Her fingers brushed the branch again, and this time she clenched it and held on with all her strength. A wave of triumph blasted through her veins.
At this angle, she’d have to kick her legs up and over, and straddle the branch like a see-saw. Using the buzz of adrenaline still feeding her movements, Marley swung her legs up, turned herself over, and managed to wrap her arms and legs around the branch. Exhausted, she rested her cheek on the wood, closed her eyes, and took in several deep breaths in an attempt to calm her racing heart.
No matter how stupid it was, having that solid piece of wood beneath her made her feel better. Like she wasn’t over fifty feet in the air, dangling from a tree limb in the Congo after her plane had been intentionally scuttled by her copilot.
Hell, she felt like freaking G.I. Jane.
She’d survived not only one but two near-death experiences in the past two hours. A cold nosedive in a C-130. Parachuting out of the back of the crashing plane.
The bomb. The explosion had rent the air, sending bright red flames bursting across the sky. The billowing smoke was still visible through the small cracks in the thick tree tops overhead.
Make that three near-death experiences. The rush of G.I. Jane power faded away.
Focus. She needed to analyze her surroundings, make a plan to safely and quickly disembark from this giant Amazonian-like tree and get her feet planted on the ground.
Looked like she had about ten feet to go to reach the trunk, and from there multiple branches jetted out in random from the tree nearly to the ground. She could crawl down them like a ladder. Take it step-by-step. Easy as one, two, three.
Marley took a deep breath, pulled on her willpower, and began to inch her way forward. She only made it half a foot before her parachute yanked her to a stop. Fumbling with the Velcro pocket on her right thigh, Marley pulled out her KA-BAR knife and cut her tether free. The movement made her shift to the left. The unbalanced feeling made her shriek, and she released the knife so she could cling to the tree for dear life. Her eyes were drawn to the flashing silver blade as it tumbled over and over in the air and then embedded halfway to the hilt in the soft dirt right between the colonel’s feet.
She gasped and met his shocked gaze. She hadn’t even realized he was nearby.
“Be still, I’m coming up to get you,” the colonel called out.
And rescue her again?
“No thank you, I have the situation well under control.”
Her visceral response to looking down was an unwelcome reminder that the bold claim wasn’t exactly true.
Still, if she wanted him to see her as the capable and intelligent woman she was, she’d figure her way out of this mess on her own. With the same sloth-like speed as before, Marley scooted forward. It seemed like it took her an hour to reach the trunk, when in reality it was probably no more than a minute. Sweat was dripping down her neck by the time she stopped, got to her feet in a crouch, and grabbed the branch just above her shoulders for support.
“Captain–” he paused and Marley prepared for the reprimand that was surely to come. “There’s a good wide limb about three feet down to your left. Think you can reach it?”
Not dumb enough to look down all the way to the ground a second time, she cast her gaze down just far enough to see the narrow area he had specified. Oh yeah, there was a fat branch easily within reach. Lowering to her bottom, she draped her legs over the side and eased her right foot down until her toes touched the limb. Careful to keep her body draped over the branch she currently held onto, she inched down until both of her feet were squarely planted.
Okay, very smooth. You can do this. That was like riding a tricycle…fifty feet in the air.
Marley gulped.
“What’s your name?”
“Mitchell,” she managed to squeak out.
“What is your first name? Mitchell doesn’t fit you.”
“I know what you’re doing, and it’s not going to work.” He was trying to distract her.
“Soldier, I command you to tell me your first name.”
Her reply whipped out instantly. “Marley.”
“Wow,” he said.
“Wow? What exactly does that mean?”
“I pictured you as more of a Margaret or an Elizabeth.”
Both old women and monarchs. Did he think she looked old?
