Wrath & Righteousnes Episodes 01 to 05 (25 page)

But still the bolt held.

* * *

Ammon stopped his descent directly under the ledge. Hanging there, he looked over his head, his body off balance, his torso hanging back.

The outcropping had more handholds than he could see from the ground. And the ledge wasn’t quite as steep as it had appeared. The crevasse they had looked at might provide a pretty good grip,
if
Luke could reach it, which was a very big
if,
for it was a good three or four feet away from the face of the cliff. Ammon examined the overhang for thirty seconds or so, then let off more rope, bouncing from the rock as he made his way down. The last of the descent was almost a free fall through space, for the overhang kept him away from the wall and he had to balance himself carefully as he moved to the ground.

Luke was waiting, an anxious look on his face. “What do you think?” he asked quickly.

Ammon stared up at the overhang as he loosened the straps on his harness. “I’m not sure about the bolt,” he answered, ignoring the intent of his brother’s question. He jerked on the rope and suspended his weight on it by dropping to his knees as he pulled.

The rope held firm and Luke waved at the air. “Come on, Ammon, the bolt is secure. In all the times that we’ve done this has a bolt ever broken away?”

Ammon looked up, keeping his weight on the rope. “I don’t know,” he muttered. “It just didn’t feel right. Sandstone is notoriously weak, you know that Luke, and though I found a good crevasse, part of it broke away when I drove the bolt in.”

Luke hesitated. “Come on, Ammon. It’s fine. You just don’t want . . . .”

“No, Luke, really. I just want to be sure.”

“Come on!” Luke persisted. “Nothing’s going to happen. You’re turning into Mom, always worrying.”

Ammon ignored him as he jerked again, suspending all of his weight. The rope held firm and Luke huffed impatiently.

“All right,” Ammon finally said. “It seems to be OK.”

“Yeah, it’s fine,” Luke answered. “Now what about the overhang?”

Ammon looked up. “It’s going to be even harder than it looks,” he answered, lifting his arm and pointing as he talked. “There, you see that,” he motioned toward the leading edge of the overhang, “that crevasse you’re counting on to provide a handhold, it looks to be only a few inches wide, just enough to get your hand in and get a good grip. But it’s a lot wider than that, Luke, I’d say five inches or so, and it slopes downward much more than it looks like from here. You’re not going to be able to use it for a handhold like you thought that you could.”

Luke studied the small fissure and said, “But it’s got a pretty good lip there that I could hold to.”

Ammon nodded. “You could try. That’s all I can say. But listen, Luke, why can’t we just move down the rock fifteen feet or so?” Ammon pointed to his right. “Its got better handholds, it’s even, and we wouldn’t have to mess around with that overhang which is just going to make you fall.”

“So what if I fall? That’s what the safety rope is for.”

Ammon flipped the climbing rope in his hand, eighty meters of nylon and cotton. Designed to stretch under pressure, it was a good rope, expensive, and had saved both of their lives many times. He pulled on the rope as he studied the wall. “One more thing,” he continued, still hoping to talk Luke out of trying this climb, “because the rope has to extend over the edge, it will hang away from the wall. That’s going to make it harder for me to keep a proper tension on it. No big deal, I can handle that, but if you lose your grip and fall, the ledge will leave you dangling five or six feet away from the wall. Which means you’ll have to trust me to lower you to the ground.”

“No big deal, Ammon. It won’t be any harder than you repelling down.”

Ammon hesitated, then tried one last time. “I just think it’s a waste of time to try and climb over that ledge,” he concluded. “You can’t do it, Luke. No offense, buddy, but no one can pull themselves over the top of that ledge. No one. Can’t be done. So I’ll sit here for an hour and watch you try, then you’ll be exhausted and come down, and that will be it.”

“But you’ll hang with me, right? You’ll give me a chance?”

Ammon watched his brother. “You’re not going to pull a Sam on me, are you? Because both of us know what Sam would do. He’d hang on the wall and keep trying to pull himself over that ledge until he either starved to death or we pulled him down. He wouldn’t give up as long as he had any strength. He would literally fall from exhaustion before he would quit. Now, you’re not going to do that, are you? Because I really have to get to my lab this afternoon. If I’m going to be here all day holding the safety rope for you, then tell me now so I can go and buy me some lunch and a couple sodas before you get on the wall.”

