“Ace.” Margo was above him on the rock apron, on her knees, her face over the edge, her hands reaching. “Give me your arm.”
“No, Margo. I’m too heavy for you, go get Rad,” Ace told her. He was focused on the rock under his hands, on finding the angles, on the left handhold which was better than the right and could take more weight.
“Give me your arm,” Margo said again, with a firmness that indicated she wasn’t having a discussion about it and ignoring his order.
She grabbed his left wrist with both hands and pulled.
He felt her weight brace against the edge and her grip tighten, and he helped where he could, getting his right elbow onto the rock surface and pushing, and for a moment it was genuinely unclear which way it was going to go.
Then it became clear it wasn’t going to go his way.
The rock under Margo’s knees was too wet. Her leverage was wrong. She could hold him, but she couldn’t lift him, and he could feel the slow, incremental loss of ground in both their grips.
“Margo,” Ace growled. “Listen to me. Let go and get Rad.”
“Don’t you dare tell me to let go,” Margo said, through her gritted teeth.
“You’re making it worse,” Ace told her. “I can hold this. But I need someone stronger than either of us to get me up.”
Margo stared at him over the edge.
“Go,” Ace said. “I’ll hold on as best I can.”
Her face told him everything she thought about that plan.
“Margo.” He kept his voice steady, calm, and completely certain. “Go. Now.”
Margo held his gaze for one more second.
“You just hold on,” Margo ordered. “Don’t you dare let go. Do you hear me, Ace McKenna? Don’t you dare let go.”
Then she was gone, scrambling back across the apron toward the cave entrance, her boots loud on the wet rock, her voice already calling ahead of her.
Ace looked up at the edge of the rock above his head. Then he looked at the distance to solid ground below.
He tightened his grip as his arms ached, but his fingers were slipping and cramping from the cold. The rain decided it was going to torture him as it came down in a hard, spluttering rain, making the surface even more slippery. Ace’s fingers started to slide off the ledge. He tried to regain his grip but couldn’t, so he did the only thing he could do. He flattened himself against the edge as his fingers slid loose. Ace’s body grated against the side of the cliff as he slid.
9
WILLA
Willa heard Margo before she saw her.
The tarpaulin at the cave entrance pulled sideways, and Margo came through it fast, her face wet and tight, the kind of breathless urgency about her that had nothing to do with running and everything to do with what she needed to say in the next three seconds.
“It’s Ace,” Margo said. “He’s gone over the ledge.”
The words hit Willa’s chest like a fist.
Rad was already on his feet. He’d been half-awake against the wall, she could tell from the speed he moved, coming upright without the usual stiffness of deep sleep. His hands were already reaching for the rope at the base of the supply pile before Margo had finished speaking.
“How far did he go over?” Rad asked.
“He was still gripping the edge when I left him,” Margo told him, pulling her hood back, rain still streaming down her face. “He told me to come get you. He said he could hold on.”
Willa was already pulling on her raincoat. “Let’s go.”
“Mom.” Grace was beside her, upright and alert.
