Gretchen
Kirk is already halfway down, suspended between safety and disaster as far as I can tell.I can do nothing but bite my nails, literally.One crew member, a strapping young Scot with long wavy hair, sidles up to me and explains, "Going back up isn't an option.Kirk's only choice is to continue the descent, as fast as he can.The harness will catch him if he completely loses control, but he isn't the sort who never relies on safety equipment.And he's not about to start now.Kirk's reputation is built on doing the impossible without backup."
I swallow hard, my throat so dry and tight I can barely speak.But I manage to shout, "Kirk!Are you okay?"
Of course he doesn't respond.He has more important matters to deal with, like not hitting the ground so hard his body turns into sludge.
The crew chief rushes over, speaking frantically into his headset."We need to cut the remaining charges!Get the safety team in position!"
I can't breathe.Can't move.My ears are ringing, and I can barely think, what with my heart thundering as I watch Kirk clinging to that rock face.He's hanging by what looks like just his fingertips, his body swinging slightly in the wind.The floodlights cast a harsh glow on the mountainside, highlighting the determination etched into every line.
Someone grabs my elbow---the assistant director, I think."Miss, you need to step back.If something goes wrong---"
"I'm not going anywhere," I snap, yanking my arm free."And nothing's going wrong."
But even as I say it, I see Kirk grimace in pain.His left shoulder seems to hang at an odd angle.He's hurt.Watching him struggle makes me feel utterly helpless.I've never had someone I care about in actual danger before.Not like this.My parents' occasional fender benders, or that time my college roommate broke her ankle, don't compare to watching Kirk dangle from a cliff face after an explosion nearly blew him off the mountain.
"Kirk!"I scream loud enough the sound bounces off the mountains.
The next explosion should have been canceled, but something's wrong.I hear frantic shouting from the pyrotechnics team.A technician runs past me, his face pale with panic.
"The remote detonator's malfunctioning!"he yells to someone."Manual override isn't responding!"
Oh God.I press my hands to my mouth, watching Kirk's every move.He's shifting his weight, testing his injured shoulder.The determination in his expression is evident as he adjusts his strategy.No matter how many stunts I've watched him do, this is different.This is real danger, unplanned and deadly.
The pyro team leader is shouting into his radio."Everybody clear the area below!Charge five is going to blow in approximately twenty seconds!"
I'm frozen in place, watching Kirk as he begins moving with desperate speed.His injured arm seems to slow him down, but he's still making progress, traversing laterally across the rock face instead of continuing straight down.He's trying to get away from the next blast zone.
"Ten seconds!"somebody yells.
Kirk's pace quickens.I can see the strain in his movements, the way his body tenses with every handhold.He's racing against time, and all I can do is watch.
"Five seconds!"
I'm holding my breath, silently begging him to move faster, to get clear before---
BOOM!
The explosion rips through the air with a force that rattles my teeth.I stagger backward, momentarily blinded by the flash.When my vision clears, I frantically scan the rock face.
"Kirk!"His name is torn from my throat, raw and desperate.
Amid the settling dust and smoke, I catch a glimpse of movement.Kirk is still there, still clinging to the mountain, but he's moved at least fifteen feet from where the blast hit.The clever lunatic anticipated exactly where the explosion would be and got himself clear in the nick time.
The crew erupts in a mixture of relieved cheers and frantic activity.The director is shouting orders, demanding to know if there are any more charges that might go off.The pyro team is frantically checking their equipment, trying to prevent further malfunctions, I assume.The safety coordinator, Murray Clacher, is on his radio, demanding updates from the rescue team positioned at the base of the cliff.
I can't tear my eyes away from Kirk as he continues his descent with one good arm, compensating for his injury with sheer strength and will.Even in this moment of genuine danger, there's something mesmerizing about the way he moves.Every placement is deliberate, every shift of weight calculated despite the bedlam.
"Will he be okay?"I ask no one in particular.
"If anyone can make it down safely with a busted shoulder, it's Balfour," Murray says in his gruff voice as he comes up beside me.I turn to find several other stunt coordinators watching us."He's the best in the business for a reason, lass."
"But his arm---"
"Has been worse before," Murray explains."Three years ago, he dislocated both shoulders during a waterfall stunt in the Three Sisters Mountains and still managed to finish the sequence.Kirk doesn't know when to quit."
Is that supposed to reassure me?I clench my fists tight enough that my nails dig into my palms.Kirk is still moving, and every motion is clearly painful but still precise.The way his face contorts when he shifts his weight tells me everything his stoic silence won't.
