by Andy McNab
I tried to speak again, but as Geri tried to catch her breath, it was Miss D who butted in.
“So why did you both choose the rapids? Because I know you. I know you’re not stupid.”
“It was Dylan, Miss.”
“Not this again! I told you very clearly to steer clear of him. So why couldn’t you do that? What did he do this time? Did he point you the wrong way? Or tamper with the sign?”
My brain stung with the desire to lie and scream “YES, BOTH OF THOSE THINGS!”But I couldn’t, could I? Cos it’s not true, and cos, unlike Dyl, I have standards, which is a word he can’t even spell, never mind understand. But I did have to stand my ground.
“He didn’t exactly point us the wrong way, Miss, but he’s been messing with my head ever since we arrived. There was the nettles on my wotsit, then he strung me upside down from that tree. Honest, Miss, all he wants to do is ruin everything for me! He won’t stop until he breaks me!”
I wanted to see Miss D soften, not cos I was spinning her a line, but cos it was true and cos she knows what Dyl is like. She taught him too, back in the day.
But her cross face didn’t change a bit, and Geri’s hardened like a sandwich left out in the sun.
“I’m sorry, boys, but any kind of provocation doesn’t excuse what you did. We are lent this river on trust, and after today I’d be surprised if we’re ever allowed to set foot here again. And as for your future on the rest of this trip, well let’s just say I’ve already checked train times home.”
It felt like the world was ending in that second.
“You’re … you’re kicking us off the trip?” I asked.
“I can’t have recruits putting others at risk.
Tomorrow is our final expedition, the most dangerous yet, and what happens if you decide to go rogue then, hhhm? How many lives would be at risk if you decide to ignore orders at sixty feet from the ground?”
“We’ll do anything, Geri, Miss, anything not to go home.”
I looked at both of them, pleading with every muscle, every cell in my body. “I’ll wash up for the rest of the trip, I’ll even clean the toilet tent, with my tongue if I have to, I’ll do anything as long as you don’t send me home…”
“I think the washing up will be enough,” Geri grimaced. “But first, the three of us have to return all these nests to their rightful places. We can only hope that the eggs have not been damaged by your recklessness.”
“We’ll do anything, anything you say, and we’re sorry.”
I turn to Miss, even though it’s not my fault. “I really am.” And I meant it, and we did it. We returned the nests, although hanging out on thin branches across the river felt just as dangerous as riding the rapids in the first place. But we did it with a smile and “Yes” and “Thank you” and plenty of “Anything you say”.
Even now it’s midnight and I ache from forehead to toe, and I’m still scrubbing pots in lukewarm water, I stay polite. And apologetic. So much so that at the end of the chores, when my eyes are closing, I hear the words I’m desperate to hear.
“Gentlemen, you have one more chance, but be warned: you are drinking in the last chance saloon. Don’t mess this up, and don’t let me down.”
Relief floods my body. I’m too tired for elation, or even mild excitement.
Instead, I thank Geri and fall through the flaps into my tent.
I’m asleep before my head hits the pillow.
It’s the last morning of our trip and we have a “big day ahead”, though what that actually means none of have a clue. Doesn’t stop everyone gossiping though.
“Am sure I saw quad bikes parked up in the next field…”
“I reckon we’ll be canyoning…”
“Segways!”
Jonny goes to open his mouth but is shouted down before he declares he’s seen Geri carrying an astronaut’s helmet.
I don’t mind what we do to be honest. There’s no way Geri’s going to let us go home without a proper bang, and I’m just relieved to still be here.
I give Dyl as much of a wide berth as I can, but I feel him looking at me and laughing, remembering how many times he’s stitched me up, probably, and working out the next angle, the ultimate humiliation.
I milk the cow that he isn’t holding in case he winds it up and it kicks me, and I do six loops of the toilet tent before stepping foot in it, just in case he’s lurking, waiting to pull the whole thing down on top of me.
