Page 63 of Operation: Valiant Angel

“How is she?” Sloan’s voice came through his comms.

“Cold, shivering, but conscious,” he said after he’d switched his comms to transmit.

“Let’s get her up so I can take a look at her,” Sloan said.

“Can you move the car close enough to tie off to? I’m going to have to walk her up the wall and would like an assist.”

“You gonna fashion a harness with the end of the rope?” Sloan asked.

“Yeah, will tie us both in,” Wilson replied.

“Negative, can’t get the car close enough, but you’ve got the three of us as anchors. We’ll step back to assist as much as we safely can,” Jackson offered.

“Affirmative,” Wilson acknowledged. He knew it wouldn’t be easy. Going up without proper rappelling gear was a hundred times harder than going down. It required brute strength and some technique. It was hard on the body. “Rae, are you injured anyplace I should know about?”

“My right shoulder and hip hurt, and I have a lump from where I was hit on the back of my head,” she said.

“God, I’m sorry we couldn’t find you any faster than we did,” he said and then kissed her forehead.

New tears filled Reina’s eyes. “You found me. I don’t know how you did, but you did.”

“Shh, shh, please don’t cry,” he whispered while kissing her again, her forehead, her cheeks, and then he pressed his lips to hers. “Thank God we found you.” He held her close again for a moment. “Do you think you can walk? I’m going to get you out of here, over there by the wall. It’s the best spot up top to do it.”

With his help, she pulled her knees from inside the coat. She was stiff.

“Where’re your arms?” He hadn’t noticed the sleeves were empty when he found her or wrapped the blanket around her. Then he realized where they were. “Inside your coat, that’s brilliant. But here, let’s poke them back into the sleeves. I need you to hold on to me if you can when we ascend.”

He helped her to her feet and then helped her walk to where the rope dangled. She was wobbly on her feet and very stiff. He wrapped the blanket around her and sat her beside him as he wrapped and looped the end of the rope, creating a harness. He wrapped it around himself just so, around one leg, looped over the opposite shoulder, back around his waist, through his legs again and up over the other shoulder. He tied it off. “Weight check on me alone,” he transmitted. His gaze flickered to the top of the hole. There were no longer any flashlight beams pointed downward. There was only one lying beside the rope. Then he sat back on the harness with his full weight.

“Successful test,” Jackson’s voice replied. “Good to go with her weight.”

Wilson then helped her to her feet and maneuvered her, so she faced him and then he fed her legs over his and over the top of the ropes so she straddled him and laid on him, her head on his shoulder, her arms around his neck. “I need you to try to hold on, Rae,” he said. The blanket around her shouldn’t interfere with her holding on.

“I will,” she said, her voice still sounding hoarse.

“Added weight test successful. Start your climb, nice and slow,” Jackson’s voice said.

“Roger that,” Wilson advised. He reported each step he took and gave them verbal direction on the speed with which they took up the rope every step of the way, be it just right, too slow, or too fast.

When he neared the top of the hole, he felt relief. His muscles were screaming in fatigue. Where the rope was wrapped around him, even through his coat and clothing, his skin felt seared from the friction of the rope digging into his body.

“I see your head, Taco, nice and slow as you transfer your foot hold from vertical to horizontal,” Sherman, who was man number one on the rope, counseled.

“Okay, ready to transfer direction. Give me one good pull on three,” Wilson said. Then he counted. “One, two, three, now!”

He’d been teetering on the edge, one foot vertical, one on the horizontal ground, his weight leaning over the hole. The extra little pull propelled him the rest of the way up. He transferred his weight and Rae’s forward and then stumbled a step or two before he got both feet beneath him on the solid ground. Successful and a few steps forward of the hole, he dropped to his knees. By the time he lowered her to the ground in front of him, the team had rushed forward.

“Get her into the car where it’s warm,” Wilson said with a ragged, breathless voice. “Undertaker, she’s probably going to need fluids. There was nothing down there, no bottles or food wrappers.”

Jackson scooped her up, and he rushed her to the backseat of the car. He laid her on the seat and then Sloan crowded in. Jackson went to the front seat and started the car, turning the heat to hot and the fan on high. Meanwhile, Sherman helped free Wilson from the mock harness he’d crafted.

By the time Wilson got to the car, entering on the opposite side of Sloan, the inside felt toasty. Sloan had a second blanket around her. Wilson slid her upright slightly, resting her head and shoulders across his thighs. “Rae, I’m not sure if you remember Sloan. He was on the plane back from Norfolk. He’s a team medic.” Then he turned his attention to Sloan. “She’s freezing and her voice was hoarse. I gave her some water.”

Reina stared at the man, vaguely remembering him. He’d checked her shoulder on the plane and gave her a couple pain pills to swallow.

“Hi Rae,” Sloan said. “How do you feel?”

“Not sure,” her voice squeaked. “Better now that I’m up here.”

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