by Mark Romang
Tanner wound the rope through a loop stitched onto the top of a backpack. When he finished securing the backpack he gave the rope a tug, signaling C.J. to start hauling it up. The backpack ascended swiftly. A couple of minutes later the rope—freed from its burden—uncoiled at their feet. Twice more they attached backpacks and repeated the process. The rope returned as before. And then it was time for Tanner and her to start climbing.
“Okay, Brooke, I’m climbing up. I’ll see you at the top,” Tanner kissed her on the cheek and began climbing. She watched his ascent, hoping and praying she could duplicate his progress. Tanner ascended even faster than his brother. Hand over hand he climbed, not even using his feet to assist him. In hardly no time at all he wriggled through the hole at the top.
Brooke stood all alone in the dark cavern, her headlamp poking a tiny hole in the utter blackness.
It was her turn to climb now. Her sweaty hands began shaking at the intimidating thought. Flashbacks of gym class and her failed rope climbs played out in her head.
God, I’m counting on your righteous right hand to lift me up. No way can I do this on my own.
Brooke wiped her hands dry on her camouflage jeans. She grabbed the rope but didn’t start the climb. Her breath raced, and she wanted to even it out. Seconds ticked by. Tanner and C.J. called down to her, urging her to hurry. They mentioned something about a helicopter.
Brooke set her jaw. “Now or never,” she mumbled. She bent her knees slightly and sprang off the cave floor. She intended her leap to give her a head start. The less rope she had to climb the better.
She saved herself about two feet of climbing. Pitiful.
Her slender arms trembled as she climbed. She tried to use her feet to take some pressure off her arms. But the rope was in no way like the fat rope in gym class. This was a skinny climbing rope a mountaineer would use to rappel or prevent a fall. Her shoes just batted the rope around.
Despite an inner voice telling her not to do it, she looked down. The darkness masked the cavern floor for the most part, but her headlamp revealed a portion of its uneven surface. Panic squeezed at her. And it wasn’t because she was high up. Fear surged through her because she hadn’t made it very far. She estimated she was only ten feet in the air.
Thirty some feet to go. A daunting distance.
Brooke shifted her gaze upward onto the swaying rope and her trembling hands. Her hands were soft and not accustomed to gripping something so tightly. The rope abraded her palms. Still, she willed herself to not give up, to keep trying, to keep fighting.
Hand over hand, she inched upward.
She climbed another foot or so. And then three or four feet more.
But the invisible monster that slayed her when she rope-climbed in gym class struck again. Gravity tugged at her body. It wanted to kill her. She could feel it pulling her off the rope.
Brooke gripped the rope intensely, any tighter and her fingers would seize up. Her arms shook violently, and she feared her biceps would pop free from their tendons.
Too weak to climb, she clung in a static position. “Tanner! Help me! I’m losing my grip!”
“Hold on, Brooke! We’ll pull you up! Just don’t let go!” Tanner yelled down to her.
“Please hurry!” She honestly didn’t think she could hold on any longer. Her hands didn’t work right, and her arms were locked up tight with lactic acid. For a second or two she considered lifting her legs over her head and wrapping them around the rope. Her legs were much stronger than her arms, and they were still fresh. She could dangle upside down from the rope like a Cirque Du Soleil performer. But then she chickened out. Strengthen my arms and hands, Lord. Make me strong. I need your power to flow through me.
The short prayer—selfish and demanding though it was—cleared her head a bit. She could sense herself rising up through the darkness, almost rapidly when compared to her slow ascent just moments ago. Tanner and C.J. undoubtedly worked quickly to reel her up.
She didn’t weigh much. Her mannequin-thin figure hadn’t enjoyed junk food or sweets in over three years. Her brothers—though skinny like her—shouldn’t have any problem hauling her up. At least she hoped they wouldn’t.
Brooke could see the ceiling now. She neared the cavern’s highest point. Stalactites hung from the ceiling in uniform rows, and along with the stalagmites growing on the cavern floor, formed jagged upper and lower teeth. To fall now would bring about an ugly, splattering death. But it’s not going to come to that. God won’t drop me. I’m going to make it, she thought.
The hole slowly took shape, and then she saw hands reaching down—her brothers’ hands. Though they bickered sometimes over the silliest things, she loved C.J. and Tanner. They were the only family she had left. And as they gripped her arms and pulled her through the hole in the cavern ceiling, her love for her brothers soared to a newfound summit.
