by Alan Cook
Chapter 34
I had to act now. I carefully pulled on the rope
with my right hand where it snaked up the cliff.
It didn't move. I pulled a little harder. If I had to
jerk it I would lose my balance. Still no
movement. I didn't have any margin for error.
I tugged again. It moved a little. At least it
wasn't wedged between two rocks.
I slowly pulled it down, foot by foot. I wanted to
coil it over my left shoulder, but to do this I had
to take my left hand off the cliff momentarily for
each coil. I pressed my right shoulder against the
cliff and found I could still use my right hand to
make each loop and keep my balance.
It was tedious work and I was losing strength
rapidly. In addition, although the rope was light,
its weight changed my balance as I coiled more
and more of it around my left shoulder.
If I went too fast I would lose my balance. If
I went too slowly I would lose my strength
and then my balance. My leg trembled
continuously now. My whole body was
drenched in sweat.
The last section of rope fell down the cliff and
stopped just below me. I took hold of the rope
a few feet from the end and maneuvered it
behind my right shoulder. I planned to flip it
over the rock that protruded above me with
my right hand. Not too strong a flip or I would
upset my delicate balance.
I practiced my throwing motion several times. Then
I did it for real. I kept my balance but I didn't
throw hard enough. The rope didn't go over the
rock. My jaw hurt and I realized I was gritting
my teeth. I had to make another throw. Had to
hang on a little longer. I pulled the rope back into
position.
Practice throwing motion. Again. Ready for the
real throw. Now. Good strong throw. The rope
went over the rock, the end came down the
other side and swung toward me. I grabbed
for it with my left hand and lost my balance.
My feet came off the ledge just as I gripped the
rope with my left hand. With my right hand I
grabbed the section of rope coming down from
the other side of the rock. I swung in mid-air,
holding on to both pieces of rope with grips of
desperation.
For one awful moment I wondered whether the rock
was going to break off or whether the rope was
going to slide off it. Neither happened. My arms
were stronger than my legs right now and I could
hold my weight.
But I had to get my legs back on the ledge. My
feet frantically searched for it. They found it
at last. With difficulty I stabilized myself. I was
breathing very fast and my heart sounded like
a kettledrum in my ears.
I still had to pass the whole length of the rope
over the rock until the section between where
I was tied to it and the top of the rock was
tight. Slowly, I began pulling down on the other
end of the rope, uncoiling it from my shoulder at
the same time and allowing the uncoiled section
to pass over the rock and then snake down the cliff.
This was the opposite of what I had done before
and, in some respects, more difficult because the
loop I was uncoiling might be caught in the other
coils. My legs were giving out. I stopped and rested
on my arms, holding onto the rope on either side
of the rock.
Back to work. Pull the rope down slowly. Uncoil
it from my shoulder a coil at a time. The next
coil was snagged in the other coils. Don't tug
it. Work on it carefully with one hand. It was
hard on my fingers. The coil came loose and I
started pulling the rope down the other side of
the rock again. Slowly. Slowly.
Three more coils to go. Two. One. The rope was
uncoiled and taut from me up to the rock. I could
support my weight by holding onto the rope from
the other side of the rock. By letting it out I could
lower myself down the face of the cliff. Like a
pulley system.
I held the rope with both hands and starting letting
it move up a little at a time. The rope passed over
the rock and down the other side, lowering me in
the process. The system was working. I just had
to have a little more patience.
Don't go too fast. Don't risk losing control of the
rope. Keep a tight grip with one hand while the
other hand changes position on the rope. My
hands hurt as the skin was rubbed off them.
Ignore the pain. Hand over hand. Walk down
the cliff face backwards.
I found the courage to look down and saw that
the ground was much closer. Almost there. Then
I saw the other end of the rope coming up as
my end went down. I was going to run out of
rope before I reached the ground. The total
length of the rope was less than twice the
distance from the ground to the rock.
In a few seconds it happened. I was out of rope
and I still had 20 feet more to go to reach the
ground. Only 20 feet. It seemed like a mile. But
maybe I could climb down. I found a foothold
and stood, still holding the rope.
I looked directly beneath me. The cliff wasn't
as steep here. There were holds, if I could
reach them. If I was careful. To climb down
I had to let go of the rope. It was my security
blanket and I didn't want to lose it. I stood for
a full minute, undecided about what to do.
I had no choice. My legs were beginning to shake
again. I released the rope and plastered my
body against the cliff. But I had to move. I
quickly untied the other end of the rope from
around my waist so that I wouldn't rely on it
to hold my weight, without thinking. Cautiously,
I lowered one hand and found a hold. Then I
moved a leg. I worked it down the rock,
supporting myself on my other leg, which was
bent double at the knee.
Just a little farther. My support leg gave out. For
a few seconds I held myself with my hands,
scrambling with my legs to find holds. My
handholds weren't good enough. I started sliding.
I turned my body and ran down the cliff, out
of control. I launched off a small ledge and
was airborne for the last eight or nine feet.
My stomach muscles contracted in a spasm
of fear as I tried to land in a spot relatively
free of rocks. My feet hit and then my knees
hit hard. A shockwave went through my body
and I couldn't breathe.
I rolled onto my back and struggled to get some
air into my lungs. Was I dying? I put my hands
on my chest and tried to pump it in some sort
of artificial respiration but I couldn't get any
leverage.
I can't account for the next few minutes, but I
must have started breathing again because
gradually I became aware of my surroundings. I
lay on my back in a sea of pain.
I tried to move and the pain became excruciating.
I lay still for a while, hoping that everything
would be all right. Finally, I realized that I had
to help myself. I made small movements to
find out where the pain was coming from and
discovered that it was in my back. Since my
back hadn't hit anything I wasn't sure why, but
my knees had hit hard enough to knock the wind
out of me so the shock must have hurt something
in my back.
