Chapter 34
“I don’t think I can make it!” the man said in a squeal of desperation.
Righty looked to the side and saw a quivering man holding desperately to the side of a rock. He momentarily felt smug contempt for the jittery fool before he made the severe mistake of looking down and seeing trees that looked like toy soldiers standing at attention.
“Don’t go down. You’re past the point of no return,” a calm, instructive voice said.
Righty looked to his left and saw a gray-haired man smile at him benevolently. He was wearing a helmet with the words “Rock Climbing Coach” inscribed on the front. He said nothing to Righty.
Righty turned back towards the frightened climber, whose arms and legs looked like they were doing some kind of wobbly dance.
“It’s too high up! I’ll never make it!” the man yelled.
“Maybe not,” the coach replied calmly, “but you sure as hell won’t make it down. And you already long since entered the death zone.”
Righty dared just one more quick peek downwards and had to concede the coach’s observation seemed correct, but he quickly brought his gaze back upwards, as even this brief downward glance had sent an electrical spark racing up and down his spine a few times and raised the hairs on the back of his neck up towards the summit above.
“It’s too high!” the man shrieked again. “I’m going down. To hell with this!”
Righty glanced at the coach, who gazed upon him benevolently, then shook his head sorrowfully.
Righty looked back towards the man, and he was indeed beginning to make his way down. The jitteriness seemed to have died down a tad, now that he was moving closer to the earth rather than farther from it. But the man’s terror quickly returned, as he realized it was impossible to down climb without looking down.
“Oh, hell!” the man screamed in a shriek of desperation. He hugged the wall closely, looking like he wished he was anywhere but there at this particular moment. He then made a loud exhalation, seemingly to psyche himself up, and he began making a few cautious movements of progress in his descent.
But his knees and fingers were getting shakier by the moment, as he had to keep looking downwards, and then Righty felt his stomach nearly fall through his feet when he saw what happened next.
The man’s fingers managed to grasp the desired hold, but his fingers were too weak to sustain the combination of his weight and downward momentum.
They slipped off, and the ensuing shriek almost made Righty lose his own grip. He hugged the wall tightly but for some reason couldn’t avert his gaze from the terrible scene. The man grasped out desperately with his right hand, and did manage to gain a hold, but he was swinging at this moment, and as he did so his countenance turned towards Righty.
Righty groaned when he saw the man’s face was his own. His face was contorted in a rictus of horror as his right hand slipped off. He clawed feverishly at the side of the cliff wall, but his downward momentum was too powerful now for any of these grips to be able to stop it.
He was accelerating faster and faster; then he was in free fall. Righty watched all the way until nearly the very end but looked away just before the man’s body crashed onto the stony ground and exploded like an apple.
The sudden cessation of the man’s screams left nothing regarding the outcome to imagination.
Righty turned, now horrified, to the coach.
“I told him it’s harder going down than up. And staying still’s not an option either. You’ve got to reach the top. Then, you can rest.”
“HAAAAROOOOLD!!!” Righty shouted out, expecting the wonderful sound of his loyal friend’s wings, that portent of deliverance, at any moment.
But there was only silence.
“Harold can’t get you out of this one,” the coach said calmly.
A stubborn determination overcame Righty, something the coach apparently sensed.
“Now that’s the spirit,” he said, as Righty began climbing.
He took his time. He was in no rush. He searched for the footholds and handholds one at a time and began making slow, yet certain, progress.
The coach, well protected with ropes, something of which Righty was dolefully bereft, cheerfully ascended the vertical cliff face with Righty, staying about ten feet to his left.
Righty began feeling more and more confident of his ascent, and soon the old geezer was present in voice only, as he cried out from below, “That’s it! That’s the spirit!”
Then, suddenly, he heard something far more sinister from the old man: “WATCH OUT!!”
Righty looked up to see some loose rocks tumbling down towards him. He hugged the cliff wall as closely as he could and tried to push his body forward into a small indentation that offered the protection of a slight overhang.
He braced himself, waiting for the impact of the first rocks.
BAM!!
One hit him right on the back of his head, which was fortunately covered by a helmet, but he could feel the force of the blow. He gripped the side of wall even harder. Give me what you’ve got! I can take a beating!!
The International Businessman Page 37