Luke smiled. “I’ll give it a reasonable try. If it doesn’t work out, I’ll admit defeat, come down and we’ll try somewhere else.”

“I’m serious, Luke, I’m not going to stay here all day,” Ammon warned. “I’ll tie the rope to a tree and leave you if you drag this thing out.”

“Got it,” Luke answered.

Ammon nodded, checked his harness, then flipped the rope, moving it a couple feet to his right in order to position it where Luke wanted to climb.

* * *

As Ammon released his weight and flipped the rope, the bolt he had driven into the rock reseated itself and cocked again to the side. The rock had cracked from the pressure of Ammon’s weight, weakening the sandstone and causing microscopic fractures where the bolt had been set.

* * *

Luke moved to the base of the fifty-foot sandstone wall. Ammon stood behind him, the safety rope secured to his harness. The rope ran over the top of the wall, through the carabineer he had secured to the bolt then back down the wall where Luke had tied the other end to his climbing harness. Luke glanced behind him. “Belay on?” he asked.

Ammon flipped the rope to make certain it curled on the small carpet he had laid out behind him, then pulled out the last of the slack. “On belay,” he answered.

Luke moved to the wall. “Climbing,” he said.

“Climb on,” Ammon replied.

Luke stretched his hands over the rock, feeling for the tiny crevasses and finger holds that a non-climber would have never seen. His gummed-soled shoes were like fly paper, giving him an extraordinary sense of security against the rock. He stretched, reaching over his head and pulled himself up, using his feet and legs to support his weight as much as he could to help save his upper body strength for the ledge. As he climbed, he was extraordinarily aware of his body and used every part; his knees, his elbows, his fingers and palms, he even forced his chest against the rock in order to evenly distribute his weight. He easily climbed the first fifteen feet, using tiny protrusions as handholds and forcing his feet into thin cracks. Halfway up the rock, the wall became suddenly smooth and he had to hang on a tiny ledge while he searched for the next handhold. Scratching over his head, he felt for a crack that he could hold on to.

Ammon watched, all the time looking up. He kept the rope tight enough to break Luke’s fall, but not so tight as to interfere or help support his weight. He watched his brother search in vain for a handhold, then called up, “Luke, there’s a place to put your foot a couple of feet to your right.”

Luke stretched out his leg and tried a place or two, but couldn’t find anything that would support his weight.

“Higher up,” Ammon shouted. “If you can get your right foot on that tiny ledge beside you.”

Luke stopped and scowled down at his brother. “You must mean this ledge beside my ear!” he shouted in sarcasm.

“Come on! It’s not
that
high. You can do it, buddy, if you get your knees high enough.”

“I’m not a contortionist Ammon. How many people could lift their feet above their chest?”

“You’re exaggerating, Luke. Now come on, you can do it!”

Luke stared at the tiny ledge by his waist, hesitating. He lifted his leg a time or two, measuring the height, but his other foot almost slipped. He looked at Ammon. “Would you like to come and demonstrate?” he called down.

Ammon started to answer but Luke ignored him. After several more minutes of searching, he descended the rock a couple feet, moved two arm lengths to his right, then started climbing again. There was a better route there, with handholds enough for him to sink his fingers onto. Fifteen minutes later he had climbed up to the overhang that extended out over the face of the cliff.

“How you feeling?” Ammon asked as Luke studied the overhang directly over his head.

Luke took his free hand and dipped it in the chalk bag strapped to the back of his harness. “Little tired,” he called back. “That wore me out, getting stuck halfway up. Took a lot longer to get up here than I thought it would.”

Ammon glanced at his watch. Luke had been on the rock for almost thirty minutes. He knew Luke had to be exhausted. A less experienced climber would have fallen a dozen times by now. A beginner wouldn’t have made it ten feet up the wall. But Luke was just getting started. The most difficult part of the climb was directly over his head.

