They talked through their options and quickly realized they had none. It was at least a two-hour descent to the vehicle with rapidly falling temps, and Kenzie might not have two hours. Even if they bundled her up in a sleeping bag and emergency blankets, she might be dead before they reached Rescue 1. If anything happened to slow them down—if they got lost or someone got hurt—they would lose her.
They had no choice. They would have to cross the knife’s edge in high winds with Kenzie unconscious on the litter if they wanted to save her life. If they pulled it off, it would be a world-class bit of rescue work. If they didn’t…
Kenzie wouldn’t be the only one to die.
Chapter 23
There wasnothing they could use to build an anchor up here—no trees or boulders, no human structures except for the cabin they hoped to reach. A Tyrolean traverse was impossible. So Megs and Belcourt became the anchors, staying far from the edge and setting up belays while Conrad, Hawke, and Moretti made Kenzie as warm as they could, secured her to the litter, and stepped into their climbing harnesses.
Moretti, armed with his rifle, went first, crawling through wind and snow to the razor’s edge.
Lying flat, he moved forward until he was straddling the rock. “Fuck. I think I just castrated myself.”
Slowly, inch by inch, he made his way to the other side. Once across, he hunched low so as not to catch the wind and moved toward the cabin, rifle now in his hands.
But Conrad’s focus was on Kenzie. He tied the litter into the ropes, double-checking every knot, every connection. “Hold on, honey.”
She hadn’t moved or opened her eyes, and it scared the hell out of him.
Beside him, Gizmo whimpered, leaning over Kenzie, licking her face.
It put an ache in Conrad’s chest. “I’m going to take good care of her, and Megs is going to take good care of you. When we all get home, I’m going to treat you to a steak dinner. Do you like rib eyes?”
At that moment, Moretti kicked open the cabin door and moved inside. He stepped out, shook his head, shouted back across the abyss. “Clear!”
Conrad went next, his upper body on top of the litter, inching it and himself along. The wind was unreal, forcing Conrad to grip the rock with his thighs. If he let himself be blown off this ridge, Kenzie would fall with him. Though he wouldn’t fall far—Megs and Belcourt were taking up the slack—it still wouldn’t be fun or safe for either of them.
Behind him, Gizmo barked in distress. Megs had attached his leash to her harness. Gizmo was so loyal to Kenzie that they’d been afraid he’d try to follow and end up falling or being blown away.
Lying on his belly and still roped in, Moretti met him halfway, helping Conrad to guide the litter off the sharp rock’s edge and into the snow.
Kenzie was safely across.
Thank God.
Conrad reached the other side a moment later, crawling forward beneath a battering wind. He untied the rope, let Megs and Belcourt pull it back.
Hawke roped in and started across, a gear bag dangling over each side on cords—a safer option in this wind than a backpack.
But Conrad’s concern now was for Kenzie. He and Moretti lifted the litter and carried it up wooden steps to the cabin door. Moretti shouldered the door open, and at last Kenzie was inside. Though it was still below freezing in the cabin, it was much warmer, the bitter wind held at bay by sturdy log walls and a thick stone foundation.
Conrad glanced around the dim interior. There was an old bed frame in one corner, an empty sleeping bag beside it. There were a few large ammo boxes next to the sleeping bag. A pot sat next to the fireplace and beside that a stack of firewood. “Someone has been living here.”
He didn’t have to wonder who it might have been.
“I’m going to check around the back, make sure no one’s walking up behind us.” Moretti grabbed his rifle and headed back out into the storm.
Conrad got a fire going, warmth spilling through the small space. He returned to Kenzie, drew her closer to the fire, stroked her face. “Kenzie, honey, can you hear me?”
He’d been an EMT for most of a decade, but this was somehow different. Everything he knew seemed to vanish from his mind, chased away by adrenaline. “Snap out of it, goddamn it.”
Behind him, the door opened, and Hawke walked inside, dragging the gear bags with him. He bent down, hands on his knees, to catch his breath, then walked over to Conrad, gear bags and all.
“You’ve done your part. Let me take care of her.”
Conrad nodded, moving aside for Hawke who ripped into one of the gear bags and pulled out an advanced first-aid kit.
In his earpiece, Conrad heard Megs tell Ahearn back in Ops that they were heading back down to Rescue 1. Belcourt asked Ahearn to tone out a vet and said he was carrying Gizmo down wrapped in an emergency blanket.
