There they were, all my knives, scattered across the snowbank beside my extra layers and snacks.
“Okay...” I whispered, trying to think of a solution. There had to be one.
Larry chittered from his perch in the tall evergreen, still where I’d left him, almost at my eye level.
“Could you get me a knife?” I asked.
He didn’t budge, instead stretching out on the branch and gnawing on something long and hard that looked like a bone.
I let out a sigh and slumped back for a moment, my neck aching and stiff from the whiplash. Pulling myself upright again, I started searching my body for anything sharp enough to cut the rope. My cargo pockets were empty, and so was my coat, though the pack had some metal buckles. I carefully disassembled one of the shoulder straps, keeping the other one wrapped around my arm. I wasn’t about to lose anything else, not even an empty bag if it could help keep me warm.
I held the buckle up, noticing its rough edge. It might just work—ithadto work.
Clutching it between numbing fingers, I sawed at the rope as the sun dipped lower, taking the temperature with it. Hanging there, all I could wonder was just how mad Gray was at this moment, and hope that he really was a good tracker, if not the best.
“Please… come find me, asshole.”
Chapter 19
Betty
Hours passed, and my fingers were cold and stiff like refrigerated carrots. While sawing through the tough nylon rope kept me warm for a while, the sun was setting. Without the added warmth of daylight, my job grew more arduous and dire by the minute.
Larry was still up in that damn tree, only leaving to pilfer some of my dropped snacks and bring them back to his perch to gobble up. A plastic wrapper fluttered to the ground near us, and he pawed at a granola bar, licking and mouthing it like his new favorite girlfriend.
Exhausted and with a rumbling stomach, I spun aimlessly just twenty feet off the ground. So close, and yet so far away. The rope was 70% frayed, but it was a climbing rope, designed to withstand such damage. There was still so much left to cut through.
Why was the universe always against me?
At times, my ears would deceive me, prompting me to stop and hold my breath, straining to listen for anything promising, like the sound of a snowmobile. More often than not, it was just the rustle of snow falling from a tree or the crackle of ice breaking away from the cliff.
The thin, distant clouds had in fact carried snow, but barely; just a few flakes were drifting down. Patches of clear evening sky were still visible. It could be worse. A flurry was manageable, but the thin layer it deposited on the ground was still concerning. It obscured the crucial tracks I’d made—tracks Gray could use to locate me.
I gripped the backpack buckle between my teeth and rubbed my hands together, trying to reactivate my circulation. With renewed focus, I returned to sawing.
Another hour drifted by, and darkness enveloped us. The moon remained hidden behind lingering clouds, but the flurries had ceased.I could barely make out the occasional glint of Larry’s eyes in the tree when he glanced my way.
I was about to give my tired and stiff hand another break when I felt a jolt on the rope, followed by the sound of a fibrous twang. With a sudden and sharp snap, I plunged downwards before I could react to brace myself. The rope whipped back overhead, its crack echoing off the cliff walls, and I landed with a grunt in the snow.
I lay still for a moment, my whole body shocked by the impact.
Fuck, that hurt, despite how numb I was. Assessing each limb, it was hard to gauge the extent of any damage because they were so cold. I was thankful to have worn a helmet, which I didn’t always do. Otherwise, I probably would have suffered a concussion.
My teeth were chattering, but I carefully rolled onto my side. With numb hands, I raked my dropped clothing closer, hoping it was dry enough to put back on. Grunting, I sat up, my shoulders stiff from the prolonged effort of cutting the rope.
Larry had apparently and graciously left one granola bar untouched, but the snow had frozen it solid. I tucked it into the waistband of my pants while putting on my other layers, hoping to soften it. The jacket wasn’t the driest, but I had no other choice. I found my gloves and pulled those on over stiff fingers.
I could barely see in the dark, but knew the overhang of the cliff would be a good place to huddle. There was nothing amongst my scattered belongings I could use to start a fire, like a lighter or matches, as I never expected to be out here this long. I didn’t even pack a flashlight. That was a rookie mistake I wouldn’t make again.
One hand in front of the other, I navigated toward the cliff, relieved to find a sheltered spot toward the back of the overhang, clear of snow and large rocks. The ground sloped slightly, with some plants growing out to create a patch of soft earth and foliage.
I curled up against the wall and huddled in, preparing myself to wait out the night. With my back to the elements, I pulled my gear close, creating as much of a barrier as possible against the chill.
There was still plenty of crap strewn out on the snow—including Larry’s snack wrappers. If Gray came along in the dark, he’d hopefully notice the silvery plastic and come looking. I heard Larry chatter, then felt him crawling over my hip and side. It shocked me when he balled up near my legs. I didn’t dare freak out about it, not when a modicum of warmth seeped through my pant leg from his presence.
I took a deep breath, the smell of damp earth filling my nose and lungs. Remembering the granola bar, I reached into my waistband, retrieved it, and eagerly unwrapped the now-defrosted treat. I ate quickly before Larry could discover I had food. There was no way that fat bastard was still hungry, but I wasn’t about to share.
I wondered what Nash was up to now and how he’d reacted to my silence after that last text. Knowing Nash, he was probably already in big-brother mode. What could or would he do?
