“What’s your name then?” she snapped back. “Maybe it’s Walter—or—should I call you Mr. Walt?”
He grunted and she couldn’t tell if it was a laugh or a sound of annoyance—either way it was at her expense.
“My name is Mack Grey. You can call me Mack.”
It fit him. A man in charge, used to taking action and issuing commands. Damn. She didn’t really have a snide comeback for that, so she chose to keep her mouth shut. Something her father had once said drifted up in her mind:Better to remain silent and be thought a fool than to open your mouth and prove it.
“Marley, I’m going to talk you down branch by branch.”
Grateful for his help, Marley clutched the tree trunk and said, “Thanks.”
“The next one is a little bit farther, maybe four feet to your left. You need to lie on your stomach and let both your legs hang down.”
Her brain on autopilot, Marley looked down past her assigned branch at Mack. As expected, the wave of fear rolled down her shoulders and set her semi-calm pulse back into overdrive.
“Marley, one branch at a time. You’ve got this.”
She nodded, more for her own benefit than to assure him, and went to her knees first, then lay out flat, turning so that she was perpendicular over the fat branch with her feet hanging over a vast void. Four feet equaled forty-eight inches; forty-eight inches was about 122 centimeters. At five-foot-five, she could easily reach the branch.
Marley stretched out her leg, praying she’d brush the next branch with her toes, and met nothing but air. Oh God. Oh God. Oh God.
“Marley, you are just a few inches off. Try again.” His voice held a shred of command.
Marley stiffened with irritation. She muttered under her breath, “Why don’t you come up here and do it?”
Her chances for dying seemed to be increasing rather than decreasing.
“What was that?” Mack called out from below.
“Nothing.” Her rib cage hurt and the mild burning in her left bicep heated up.
“You’re doing great. Slide down, reach out your right foot, and hang by your arms.”
Oh my God, she really had to do this. At least the rest of the special operatives weren’t there to see her possible complete failure or meltdown—or both.
“What you looking at, boss?” a distinctly different male voice asked.
Marley stiffened, knowing exactly what part of her anatomy was on display.
Mack said, “Helping our pilot navigate the tree.”
“Want me to go up and get her?”
“No!” Marley forced herself to do exactly as Mack had said a minute ago; she hung on to the branch with her arms and lowered her body south. At this angle, if she didn’t find the limb, it was curtains. Stretching, praying, sweating, she nearly cried out in relief when she felt the limb under her foot.
A few seconds later, she was standing on the next branch down, glued to the trunk and breathing hard. She’d made it another ten feet down, which left about forty feet to go—still a death sentence if she fell.
The next step was a little bit closer, and without waiting for instructions from Mack she was able to take two more limbs down. The last one she landed on was slender, but sturdy enough to hold her weight.
Marley studied the two nearest branches, assessing the possibilities. Both would be a long stretch, but if she wanted to reach the one to her left, a good foot lower, she’d have to hang by her fingers, relying on blind faith and Mack to guide her feet to the branch below. The other one was a belly stretch away.
As if he’d read her mind, Mack said, “The one on the right looks easier to get to. But there are not very many choices from there. I know the left one is a little bit farther down, if you can reach it, you’ll be able to descend the tree easier afterward.”
Warily, Marley mentally measured out the distance to the two branches. The logical part of her brain knew she should listen to Mack—it was the better long-term option—but the illogical part of her brain, the one that seemed to have taken control, had her easing down toward the closer branch.
“Marley, go to the other branch.”
Oh great, Mack was practically channeling her father now. She’d heard that tone often enough in her childhood.
