Tommy leaned out away from the wall and tilted his neck sideways so he could see into the mouth of the ghost. Whoever had carved the figure into the stone had done so around a natural gap in the surface. The cavity was about two feet wide and at least a foot high, making it the perfect home for local bats, or perhaps a few of the indigenous spiders.
For a fleeting second, Sean hoped one of those creatures actually was hiding out in the crevice. It would, no doubt, scare the crap out of his friend and send him sprawling. Only problem was that Sean was connected via the same rope. So, he quickly dispensed with his mischievous thought.
Tommy reached up and flipped on his headlamp. He tilted his neck again and shone the light into the dark hole. Then he stuck his left hand in, stretching his right arm as far as possible, and felt around in the recess.
His search lasted less than ten seconds before he pulled the arm out. He looked down at Sean and shook his head.
“It’s empty.”
Sean started to say something disparaging about it being a wild-goose chase, a waste of time, and that the thing had probably been empty for a hundred years. But all of that was cut short before he could even take the breath to say it.
A young woman’s voice cut through the chilly mountain air. The sound was horrific, a panicked shriek for help.
Sean and Tommy both snapped their heads to the right, toward the source of the noise. There, on the face of the rock, they saw what the commotion was all about.
Dangling from the top ledge, a young woman—probably in her early twenties—was hanging by her fingertips. Eighty feet from certain death.
2
Chattanooga
Tommy glanced down at Sean for an idea as to what they should do, but Sean was already in motion.
His hands rapidly overlapped as he traversed the horizontal crack. His feet shimmied across a ledge, the hardened toes of his Sportiva climbing shoes being put to the test as to whether or not they could hold the edge.
Tommy didn’t have to ask what his friend was doing. He already knew. Thinking wasn’t something Sean did in situations like this. Action was his thing. Hesitation caused problems. In this case, it could result in the death of this girl.
Sean reached the point where their previous path had veered right and found himself facing an L-shaped ledge that jutted out from the main wall. It was a point where the limestone had likely fallen away hundreds or thousands of years ago, leaving a secondary wall that ran perpendicular to the primary one.
There were weathered bolts drilled into the stone near the seam between walls. The patina on the metal fixtures told Sean they’d been put there long ago, most likely before planting such things was outlawed by the local forestry service. Trees, too, had been protected as part of a broad-sweeping mission to slow down the damage to public land they perceived rock climbers were causing.
Sean found a crack in the stone to his right and jammed his hand into it. He felt the rock grind on his skin, but it didn’t hurt much. Hand jams were a common maneuver for rock climbers, and while he didn’t partake in the activity often, he’d learned a few things back in high school while climbing with Tommy and a few other friends.
“Hold on!” Sean shouted up to the girl. She was only a dozen feet away now, just above his right shoulder, and still screaming amid sobs.
Her friends were little to no help, none willing to lean over far enough to grab the poor girl by the wrists and help her up. One of the boys was on his knees, telling her to grab his hand.
She was probably fortunate she hadn’t listened, instead choosing to trust her grip on the rock edge under her fingers. That grip, however, would soon falter if she didn’t have something under her feet.
Sean let go with his left hand, put most of his weight on the hand jammed into the crack, and then swung over to the secondary wall while jerking himself up toward another edge above the crack. His left hand smacked the rim, and he squeezed it then walked his way up until his feet were where his right hand was and pulled it out, replacing it with the toe of his shoe.
He must have looked like a deranged monkey pulling off the move, but it worked and now he was only ten feet from the girl and directly below her.
“Don’t let go of the edge!” he shouted up to her.
“What?” she asked, then realized there was someone below. She didn’t look down for fear of losing her balance.
“Just hold on. And for the love of all things, don’t listen to what that boy is saying. Just hold the rock. Okay?”
“Oh…okay.” She didn’t sound reassured, but she did as instructed.
“I’m coming up, but you’re going to need to stop kicking your legs. Understand?” He didn’t wait for her to respond. “There’s a ledge just above your ankles. It’s not much, but you can put your toes on it and relieve a little strain on your forearms.”
She was wearing a hoodie, but Sean could imagine the veins in her forearms popping up on the skin as the muscles beneath struggled to maintain their grip on the rock that was, at the moment, preserving her life.
To Sean’s left, Tommy was unhooking one of the cams from a carabiner and quickly fastening it to his belt, next to the other unused devices. Once it was on the loop, he descended to the horizontal crack and made his way across the rock toward Sean’s position.
Sean climbed higher, forgetting all about his phobia as he focused all his energy on the girl hanging above.
“Right there,” Sean said. “Just a little higher and you’ll have it. See?”
Her left toe touched the edge that jutted out from the cliff’s edge. Then her right foot joined the other.
“I…I got it!” she shouted with no small amount of relief in her voice.
“That’s great,” Sean said. “Keep holding on tight, okay? Don’t let up.”
He knew what could happen, even with his modest amount of climbing experience. Climbers had the tendency to relax when they found a good place for their feet. It was a natural reaction and one that he’d been guilty of on a few occasions, including about twenty minutes ago when he’d begun his ascent.