My knees were skinned but they seemed to work.
Gradually, I rolled over and got to a kneeling
position, gritting my teeth against the pain. I
made it to my feet, but with every step pain
washed through me. I knew approximately where
the park headquarters was but I couldn't walk
there, at least not in a reasonable length of time.
I remembered Stan saying that he would come
back and find my body. If he found me alive he
would put me out of my misery. I had to hide.
The jumble of rocks meant that there were
plenty of hiding places. The trick was to find
one that was comfortable enough so that I
could stand it.
I picked up my daypack, which had some water
and granola bars in it, and hobbled a few yards
away from the cliff to a cluster of boulders. I
had to climb about ten feet, but I managed to
work my way into the middle of them.
A crack between two of the rocks faced toward
the cliff, where both ends of the rope still hung
from the outthrust rock, above. In my current
state of pain I couldn't picture myself climbing
up that cliff and I wondered how I had ever
done it.
I found a sitting position that was bearable.
I leaned my back against a smooth rock. I
drank some water and chewed on a granola
bar and hoped that someone else would show
up before Stan did.
It became very quiet when I stopped moving,
the kind of quiet unknown to a city, the kind
that is scary to somebody used to constant
noise. But it lulled me and I started to daydream,
helped by the warmth of the afternoon sun. I
must have fallen asleep.
A noise startled me and I opened my eyes.
Through the crack between the rocks I could
see somebody moving, a little below me, near
the face of the cliff. I blinked my eyes to focus
them. It was Stan. He was looking up at the
rope. Both ends were well above his reach. He
couldn't get to it unless he climbed partway up
the rock. The rope might be used as evidence
against him.
He also had another problem. There was no
body. That meant I was still alive and he had
to find me before someone else did. The sun's
rays slanted almost horizontally from the west.
It would be dark soon. He needed to find me
before dark. And I needed to get out of this
mess before dark.
Stan looked around. I didn't move. He shouldn't
be able to see me because I was in shadow
and the crack between the rocks in front of
me wasn't very big. He walked a few steps to
the side and disappeared from my view. I moved
closer to the crack to increase my field of vision
and spotted him, still looking around. I felt a lot
better when I could see him. I had to keep him
in sight.
Without showing myself I called out, "Stan, here
is the puzzle for today."
I paused and he looked in my general direction.
If I remained hidden he wouldn't know I was
hurt and he would hesitate to approach me,
especially since he had to climb uphill, out in
the open, to do it.
I continued, "If party A pays party B to kill party
C, does that make party A a coward?"
"I know where you are," Stan said, but he didn't
move in my direction.
He took off his backpack and pulled out a gun. I
had been afraid of that.
"You can't use a gun here," I said, partly to let
him know I could see him.
Stan continued to search with his eyes, but he
didn't spot me. He walked slowly toward the base
of my rocks. I couldn't let him get too close. I
picked up a loose stone. I stood up quickly and
lobbed it at him, almost screaming at the pain
in my back.
The stone bounced harmlessly a few feet from
him, but he fired twice at where I had been.
The shots reverberated off the cliff walls.
Stan retreated several steps while I kept silent.
Somebody would hear the shots and show up soon.
I just had to wait him out.
He must have realized that his time to shut me
up was limited because he started toward my
position again and reached the bottom of my
rock pile. If he killed me he might be able to
declare self-defense or even get away. I showed
myself briefly and lobbed another rock at him,
audibly grunting. It missed again. He fired at
the air.
Stan started to climb toward me, keeping his gun
pointed in my direction. He was too close and too
alert for me to show myself again. I had moved so
I could only see his legs through the crack. If I
couldn't see his eyes he couldn't see me. I hoped.
But I had to do something fast. I stuck my hand
out through the crack, waved it quickly and
pulled it back in. He didn't fire but I could tell
he had seen it by listening to the noises his
feet made. What he couldn't see was the
actual entrance I had used to get into my
sanctuary because it was around to the side.
I picked up a good-sized rock and crawled
painfully toward that opening. I could tell by
Stan's noises that he was almost to the crack.
It was now or never. I stood up, suppressing my
desire to cry out at the pain.
Stan's side was toward me now and his head was
partially hidden. He stuck his gun into the crack
in the rocks. I drew a deep but silent breath to
help me stand the pain and then took two giant
steps toward Stan. I raised the rock over my
head with both hands.
My war cry was more of a scream as I launched
the rock at his head. He moved slightly and it
caught him mostly in the shoulder. I covered the
rest of the distance between us in one painful
bound.
I managed to knock his head into the rock face,
but the effort hurt so much that I lost my breath
again. I sat down heavily. Stan appeared to be
stunned. His eyes looked toward me, but I'm not
sure he saw me.
We sat there a few feet apart, two injured combatants,
too hurt to fight. Stan slowly pulled his arm out of the
crack in the rocks, not appearing to notice that he
was doing it. I kept my eyes glued to it, waiting for
the gun to appear. There was nothing more I could
do to stop him.
After an eternity his hand came into sight. The gun
wasn't in it. He must have dropped it when I hit
him. I would have breathed a sigh of relief but
it hurt to breathe. The only way to retrieve the
gun was to go in the entrance to my former
hideaway, and neither of us could get that far.
We sat for another five minutes, not speaking,
hardly moving.
A voice from below called, "Are you two all right?"
It sounded like Jed. I said, as loudly as I could,
"We're hurt. We need help."
I turned my head and watched Jed climb up the
rocks toward us. When he got to us I said, "Stan
killed Ned Mackay and he tried to kill me."
Aces and Knaves copyright ©2002 Alan L. Cook
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