to defeat him. He'd redpointed routes no one else would touch, set speed records, free-soloed his way into climbing history, and none of it had meant anything to him because life had no longer meant anything to him. And now when he had everything to live for--on what was the single most important climb of his life--he couldn't scale a distance of twenty-five feet.

But he wouldn't let Kat die.

He drew the knife out of his pocket, a sense of calm settling over him. At least he'd lived long enough to die for a good reason. "Kat, can you hear me?"

"Y-yes!"

"When this is over, I want you to dig through Webb's pack and look for anything you can use to keep warm and stay awake--food, a space blanket, hand warmers. Then I want you to find his cell phone and call for help. Darcangelo already knows something's wrong because I didn't check in, but if you call, he'll get here sooner. Stay awake no matter what it takes, do you hear me? And stay away from this edge. Find a way to get out of the wind and take shelter till rescuers find you."

"B-but what about--" She gasped, screamed as the rope slipped again.

Gabe cut faster. "This isn't going to work, honey. I'm just pulling you down with me, so you're going to have to go on without me."

"Wh-what? I-I don't understand. W-without you?"

"All you have to do tonight is survive, Kat. Do you hear me? Stay alive! You can do this. You're strong. You're the strongest, bravest woman I've ever known. What you went through tonight--you kept us both alive. Be strong just a little longer!"

Perhaps she could feel the tug of the knife on the rope, or maybe she'd put two and two together.

"No, Gabe! Don't do this! I can hold on! I'll hold on as long as it takes! We'll find a way! Please don't! Don't leave me! I love you!"

But even as she cried out for him the rope slipped again. There were so many things he wanted to tell her, so many things he hadn't taken the time to say, but it was too late for that. Only one thing mattered now.

He forced the words past the lump in his throat, words he should have already spoken. "I love you, Katherine James. I love you with everything I am. You're the best thing that's ever happened to me. Remember that."

"No, Gabe, please! Don't do this! I need you! Let me save you!"

He looked up, wishing to God he could touch her. "You already have."

Steeling himself--how much could it hurt to die, anyway?--he pushed the knife through the last bundle of fibers and let himself go, Kat's scream following him into oblivion.

KAT LOOKED OUT over the edge into the abyss, her face wet with tears, the grief inside her so strong it felt like physical pain. She cried his name again, her voice now a hoarse croak. "Gabe!"

No answer.

He was gone. He'd cut the rope. He'd cut it with the knife she'd carried all day, the knife she'd given him. He'd sacrificed his life to save hers. Now, he was gone, his body lying broken down there, somewhere in the cold and dark.

She wished she could go to him. She wished she could at least put a blanket over him. She wished she could sit beside him until help arrived. Her grandmother wouldn't like her being so near a dead body, but at least he wouldn't be alone.

"Gabe!" She sobbed his name through chattering teeth.

She'd realized what he'd meant to do, but she'd been helpless to stop him. One moment he'd been there, talking to her, reassuring her, telling her he loved her, and the next he'd been gone, his weight no longer pulling on the rope. He hadn't cried out, hadn't screamed. He'd fallen silently into the darkness.

No, Gabe! Don't do this! I can hold on! I'll hold on as long as it takes! We'll find a way! Please don't! Don't leave me! I love you!

I love you, Katherine James. I love you with everything I am. You're the best thing that's ever happened to me. Remember that.

No, Gabe, please! Don't do this! I need you! Let me save you!

You already have.

Again and again, she heard her own desperate cries, then his quiet replies, the terrible beauty of what he'd done for her shattering her heart. He'd died a warrior's death, giving his life for hers. And for a time--she couldn't say how long--she lay there, unable to move, unable to cry, almost unable to breathe.

Then gradually, she became aware that she was breathing, her breath rising in a mist before her face, her heart beating, her body shivering from the cold.

She was alive.

Because of Gabe she was alive. And no matter how impossible it seemed, no matter how much it hurt, she had to stand up, turn her back on this place, and go on without him. It was the only way to survive, and survival was the only way she could honor his sacrifice. She had the rest of her life to grieve for him.

She drew in a shaky breath.
"H-hagoonee', Gabe. Ayor anosh'ni.
I love you."

Remembering what Gabe had told her to do, she sat, scooted back from the edge, then stood, shuffling through snow back to the snowmobile, her legs stiff and slow. There in the sled, next to the place where Gabe had lain, sat Webb's backpack. She opened it with her right hand, then searched through it, pulling out whatever she thought she might need--a sleeping bag, a flashlight, granola bars, a Nextel phone, little tins of food, a chocolate bar. Then she kicked his skis and the one remaining ski pole out of the sled, climbed into it, and crawled into the sleeping bag.