“Okay,” she said, her voice returning to the unsteady waver that it had before.
“I’m nearly there,” Sean said. “Just below your feet.”
“What are you going to do?”
It was a good question, and if he’d been honest she might have freaked out. Truth was, he didn’t know right off the bat. He’d seen trouble and reacted, moving to it as his instincts demanded, without regard to personal safety.
He was close now, only a foot or so below the girl’s feet. The soles of her Converse All-Stars were easy to make out, and he realized that this girl was way out of her element. Those weren’t the kinds of shoes to wear out on a hike, especially in this weather.
“I’m just beneath you now,” Sean informed her as he stabilized his grip on a ledge under her feet. “I’m going to put my hands on either side of your shoes. Do me a favor and don’t try to move them. Okay?”
“O-okay,” she said with a stammer, and there was no sense of surety in her voice. The girl was terrified, as Sean knew he would be too in her shoes. He’d been just as scared only minutes before, and he was connected to a rope that would catch him if he were to fall.
He let go with his left hand and stretched out his arm. The fingers brushed against the lip and clenched it hard. Sean’s muscles were starting to strain. He’d been on the rock for what seemed like an hour, though it had probably been less than twenty minutes. That didn’t matter. Ten minutes on a climb was a long time to someone who hadn’t done it in years. Twenty felt like a marathon.
His chest rose and fell with every deep breath, feeding air to his lungs so his racing heart could keep pumping.
He ignored the burning in his legs and raised his left knee. He stuck his shoe onto the next ledge and pushed, driving his right hand up to the lip where the girl’s right foot was still shaking. Her shoes weren’t made for this kind of thing, and the soles bent awkwardly up
as she fought to keep them from slipping off.
That fight would be lost soon if he didn’t do something.
Sean noticed Tommy below him. It was a glance out of the corner of his eye, nothing more. Sean still had no intention of looking down to the ground. At the moment, he was okay, but doing something like that would surely send his fears cascading over him again and he’d likely falter or do something careless. Either way, the girl would probably end up dead, and that wasn’t something he wanted on his mind.
All the people he’d killed in the past were one thing. They were bad people with evil intent. They’d made their choices, and he’d done what he could to stop them.
This girl, however, was—as far as he knew—innocent. Saving her was the only thing that mattered at that moment.
“My hands are right next to your feet,” he said. “I’m going to come up to where you are now. Okay?”
“How…how are you going to do that?”
He wasn’t sure, either, but it was the only thing he could think of.
“Just stay still.”
He saw her feet slipping and knew she didn’t have much longer.
“I…I don’t think I can hold it.”
There was sheer terror in her tone now. It was the fear only a person in their prime could feel, the knowing that their life was about to be cut abysmally short, that they’d never do or see all the things they wanted. He’d heard that tone before when a friend died as a result of injuries in a car accident. He was in the hospital and fading fast, and there was nothing the doctors could do.
Sean had heard it in the field, as well, when one of his partners had been killed in the line of duty. He was only twenty-seven and had his whole life in front of him.
In an instant, a bullet had taken away all those dreams of travel, seeing the sights of the world, experiences that other cultures could bring, visions of family vacations, children, and marriage, all of it. Every single goal and vision had been ripped away by an assassin’s bullet.
He wasn’t about to let that happen to this poor girl. Sean spotted a crag to the left of the girl’s hip. It wasn’t much; maybe just a few millimeters deep. It was something, though, and all he had.
He took a deep breath and pushed up with his right leg once more while stretching out his left hand. He felt the toe of his shoe slip, and, for a second, fear surged through him.
Sean leaned forward as his fingers scratched the surface of the rock and caught on the minuscule lip next to the girl’s side. He was surprised to find it was slightly wider than he expected and he was able to get three fingers dug in to it to stabilize his momentum. He kept lifting his right foot until it was even with the girl’s and then planted the tip of the shoe on the ledge. He quickly brought up his left foot and stuck it next to hers, then pressed in on her back with his chest.
“It’s okay,” he said. “Just hold on a little longer. We’ll get you out of this.”
He could feel her breathing heavily. There were sobs mixed in with the panting.
“What’s your name?” Sean asked. He knew that in these kinds of situations, getting the person to talk was key. It helped take their mind off the direness of their situation.
“M-Molly,” she stuttered.
“Okay, Molly. My name is Sean, and the guy down below us—don’t look—is Tommy. We’re going to help you. Just keep a hold on the rock for another few seconds.”
Sean had no idea how he was going to get the girl down. She was probably five feet, six inches tall, half a foot shorter than him, and likely forty to fifty pounds lighter.
He checked the harness around his waist. There was no way he could get that off and slip it on to her, not given the current situation.
He could try to give her a boost to the guy above, who Sean had surmised was the boyfriend. That was no good, either. He’d likely lose his grip and she would tumble down over his back.
“Sean!” Tommy shouted from below.
Sean risked a glance down at his friend, focusing his vision on Tommy and not the deadly drop beneath.