I’m not paranoid or anything – I’m just not taking any chances when it comes to today. In fact, it’s a relief when Geri calls us together, though I daren’t look her in the eye in case she takes it the wrong way and makes me ride Flossy to the train station.
“Recruits!” she barks, stood to attention, “By the end of the day, I will not be able to call you that any more. By the end of the day you will have shed this skin. By the end of the day, you will be dirty and barely able to keep your eyes open. But you will be soldiers and warriors, each and every one of you.”
It’s a rallying call, that’s for sure, and I think I can see Dyl getting emotional to my right, the plonker. He probably reckons he’ll be James Bond or something by nightfall.
“Your mission today is three-pronged,” Geri continues. “It starts, with a climb: a tough, one-hour ascent up a granite rock face that will not forgive any mistakes. It will hurt. Your muscles will ache; your fingers will feel like they no longer belong to you. But you must persevere, as waiting for you in the clouds is a tree-top challenge that would test even the hoolock gibbons of Eastern Bangladesh.
You will be higher than any tower block in any city in the world, but you will have to navigate your way, branch to branch, before you can reach the final challenge: the single longest zip line this country has to offer. Clinging on for dear life you will hit speeds that would make a Formula One driver queasy. You will be travelling so fast the g-forces will blow your cheeks neatly behind your ears…’”
I feel my cheeks clench with nerves… and not the ones on my face.
“Only when you feel your feet back on terra firma, and the dizziness turns into pure euphoria, will you be a Wild Out graduate. Many have failed, but that is not an option for any of you today. We go home triumphant, and we go home together!”
All right, so it’s a bit dramatic – like she’s been watching DVDs of that fat baldy bloke who fought off Hitler while sticking the V’s to everyone – but it does the job, and we fall in behind her, marching to the mountain, carrying ropes so long that it looks like we’ll be climbing all the way to Mars.
By the time we reach the bottom of the rock face, it actually feels like that might be the case. I can’t describe how tall it is, because we can’t even see the top. It creeps into a cloud that clings ominously to it.
“We’ve got to climb through the clouds?” Giraffles asks, though it’ll only take five minutes for his neck to disappear into it.
“Into the unknown, Thomas, but the weather is fair… for now.”
“For now?” I gulp.
“This valley has its very own climate. And the weather can turn in an instant. We will have to be at our very toughest should it decide to test us.”
I say nothing more, though my Adams apple has morphed into a grapefruit. It dawns on me that I’ve never done this before. The others have – they had a full day of it while I was nursing my bum cheeks – but for me, this is new territory. All right, I’ve climbed a few walls in my life, and fallen off way more than I’d like, but this is… different.
It’s scary.
And it only gets scarier as I watch my friends spider their way up, struggling to get a hold of the mountain’s rough face.
I wait, and I exhale, trying to hold my nerve, until my time comes, and Geri attaches a rope to my harness, and barks the order:
“Climb, Danny Mack. Climb.”
Fifteen minutes in and I know three things:
1. I am tired
2. I am not a mountain goat
3. There’s
nothing more demoralizing than being outclimbed by a woman old enough to be a caveman’s grandma
I don’t know where she gets her energy (or her robotic limbs) from, but I wouldn’t mind a phone number so they could sort me out too.
Everything hurts, from my fingers that cling to the rock, to my arms (working muscles that I’m sure don’t even exist), right down to my toes that have to wedge themselves into crevices to stop me falling backwards.
“Use the power in your legs, Danny,” Geri says. “They’re stronger than your arms, so use them as levers to push you up.”
I try, honest I do, but I think all of Dyl’s torture must’ve sapped me in some way. Removed my life force. I used to think I was a Jedi, and although I’m definitely feeling greener than Yoda, that’s definitely where the comparison ends.
