“Bad and getting worse. You still on the wall?”
“Yeah.”
“The wind’s picking up. You better get off as best you can. It feels like a storm coming. We’ll head back to intercept you. If that fails, make for Taft Lodge instead of going back up Profanity. Things are a little better on the east face.”
Smith signed off and looked up at me. “You should be in the middle. You got the least experience.”
I was standing behind Mike, who expressed what I was thinking, “Already can’t see the ledge, Gary. We start switching places, we could all go off.”
Smith nodded unhappily, saying softly, almost apologetically, “Wish we had some rope.”
The going was slower than I’d imagined it would be. I’d envisioned the equivalent of climbing backward down a ladder with my eyes shut, but this wasn’t close to being that easy. Each move was punctuated by the fear of slipping, each tentative groping for a foothold accompanied by the doubt about what, in fact, was being trusted with my weight.
And in the midst of such uncertainty, the wind grew harder, now pushing snow ahead of it.
And making everything much colder.
When I slipped and fell, I had no real sense of it at first. I merely extended my boot as I’d been doing all along, and felt nothing. For a fraction of a second, still unaware that my hands were no longer holding the cliff, I began to simply look for another perch with my toe. And then my body hit something hard, and I knew I was in freefall.
It didn’t last long. A couple of jars, dulled by my heavy clothing, and then a single, stunning smack to the head.
Followed by nothing at all.
Chapter 6
I don’t know how long I lay there. It was dark, pitch black, and I was so cold at first I had trouble moving. My head also hurt, although not as badly as I thought it should, for which I figured I had the frigid temperature to thank.
But useful or not for headaches, the cold was about to kill me. I knew that before I’d even confirmed that all my parts were functional and intact. As soon as I opened my eyes, and heard the screaming of the wind, I realized most of my body was almost totally numb.
I didn’t worry about the others. They were either alive or not, either safe or in peril. I also didn’t think about how I’d come to be lying in the snow at night alone, seemingly abandoned by people who more than most were trained to work as a team. My only thoughts were about survival and how to attain it. It was the same kind of focus I’d encountered in combat, when the enormity of the threat comes second to the will to live.
I tried standing at first, more to see if I could than to actually start walking anywhere. I had no flashlight and knew that even if I had, it wouldn’t have done much good. But the point was moot in any case-the wind threw me to my knees before I got halfway up.
I felt around me. Like Jean Deschamps, I’d created a hole where I’d landed, although blessedly less deep, and so decided to finish what I’d unwittingly begun by digging not just down but to the side as well, hoping to end up with a cave of sorts.
It wasn’t easy going. I couldn’t see, couldn’t feel with my hands, and I wasn’t even sure if I was burrowing in the right direction. It occurred to me that if I’d landed on a slope and was tunneling downhill, my reward would be to eventually reemerge back into the storm.
But I got lucky. After what felt like hours, I not only began feeling comfortably entombed, sheltered from both the wind and its incessant, biting howl, but I was warmer as well, my exertions having pushed blood if not to my fingers and toes, at least most of the way there.
It was only then that I thought beyond the immediate and remembered the radio.
I pulled it awkwardly from my pocket, fumbling with hands that felt like useless claws, and finally succeeded in depressing the transmit button, the small red light on top of the radio giving me a curious, instant comfort.
“Gunther to Mountain Rescue. Anyone out there?”
The response was instantaneous. “Jesus, Joe. That you?” Ray Woodman’s voice betrayed a relief he’d obviously all but abandoned.
“One and the same.”
His next question was more hesitant. “How’re you doing?”
It was a professional’s concern. In his place, I might have asked where I was. Knowing the futility of that, he was more interested in how long I might last.
“Okay so far. I hit my head, but I don’t think there’s any damage. I’ve dug a snow cave, so I’m out of the elements. Can’t feel my hands or feet.”
There was a telling pause.
“Where are you guys?” I asked, more to quell my own anxiety than out of any curiosity.
“Taft Lodge. The weather totally shut down the mountain. After you fell, Mike injured his ankle. Gary tried to find you, but I ordered him to take care of Mike. As it was, we had to go back and get them-they were already lost in the storm. Dumb luck they even made it.” There was another long hesitation. “I’m sorry, Joe. I had to save who I could.”
I understood what he was going through, and could only imagine the efforts he’d expended. Good news that it was, my returning from the dead was also like the resurgence of a guilt-evoking ghost. “Don’t worry about it. I would’ve done the same thing.”
“Well, we’re in good shape now,” Woodman came back with forced optimism. “The storm shouldn’t last too much longer. You just stay hunkered down there, and we’ll come get you as soon as we can. I got someone who’d like to talk to you. After that, we better conserve our batteries. And put the radio next to your body if you can,” he added.
I waited for a moment and then heard Sammie’s voice-small, worn, and worried. “Hi, boss. How’re you doin’?”
“Not bad-kind of making like a bear.”
Again, there was a long silence. I knew she’d already been dealing with my death and now was groping with my resurrection. If I’d correctly judged Woodman’s false nonchalance about the storm’s length and ferocity, she was also contemplating losing me all over again. Stowe Mountain Rescue was famous throughout the state for braving weather other people called lethal, especially if the lost person was a colleague. But they were buttoned down now.
Things were really bad out there.
I tried to ease her distress a little. “Sam, thanks for asking, but we’d better follow Ray’s advice for now. Keep warm and I’ll see you in a bit.”
I took my finger off the transmit button and watched the red light die, wondering how long it would take me to do the same.
Chapter 7
It was snowing-the kind of fat, lazy flakes kids love to catch on their tongues. It came down gently, incessantly, softening the view of the hospital parking lot and crossing the window with a soothing, lulling monotony. It was all I could do to turn away at the sound of the door opening.
Gail stood on the threshold, watching me, her expression a mixture of concern and irritation.
I tried stacking the deck by giving her a big smile. “Hey, there.”
It had the opposite effect. She frowned and said, “Why’s it always you who gets banged up? Couldn’t you let someone else go first, just once in a while?”
“I was last in line this time, and someone else did get hurt.”
She shook her head. “I heard-a twisted ankle.”
Still, she came across the room to the bed and kissed me long and tenderly.
“You’re a pain in the neck, Joe Gunther,” she added after straightening up. She dragged a chair over to where she could sit within reach.
I hit the control button by my head and moved the bed to a more upright position. “You didn’t ask how I was feeling.”
She smiled grudgingly. “God, just like a kid. I know how you’re feeling. I just spent fifteen minutes with your doc getting the lowdown, and half an hour before that being briefed by Sammie Martens on the phone. It’s a miracle all you got was hypothermia-you should’ve at least lost some toes or fingers. You need to do something about that girl, by the way. She’s a walking grenade-steel on the outside and a wreck inside. If you ever do get yourself killed, she’ll go to pieces.”