Tommy had unhooked his rope, immediately plunging himself, as well as Sean, into danger. The two were connected, but now Tommy’s rope was no longer tied to his harness. That meant that if he fell, he was a dead man. And if Sean fell, same result.
Tommy held the rope in one hand with the knot tied on the end. He held on to the ledge with his other hand and started twirling the rope like a lasso. “Incoming!” he yelled.
Sean reached out his hand to catch the rope. Tommy flung it up, but Sean missed it, nearly losing his balance in the process. His left hand gripped the lip tighter to compensate, but the rope’s knot wrapped around his ankle and came to rest.
He swallowed and looked down at the knot hanging loosely on the top of his shoe. The slightest move and it would fall. He didn’t know if they had another chance. The girl’s feet were slipping with greater frequency. Sean took a breath and lifted his right knee toward his hand as he lowered his hand toward his knee. It was a delicate move, one that could have sent him and the girl tumbling to their death.
His balance held and he grasped the knot, clutching it tight with his fingers and thumb. He looped the rope under the girl’s armpits, around her waist, and back up under her armpits again.
“You,” he said to the boys and the other girl still above. “Take this rope and pull. Get away from the edge so you don’t come over. If the three of you pull, it should be easy. Got it?”
They nodded.
Sean tugged on the rope until he had a good chunk of it in hand and then tossed it up and over the ledge. The boyfriend grabbed it and backtracked to the other two, handing each of them a piece. The second girl was crying but took control of her emotions enough to pitch in.
The three pulled on the rope until it went taut.
“Okay, Molly. They’re going to pull. Just do your best pull-up, all right? Just like in gym class.”
“I can’t do a pull-up,” she whimpered.
“That’s okay. I’m going to push. They’re pulling. It’ll be easy. Ready?”
“Not really.”
“Too bad.”
“Pull,” Sean ordered.
The other three tugged on the rope. Molly’s knuckles whitened as she gave every ounce of strength left in her arms and back. Her feet scampered up the wall as the three kept backing up, dragging her up and over the lip until she was safely on top.
Sean felt relief wash over him as he saw the girl crawl away from the ledge. He swallowed hard. The lump in his throat scratched its way down his esophagus. He hadn’t even realized how thirsty he’d become due to the stress. Now it was hitting him.
“Hey, Sean?” Tommy shouted from down below.
Sean glanced over his shoulder and immediately felt a rush of fear come over him again. He held on tight to the rock’s lip.
“Yeah, Schultzie?”
“You think you could get that rope back from them? I don’t feel like free-climbing back down to the bottom.”
Sean forced a grin onto his face. “Now look who’s afraid of heights.”
3
Ellijay, Georgia
Former president John Dawkins sat in the humble dining room of his log cabin. It was situated in the Blue Ridge Mountains of Georgia, far away from the hustle and bustle of Atlanta, but close enough to a few towns that any conveniences he required were easily obtained.
There was a grocery store about fifteen minutes away by car, electricity was reliable and cheap, and he had decent cable service for the one flatscreen television hanging over the fireplace, though he hardly used it.
This place was his getaway from the pressures of life and all the steaming sewage that seemed to permeate American politics and culture these days.
He was glad to be out of the game and had retired to his primary home back in Nashville. His log cabin was for long weekends or the occasional vacation, a time to enjoy some local fishing, or simply to take in the fall colors.
Most of the
leaves had already fallen from the branches, leaving the skeletal brown silhouettes across the forests dotted intermittently with a random coniferous tree such as a spruce, fir, or pine.
Emily had just left to run to the supermarket for some groceries while he stayed around and enjoyed a cold Oktoberfest lager, one of the last he’d have for the year. It was annoying to him that some of his favorite brews were only available seasonally, but that was the nature of marketing, he supposed. Or maybe the breweries actually cared about tradition. Either way, he fully intended to savor this one, knowing there wouldn’t be more for another ten months.
The fire crackled in the hearth. Sparks shot up into the chimney’s flume as the tongues of flame spewed warm swaths of heat.
His Secret Service detail was outside the cabin, as they always were. He’d invite the men inside out of the cold, but he knew better. They were as resilient and tough as they were stubborn to their duty. Loyal to a fault, Dawkins had been surrounded by most of these guys since before winning his first presidential election.
There’d been a few changes. One of the older agents had retired last year. Another had taken a different position with the government. Other than that, however, his rotation of guards had stayed largely the same through the years, and Dawkins was happy to call them friends, though he thought of them more as family.
He took another sip of the lager, letting the bottle dangle in his fingers as he stared into the flames. It was getting late in the afternoon, and soon dark would be on them. He didn’t like how the sun went down so early in the late fall and winter, but he tried to make the best of it, usually with a good drink and, now, even better company.
Emily Starks was the director of Axis, an ultra secret agency that worked under the umbrella of the United States government. Getting her to take any time off seemed like a chore, and she often bemoaned the fact that she had too much work to do to simply run off to the mountains with a former president.
He usually laughed at her, calling her a workaholic more times than he could remember.
The Omega Project Page 3