I cling to the rock, craning my neck to look above, and see everyone else practically skipping up. Giraffles is covering ten metres with every stretch of his arms, MandM are climbing side by side, arms and legs moving together so smoothly that they look like some kind of weird mutant spider. Lucky, I swear, is singing as he goes, and even Jonny seems to be nailing it just by not saying anything stupid for a while.
“I can do this,” I say to myself, “If they can do it, then I can too.” And I dig in, stretching my fingers to a good handhold, listening to Geri as she tells me again and again to, “plot your path in advance. Like you’re playing chess.”
Chess? Right now I doubt I could win a game of noughts and crosses, and this is proven by the fact that the piece of rock in my hand is even more tired than me and comes away from the mountain, leaving me to topple backwards.
I make a noise that I have no idea how to spell, and grapple at the wall for some kind of safety, but it offers nothing and instead I fall, my stomach clenching, and my entire being screaming in fear.
I don’t know how to describe how it feels to fall, except it’s like I’m plummeting for minutes instead of seconds before the safety brake kicks in and I’m thrown into a hug with the rock, which doesn’t offer much sympathy in return.
It hurts.
A lot.
Not that I see much in the way of sympathy from Geri, either, although the others shout support from above.
“The clock is ticking, Mr Mack,” she says, and I see her frown doubly when she looks above.
“What is it?” I ask.
“Nothing,” she replies, though her forehead is yelling LIE. “Keep moving, soldier. That’s an order.”
I know better than to ask any more questions, and attach my grip back to the rock to start again, trying to remember everything she’s already told me.
Progress is slow and painful, and now I daren’t look up or down. It’s too depressing to see my mates so far ahead, and too flippin’ terrifying to see how far away the ground is. So instead, I focus on my hands above me, watching as the exertion turns my fingers blue.
“Come on!” I say through gritted teeth, “don’t let Dylan beat you.”
And you know what? I find a rhythm. It might only be the rhythm of a watch whose battery is dying but it’s a rhythm all the same, and it’s mine. Metre by metre, ledge by ledge, I edge slowly upwards, and I feel my confidence grow. I start to feel almost a little bit proud, like I want my mates to see I’m catching them up, so I look up, finally, ready to shout, but…
They’ve gone.
I can’t see a single one of them, and I know they’ve not fallen as they would’ve taken me with them. Instead, they’ve been eaten by the cloud. Except it’s not like any cloud I’ve ever seen before, and it’s definitely not the light fluffy one that was casually hanging around when we set off.
This one is dark, and heavy, uglier even than Dylan. And the second I see it, I know what Geri had been staring at worriedly. You don’t have to be a weather woman to know what’s lurking inside it, or the fact that it means trouble for us all.
“Er, Geri?” I offer.
“No time for chitchat, Danny. Keep climbing.”
I don’t say another word.
I have a feeling I’m going to need every breath in my lungs.
Do you ever imagine what it’s like inside a cloud?
Cos I do, and I’ll tell you something: I never imagined it would be like this.
It’s not light, or airy. There aren’t birds relaxing on plump, airy cloud-pillows, snacking on worms and singing to each other.
It’s dark and damp, and it’s hard to even see where your fingers are, never mind whether they’re attached to the rock that’ll stop you falling. The air is cold. It clings to my face and hands, but there’s no way of warming up my fingers or any other part of me. Apart from by climbing. The faster I climb, the speedier the blood flows, and the warmer I’ll get.
I don’t need Geri to tell me this, either. I’m smart enough to do the maths, no matter what my brother might tell you.
So I double my efforts – triple them even. Put every bit of muscle that I have into it, no matter how much it hurts.
And I go up, up, up.
Then, from somewhere above, sweet music. Not the birds cheeping, but a Giraffles shouting.
“Danny? Danny mate, that you?’”
I squint through the cloud, dampness hugging my face.
“Yeah! Where are you?”
“Straight up, see? Here. At the top!”
I squint, but it’s really thick now, like in one of those films where a cloud swallows everyone alive. Except when you’re watching the film, you know it’s fake and your mouth’s full of popcorn.