With their help, she wriggled out the hole and rolled over onto stable ground. From on her back she looked up into a blue sky and smiled. Even though she lived in the Tribulation period, it felt good to be alive. “I love you guys so much,” she said breathlessly.
Her joyous smile didn’t last long at all. Her grin turned into a frown when a noisy shadow passed overhead.
The shadow belonged to a helicopter, a white chopper emblazoned with a UWC logo.
And like an eagle gliding over a lake and searching for fish swimming close to the surface, the officers in the helicopter scanned the sub-alpine forest for two young men and a young woman.
Chapter 26
Brooke jumped to her feet. She watched the helicopter circle back around for another pass. “Do you think they spotted us?”
“I’m not sure. It could be they’re still searching for a way into the bunker,” Tanner answered.
“Or more likely they’re searching for signs of life, hoping they’ll spot us out in the open,” C.J. speculated.
“Either way they’re gunning for us,” Brooke said. “And here they come again. Should we run?”
“No, they’ll see us for sure. Just squat down in the undergrowth and make yourself small.”
They all did as Tanner suggested, hunkering down in the thimbleberry bushes. But it was late autumn and the bushes had dropped most of their foliage. Fortunately, they all wore forest-pattern camouflage jackets and pants. Brooke hoped the cammo attire would help them blend in with the earth and become less visible from above.
“If they’re using thermal imaging cameras they’ll still be able to see us,” C.J. mumbled.
“Doesn’t it have to be dark for those to work?” Brooke asked, still eyeing the helicopter.
C.J. shook his head. “Thermal imaging cameras work in daylight just as well as they do in the dark. They detect heat signatures.”
Brooke looked at C.J. “How do you know so much about thermal imaging cameras?”
“Dad once explained them to us when Tanner and I were building the bunker. He went over a lot of scenarios we might encounter out here.”
“So is there any way to defeat thermal imaging cameras?”
C.J. shook his head again. “Unless we can find a big herd of deer that will allow us to graze with them and hide our heat signatures, I will say no.”
Brooke watched the helicopter approach their position. “Eventually the helicopter will run low on fuel and have to fly back to a helipad or airport to refuel. If we can just stay on the run long enough, they’ll have to break away and head for civilization.”
“That’s about all we can hope for.”
Tanner turned to them. “I’m sorry, guys. This is all my fault. I got careless and brought them here.”
“What’s done is done, Tanner. We’ll adapt and overcome,” C.J. said. He patted his rifle. “And if that whirlybird gets close enough I’ll take out the pilot.”
“That doesn’t seem right to me. We’re Christians. We don’t murder people, especially other Americans.”
C.J. rolled his eyes. “Face the facts, Brooke. Those men in the
chopper are evil. They’re going to arrest us, and then take us to some town and execute us publicly. What’s more, I don’t consider them Americans. America doesn’t exist anymore, remember? According to Henrik Skymolt we are now living in Sector 12. The men inside the chopper are sellouts, henchmen for the Antichrist and servants to the devil. I wouldn’t feel an ounce of regret shooting them down.”
The helicopter flew right toward them, its landing skids almost skimming the treetops. “They see us alright,” Brooke said. “I think we should run.”
Tanner faced them. “I’m going to distract the chopper. Whatever direction you two go, I’ll head in an opposite direction and lead them away from you. They want me the most anyway.”
“I don’t like it. We shouldn’t separate.”
Tanner threw on his pack. “I caused this problem, Brooke. And now I’m going to fix it.”
“Where will you go? And how will we meet back up?”
“I’ll head toward Mt. Deception, and eventually make my way into Quilcene. We can rendezvous near the city limits. And we can communicate via the two-way radios.”
C.J. gripped his brother’s shoulder. “You’re not trying to become a martyr are you?”
Tanner shook his head. His blue eyes flashed. “You once told me I would know when it was time. It’s not time yet. There is still plenty of fight left in me.”
Brooke eyed the hovering chopper and the pilot inside. “Whatever we do we need to do it now. They’re looking right at us.”
Tanner waved at the helicopter and took off running in a northerly direction. C.J. shouldered his pack. Brooke did the same. “Come on, Sis. We’ll head south and run like the wind,” C.J. said. He grabbed her hand and they took off, sprinting for their lives.
Chapter 27
“So much for Tanner being a distraction,” C.J. panted. “The helicopter is chasing us instead.”