Luke craned his neck back as he held on with his fingers, his feet turned sideways to fit on a one-inch crack in the rock. Above him, the face of the cliff jutted outward at a sixty-degree angle, extending behind him for five feet or so. His hands trembled and his calves were beginning to cramp from the constant strain of holding his weight on his toes. He had to move quickly to find a way to get over the ledge or he wouldn’t have any strength left to pull himself up.

He searched in frustration, dribbles of sweat pouring down the side of his face.

* * *

Roth stood in the air beside him. “
You can do it!
” he whispered into the exhausted man’s ear. “
Ammon doesn’t think you’re strong enough, but you know that you are! Samuel could do it. Is he that much stronger than you?
”

Luke passed an exhausted hand over his eyes as he thought.

“
Sam has always been stronger
,” Roth hissed bitterly.
“He’s better at everything! But you know you can do this. Now prove that you can do this.
”

Luke looked down. His brother stared up. He clenched the fingers on his left hand against the tiny cracks in the wall, then leaned back. He clung there, suspended, barely hanging on the cliff. He moved his hand across the overhang, feeling for the crack they had identified from the ground, searching for anything he could sink his fingers into. His shoulders ached, his arms trembled, and his neck muscles cramped.

“Luke,” Ammon warned. “Be careful up there.”

“I’m okay,” he shouted.

Luke moved a few inches away from the wall and the safety rope went slack. “You got me!” Luke called as he glanced down.

“I got you!” Ammon answered as he put pressure on the rope to tighten it up. Bracing himself, he planted his feet and leaned back, anticipating Luke’s fall.

Luke gathered his strength and reached back again. He put more weight on his toes and his leg muscles cramped with excruciating knots. He stretched out his fingers and lifted one leg.
He . . . couldn’t . . . quite . . . reach . . . it!
He huffed in exhaustion, then shifted his weight to his left foot, and lifted up on his toes again. He clawed overhead and behind him. He could see the crack there, but it was two . . . inches . . . too . . . far.

Two inches. Might as well be two feet. He wasn’t going to make it.

* * *

Jump!
” the dark angel told him. “
Let go of the wall. You can do it, Luke! You have the rope to catch you. Jump! You won’t get hurt even if you fall!
”

* * *

Luke stretched out again, almost at the end of his strength. He extended his fingers.
Just . . . a . . . few . . . more . . . inches!
He dropped his head and looked down, relieving the cramps in his neck, then gathered his strength and repositioned himself on a tiny ledge on the cliff.

“You got me, right?” he called down to Ammon.

Ammon looked worried. “Come on, Luke,” he answered. “Let’s call it quits.”

Luke shook his head. Not when he was this close!

He looked back up and stretched a final time for the handhold he had been reaching for.

It was simply too far.

He only had two choices now. It was jump or climb down.

He made his decision and swallowed hard.

He braced himself against the wall as he gathered his strength, then leaped for the rock while twisting in midair, extending both hands, stretching them as far as he could reach over his head.

He grasped the crack with the fingertips of his right hand, and he hung there, suspended, his feet swinging wildly through the air. He flailed with his other hand, forcing it against the crack in the wall, scratching and pawing desperately for something to grab.

Ammon braced himself below him, waiting to absorb the weight of his fall.

Luke almost screamed from the pressure on his arm. The adrenaline shot through him and he clawed like an animal with his free hand. As he pawed at the rock, tiny pieces of sandstone and dust tumbled into his eyes. Hanging by one hand, he scratched with the other, then felt a tiny crack in the rock. Stretching, he grabbed it with all the strength he had left.

He was slipping. He was exhausted.

He caught his breath as he hung there, four stories above the ground, then moved his right hand for a better handhold. He pulled himself upward and moved his left hand. Inch by inch, hand by hand, he moved upward toward the tip of the ledge. Another inch, another handhold, he moved on the overhang.

His arms ached. It was agony. He could hardly breathe. His fingers trembled with exhaustion and his shoulders knotted in pain.

He wasn’t going to make it. He couldn’t hold on any more. It took everything he had just to hang on the rock. He was growing lightheaded. His entire body was shaking and his arms were cramped in pain.

Just a few inches more. But he did not have the strength.

It was time to let go. He had tried, he had failed. Now his body was done.