All I can taste at the moment is fear, and it’s neither sweet nor salted.
“Keep looking,” he yells, “I can see you. Just. And keep going. You’re nearly there!’”
That’s all I need to hear to propel me on, and I power up, even shocking Geri, who doesn’t look as in control as she usually does. In fact, for the first time since we’ve met her, she looks her age, which at the moment seems to be pushing a hundred and seventy-two.
“Here,” says Giraffles, no longer needing to shout. “Reach up…” and I do, feeling two hands hoist me roughly over the rocks, not that I feel it – there’s too much adrenalin coursing through my body. It’s just a relief to know that I’m not going to die on that mountain’s face, though judging by the expressions of the others huddled around me, we might be about to freeze to death whilst sat at the top.
“How long have you been waiting?” I ask Giraffles.
“Not long, really. Soon as the cloud dropped, everyone slowed down. Can’t believe how cold it is; it’s not even bloomin’ winter.”
“No one ever said it would be easy!” booms Geri behind us, slicing through the cloud like an elderly robotic ninja. “This is the life of a soldier. Now sit together. Huddle close and preserve heat. Eat, refuel, then we move on.”
“Er, Geri…?” asks Jonny, and we wait for his latest piece of brilliance. “Shouldn’t we, you know, go back down? The weather’s a bit … scary, innit?”
Mouths open, jaws drop. I swear that somewhere in the distance I hear an angel sing HALLELUJAH! because, you know what, Jonny’s speaking something resembling sense, isn’t he? It’s dark, it’s cold and its foggy so calling it quits and heading down to safety and a steaming mug of hot chocolate make sense to a lot of us. MandM have already stood up and are attaching themselves back on to the ropes.
Geri, however, has other ideas.
“Down? Down?! There is no down. Well, there is, but we can’t go down the way we came up. Because none of you know how to abseil, do you?’
Heads shake. A lot of us don’t even know what the word means…
“Can’t we get a helicopter to fetch us?” asks Lucky, whose dad probably has a couple tucked away in the garage.
“Or an eagle with a saddle,” adds Jonny helpfully, which makes Geri even more determined to push on.
“If we move quickly and with togetherness, we will be fine. This weather wasn’t forecast so I’m sure it will clear quickly. Trust
me.”
And we do. Course we do. Cos, to be honest, there isn’t another choice…
For fifteen minutes, we stumble along the rock face, hoods up and mouths closed. It’s greasy underfoot, like someone’s poured washing-up liquid under our trainers, and there’s the constant echo of shouts as, one after another, children fall flat on their bums.
“GET UP!”yells Geri, every time. “GET UP, AND GET ON!”
But that’s easier said than done, because the weather decides that instead of clearing up as she demanded, it’s going to dig its heels in and stick its tongue out in the worst way imaginable.
It starts with a huge rasping raspberry of a wind that comes from nowhere, battering our faces and whipping at our waterproofs.
“It’s OK,” shouts Geri, “this is good! The wind will blow the clouds away quicker. The sun will be out in no time.”
But the weather is obviously listening and – oh boy – it does not like Geri, because it reaches into its huge bag of tricks and throws a belter of a weapon straight into her face.
Rain.
And not just the pittery-pattery variety.
No, this is rain that has been sharpened into tiny, lethal arrowheads and spat, in its thousands, directly into our faces, forcing us to hunch over to protect our eyes, while struggling with the treacherously slippy rock beneath our feet.
“Move quickly but carefully. The woods are only two hundred metres ahead!” Geri squeals, barely loud enough to beat the sounds of our complaints.
But, the woods might as well be two hundred miles away, cos the weather hurls the double whammy of rain AND wind at us, and it’s a murderous act with disastrous results.
Many of us are on the small side, and as a result don’t weigh an awful lot. Jonny in particular would barely trouble a set of scales, but he’s not the one most affected by the gusts hammering us.
