Page 43 of Canyon of Deceit
She’d panic at the thud of my heart against my chest. I’d advised other Rangers that healthy respect of danger wasn’t a bad trait. Experience had taught me the sensation helped us choose our steps wisely and built our self-esteem in a healthy way. I needed to take my own advice.
Therese’s third and fourth footings met with success. This trail deserved a blue ribbon as the worst I’d encountered. Chandler had outsmarted us once, but he’d soon have his hands full with armed FBI agents and Rangers. My headspace stayed in think-mode, while she took each slow step with assurance.
Sundown would come early, and no one wanted to be caught hiking at night. A reality check said the team behind us might not make it to us until the morning. Better in one piece and late than dead and unable to help Alina.
Therese reached the midway point to a plateau about twenty-five feet up. A burst of wind blew me off-balance. Stones, sand, and debris pelted my face and irritated my eyes.
I took a step backward.
My right foot slipped.
My left foot failed to anchor me, as though I steadied myself on rolling marbles. I clawed my hands and fingers into whatever I could grab while sharp edges of rock scraped into my face and hands. I twisted my body to roll the descent and protect myself, but I lost control and bounced like a rag doll.
A surreal mix of truth and wrenching panic surrounded me as I plummeted. If not so stubborn, I’d call out to God for help.
Therese’s frantic shouts drowned in my ears.
I’m going to die.
I dropped hard against rock, and my lower left arm cracked. My head seared with a heavy throb. Overwhelming darkness claimed my battered body.
TWENTY-TWO
THERESE
Blane had vanished below the rock overhang, and a surge of hot and cold blew against me. Had he hurtled to his death?
“Blane? Blane?” My call to him was met with eerie echoes.
Please, God, he’s got to be all right. Give him strength to survive.
I climbed down to the trailhead where we first talked about the strenuous hike. Once my foot slipped on the loose stones. I breathed in and out. Like he’d asked of me, like I’d asked of others who’d fallen prey to the inability to control their surroundings. But my concern was for Blane.
I dropped to my knees and leaned over to study where he lay sprawled out, his left face on a narrow ledge. A mass of rust-colored hair caught my attention, then blood. I inhaled sharply at the awkward position of his left arm. How had he managed to stop himself on that rock slab? Had to be God’s mercy.
“Blane, I’m right above you. Can you hear me?”
Nothing.
I repeated my question. No response.
Reacting emotionally solved nothing. I unsnapped my pants pocket to retrieve my phone. “Don’t try to move. I’m calling the SAR and Rangers.” Not sure if my words were to reassure him or me. My phone in hand, a horror-filled click and hiss alerted me to arattler. How? Normally they were active early in the morning and at dusk. I dared not move.
From the corner of my eye, a black-tailed rattler coiled three feet to the right of where my fingers wrapped around my phone. Deadly. Ready to strike.
Slowly releasing my phone, I eased my knife from inside my right hiking boot and aimed it at the snake’s head. It opened its mouth to strike. I jerked while sinking the knife deep into the rattler’s head and knocked into my phone, sending it slapping against rock to the bottom of the canyon.
As I held my breath, the snake ceased to move. The deadly creature’s venomous days were over. I yanked my knife out of its head and kicked the snake to its ancestors.
I fought the urge to cry.You idiot!How could I arrange a meetup with the FBI and Rangers without my phone?
Guilt assaulted me, messing with my thoughts. Blane’s fall and the pain he endured couldn’t be eased until I rescued him. I managed a prayer. I clung to the promise of His strength when I was weak. I’d climb down to Blane, treat his injuries, and pull him up. I’d use his phone to call Major Montoya.
I wrapped my hand around the rope in my backpack and secured it to a sturdy boulder. A familiar maneuver, so why did I shake like a leaf? I tied a bowline knot around the huge rock and another around my waist, then rappelled down the approximately twenty-five feet to where Blane lay. Barely a foot of space existed between his body and the ledge leading to a canyon fall.
His left forearm twisted at an angle midway below his elbow, but thankfully the bone didn’t protrude through the skin. I’d straightened and set broken bones in the past, and I’d do it again. But blood stained the rock where his face had hit.
“Blane.” No answer. “Blane, I’m right here beside you.”
