Page 25 of Delta Mission
I am not dying today.
Reaching up, I squeezed my fingers around the rope and inched higher. I did it again. With each movement, Channing rained praise on me. His words were equally encouraging and pissing me off. I hated that he saw my weakness. But I loved it too. This was the real me, flawed and human.
Inch by painful inch, I crawled up the tattered rope.
I made it to the cave edge, and Channing touched my hand. “That’s it. You’re nearly there.”
Pride swelled inside me as I reached up again.
His smile was the one I remembered. The one I had fallen in love with.
“Now what?” I asked.
“Grab my hand, and I’ll pull you in.”
“That’s it?”
“Just do it,” he barked.
“Don’t drop me, Channing.”
“No way. I’m here to protect you, remember?” He tapped my shoulder. “Give me your hand.”
It took everything I had to convince my fingers to release my good hand. Crying out, I let go and reached for him.
My feet spilled sideways, and I screamed.
His fingers strangled my wrist. “Let go of the rope!”
“Oh, Jesus.” I did as he instructed, and my heart exploded as I dangled hundreds of feet in the air.
“Climb!”
A scream burst from my throat.
“Makenna. Look at me.”
I peered up at him.
Fear blazed in his eyes. “Calm down and climb up here. You can do it. I know you.”
Terror pierced my veins as I wedged my fingers into a tiny slit in the rocks, and staring at my dislocated pinkie, I pressed my body to the wall.
“Makenna. Fucking climb!” He just about ripped my arm out of its socket.
“All right!”
I scrambled up and with a final almighty thrust, I fell onto Channing’s legs. He pulled me into the cave.
I flopped onto my back, panting like a rabid dog. “I did it.”
His breathing was as ragged as mine. He rested his hand on my arm. “I knew you could.”
I placed my good hand over the back of his palm. “Thank you.”
He didn’t move away. We just lay there, side by side.
I could have stayed there much longer, sharing the same space with him, but a cool breeze swept down from the mountains, freezing the sweat on my body.
