Page 33 of Calla's Boys

“Let’s go,” he says, and we begin walking.

The pace is agonizingly slow, but necessary for all of our safeties. We’re all still joined by the safety ropes, but that’s more of a precaution than a guarantee, especially now we have injured members in our party of five.

Billy and Jesse take the rear, managing to stay close as we begin walking farther up the mountainside.

Internally, I’m cursing myself for having and indulging this hiking plan we concocted while the other two were having their fun with Calla.

This hasn’t been the adventure we were hoping it would be, though there has been no shortage of risk or excitement—it’s a far cry from what we’d planned for.

Calla isn’t heavy to lift and carry, but right now, when we’re already weighed down with equipment, being unconscious means she’s practically dead weight.

I can feel in my lungs how thin the air is, and it’s making this trek even more difficult than it should have been.

There’s no way we’d leave her behind, so I grit my teeth and force myself to breathe in a way that doesn’t make me too dizzy to support her.

I don’t know how long we’re walking with her in our arms like this, but the sun is creeping lower and lower. If we don’t keep up this pace, it'll be dark before we reach the waypoint.

I want to be off this trail before then. The sun is casting a red glow in the sky, and I wish we could stop for a minute to take in the way it changes the view.

Hopefully we’ll still get to enjoy the final rays when we get to the waypoint. None of us speak for a while; too busy concentrating on the journey and the precarious situation we’ve found ourselves in.

As we carefully maneuver around a large boulder that’s obscuring our view of the path, I breathe a sigh of relief to see the wide, flat ledge that’s going to be our refuge for the night.

Clyde leads us to the back of it, as far away from the edge as we can get, and we finally stop. Carefully, we lower Calla to the ground, and I sit next to her.

We’re both sweating and breathing heavily from overexertion, which isn’t ideal at this height.

“We made it,” Jesse says, half collapsing on the ground and leaning his back against the rocky wall.

Clyde hasn’t stopped to rest. Instead, he’s pulling out one of the pop-up tents from his bag and is now securing it to the ground with the pegs and guy ropes.

Groaning, I reluctantly get back to my feet and help him. Between us, we quickly get our little camp set up. We’ve got two small tents, each big enough for two of us, and Calla to fit comfortably inside. Technically they’re two-man tents, but chances are that Calla will be snuggled up closely in one of them with us.

Once we’re all set, Clyde goes back to Calla and lifts her into his arms, carrying her into our tent. I follow him inside, and he’s slowly stripping her of all her clothing.

Though unconscious and potentially injured, I still find myself appreciating how completely stunning Calla is.

Despite trying to be as methodical and impartial as possible due to her current condition, I can tell that Clyde isn’t unaffected either.

Calla moans a little, and my heart jolts with relief at the sound. I’m hoping that it means she’s slowly coming round, and when she does, then she can tell us if she’s hurt and where.

In the meantime, all we can do is visually assess her and make sure she’s comfortable until she wakes up.

After thoroughly checking her for injuries, I help Clyde tuck her into one of the sleeping bags we brought with us. Once she’s settled, we both sit down on either side of her.

“I think she’s going to be okay,” he says quietly, his tone betraying the worry in his voice despite the optimism in his words.

“I think so, too,” I agree, leaning forward to brush a few strands of hair out of her eyes.

We both fall silent, just watching her even breaths and the way her chest moves rhythmically with each one.

Jesse and Billy are outside, talking and presumably setting up the rest of our camp.

After a while of no change in Calla, I stretch out my legs and get to my feet.

“Let’s get something to eat. We can’t do anything more for her right now,”I suggest.

Clyde shakes his head. “I’ll be out in a bit, I think someone should stay with her until she wakes up. You go first, then we can watch her in shifts. If she has a concussion or something, then one of us needs to be here so we can help her.”

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