He flattened himself against the cliff. A fragment struck his shoulder, but he barely had time to register the pain when a much larger piece struck his helmet.
An explosion of light. Pain. Darkness.
Megs let outa surprised shriek as she was jerked off the rockface and fell. The cam she’d inserted held, the GriGri braking as it was designed to do. The two devices stopped her fall, left her hanging.
She glanced down, saw Mitch slumped over, motionless in midair, a crack in his helmet. Her mouth went dry, adrenaline hitting her bloodstream. “Mitch!”
No reply. No movement.
“Ahearn!”
Fuck! Son of a bitch!
Fear snaked through her, turned her blood to ice. “Ahearn, can you hear me?”
Was he dead?
Please, no!
Then five decades of climbing and rescue experience kicked in.
Don’t panic!
She drew one deep breath after another until the adrenaline rush had ebbed. She’d be no good to herself or to Mitch if she let her emotions get the better of her. Isn’t that what she told Team members?
With Mitch’s dead weight acting as her belay, she reestablished her holds and rappelled another twenty feet or so down to him. His head hung to one side, blood trickling down from beneath his cracked helmet, his shirt torn and bloody on one shoulder. “Mitch, can you hear me? Ahearn, talk to me!”
He was unresponsive.
“Shit!” She checked for respiration and a pulse, her own heart pounding as relief washed through her.
He was alive and breathing—for now.
“Thank God.”
But Megs had been involved in search and rescue for more than twenty years. She knew that an unresponsive victim and a cracked helmet were never good news.
Think! Pull it together!
She needed to build an anchor, fix her harness to his, and use his part of the rope, which was longer, to rappel them both to a safer position. Then she could call for help and at least try to render first aid.
She studied the wall below them, saw a ledge some thirty feet down. It was wide enough for both of them—if they could reach it.
“I’m going to get us out of this. Hang on, Ahearn. Just keep breathing.”
Please keep breathing!
Pulse racing, she took a cordelette and three quickdraws off her rack and crafted a strong anchor, checking it three times just to be sure she hadn’t made any mistakes. Then she clipped into his harness, telling him what she was doing, just like she would for any other victim in need of rescue. She was pretty sure he couldn’t hear her, but it helped her stay focused. “I’m attached to your harness now. We’ll rappel down to that ledge.”
Before she untied herself from her half of the rope, she made one last safety check. If she had missed something or screwed up, she might shock-load the rope and exceed the strength of her anchor. There was no margin for error. If his harness broke or her anchor failed, they would both die.
When she was certain she hadn’t missed anything, she began the rappel to the ledge below, using the braking mechanism in his GriGri to let them down slowly.
“It’s going great. We’re almost there.”
Down, down, down they went, the anchor holding fast.
After what seemed like a brief eternity, Megs’ feet touched the ledge. She lowered herself into a sitting position, drawing Mitch carefully onto the ledge beside her, resting his head on her lap. He needed a backboard to stabilize his spine, but she couldn’t do anything about that now. “We’re going to hang out here until help comes.”
