Page 6 of Axe Marks the Spot

“I guess that’s better than a no,” he says.

“Are you both ready?”

Levi and I turn toward the voice of a volunteer, Cheryl, a blond local that normally works at the diner.

“That we are, Cheryl-baby,” Levi says. “Think I can beat Dane here this year?”

Cheryl blushes when she looks at me. “Maybe, but probably not.”

The skin around my eyes crinkles in amusement, and I nod at Cheryl in thanks while Levi groans and pats his hand over his heart.

“You wound me.”

“He is the champion four years running,” Cheryl reminds him.

“Five,” I say confidently.

“Hey! You haven’t won yet,” Levi says. “I’ve been practicing. I’ve also put in way more logging hours than you have this year.”

Levi’s words are true, but I’m good at logging games, especially speed pole climbing. I know I’m going to win; there’s no doubt in my mind.

I pat Levi on the back and then grab the rest of my gear. “You can try.”

“Oh, Dane. I’m going to do more than try.”

“You’re going down, Dane!” Levi calls from the pole next to mine. On my other side is a man I don’t know, probably an out-of-towner who came to try to win the prize money. All some of the guys here do is compete in competitions like this and even participate in world championships. But the ninety-foot speed pole climb is the only event I compete in, and I only do it here in Starlight Haven.

I’m sure these guys know it, too. A lot of them might even have come here specifically to beat me and my record of four-point-seven-three seconds. Which I set last year and intend to beat by at least a half a second this year.

I think the man next to me says good luck, but I don’t acknowledge him or Levi, who’s talking to the man next to him. I inhale a calming breath as the announcer comes over the PA system to give us a ninety-second warning. I do a quick triple check of all my gear, making sure my fall-arrest harness is good for my descent after I win.

I secure my flipline, a rope to stabilize and assist my climb in my gloved hands, wrapping it securely around the pole. The buzz of the crowd cheering around the perimeter spikes my adrenaline, and a thirty-second warning is given. I hear grunts of the men around me, near battle cries, but I remain focused. Lifting my right leg, I secure my foot on the pole with my climbing spur.

Ba-boom. Ba-boom. Ba-boom. My heart accelerates in my chest, and I feel my pulse in my throat. It’s easy to forget how much this competition excites me since it only happens once a year, but it returns to me quickly, lighting every nerve ending in me from the soles of my feet to the roots of my hair. I inhale again, and my muscles tense, ready and waiting for the final countdown.

“Competitors ready?” the announcer asks rhetorically. “Three—”

My hands grip my flipline, and everything in me screams Win!

“Two—”

My calves tighten, and I relax my jaw so I don’t grind my teeth.

“One—”

I fill my lungs with air and focus my eyes on the wood grain of the pole.

“Go!”

My muscles bunch and release as I explode upward off the safety cushion beneath the pole. I drive my left foot up, sticking the spike on my high-grip boot into the wood. My right leg follows, and I repeat the process, my mind almost going blank as I climb upward, eating up each foot of the pole in seconds.

I breathe hard as I exert myself, loving how the dry mountain air burns my lungs. I feel alive, blood pumping through my veins, and sweat prickling at my brow. My arms and legs strain as I push my body upward and upward until I’ve hit the finish at the top of the pole.

The whole thing is over in a matter of seconds. I exhale and release the grip of my spikes on the pole, falling ninety feet toward the ground in the safe way I was trained, taught by my late dad many years ago.

The moment my feet hit the cushion at the bottom, the sound of the excited crowd is deafening. I don’t even need to hear the announcer say that I broke my own record to know that I did it. I knew I would before the competition began. When I set my mind to something, it will always happen.

I wipe the sweat off my forehead and take in several breaths to calm my burning lungs. As the world comes back to me and reality fills my ears, I realize the crowd has gone quiet, and the announcer is calling for medical attention.