Brooke peeked over her shoulder as they hustled up a wooded slope. She couldn’t see the helicopter, but she could hear its unmistakable sound signature echoing off the terrain. The chopper sounded alarmingly close, no more than a hillside away.
They’d been on the run for nearly thirty minutes, using game trails whenever possible, but mostly crashing blindly through alder undergrowth. They changed directions often, zigging and zagging through the forest, fording streams and charging up and down ravines. And still the helicopter stalked them, shadowing their every move and hovering over them like a storm cloud.
Despite avoiding open areas and keeping to dense tree cover that should’ve made them invisible from above, the helicopter soon found them. Brooke could only conclude that C.J. was right about their pursuers using thermal imaging cameras.
The gradient increased drastically and slowed their madcap retreat to a crawl. They could no longer stand up. If they did they would likely tumble down the hillside.
Brooke grabbed at an exposed tree root to help pull her up. But the unstable ground beneath her feet suddenly collapsed. She found herself dangling once again. “C.J.! I need a hand!”
From on his knees, C.J. reached down and grabbed her hand. He tried to lift her up. She watched him grimace at the strain, but not let go. “Work your feet, Brooke. Find some purchase somehow. I can’t do it on my own. I’m hurting.”
Brooke looked down at the earth around her feet and searched for something—a ledge or another tree root to stand on. She spotted a half-buried rock jutting out a few inches. The rock lay a couple of feet above her ankles. Brooke swung her left leg up and positioned her foot on the rock. She shifted her weight onto it, relieving the strain on her brother.
“That’s much better,” C.J. gasped. “Now leap off your foothold and grab this sapling I’m holding onto, and then walk up your feet.”
Brooke eyed the young tree. Its position on the eroding hillside looked tenuous at best. “Is it strong enough for both of us?”
“Don’t think about it! Just do it!”
“Okay, okay, here goes.” Brooke let go of the tree root and simultaneously sprang off her tiny foothold. C.J. aided her momentum by pulling her upward. She grabbed at the sapling’s thin trunk and wrapped her free arm around it. At the same time, she walked her feet up the slope until she was on more stable ground with her brother.
“The footing should be easier from here out,” C.J. said.
Though the slope rose precipitously, they were able to crawl their way up, using saplings and shrubs and exposed tree roots to aid them. The sound of the tormenting helicopter quickened their movements. They skirted a large deadfall, and at last they reached the ridgeline.
Brooke smiled when she spotted a zip-line station positioned between two giant Sitka spruce trees. “Now we can travel faster.”
C.J. ran up to the trees and grabbed the wooden rungs screwed into one of the spruce trees. The rungs formed a crude ladder up the tree. He started climbing. Brooke followed him up. Atop the platform, C.J. pulled his belt from his pants and quickly tied his hands to the trolley handles with the belt.
“What are you doing that for?” she asked.
“I hurt my ribs, and I don’t trust myself to hang on when the pain hits.”
“How did you hurt your ribs?”
“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”
“Try me.”
“I jumped off a cliff into some fir trees. The trees broke my fall but also broke my ribs.”
“Okay, remind me to ask you at a more convenient time why you jumped off a cliff,” Brooke said as she grabbed the trolley handles, positioning her hands right next to C.J.’s.
“Are you ready?” C.J. asked.
Brooke wrapped her legs around C.J.’s waist. She nodded her head. “Now I am.”
C.J. stepped off the platform. They dropped about six feet before picking up any forward momentum. But that all changed in a hurry. They soon zinged down the cable, picking up speed quickly. Before long they hurtled through the forest. The trees became a green blur. They covered a long stretch of rugged terrain in a short time, skimming over pine-clad hills and crossing over stream-lined gorges from high up, the bird’s eye view mildly terrifying.
Preppers and anti-government rebels began constructing an amazing network of intersecting zip-lines on the peninsula shortly after the Rapture took place. Brooke was sure someone had mapped out all the zip-lines. But if that were the case, this person hadn’t shared their knowledge with very many, if any people. “Doing okay, brother?” she asked over the raucous growl of the hand trolley sliding down the zip-line cable.
C.J. nodded grimly. “Sometimes pain is good.”
The way they were positioned, face to face, C.J. saw what lay ahead of them, while Brooke watched the terrain they left behind. She didn’t see the helicopter anywhere, and could no longer hear it over the zip-line’s roar. It seemed too good to be true, but if they could only shake the chopper she could relax a bit.
She said a silent prayer for Tanner. She hated that they had separated. They were stronger together and weaker apart. Though Tanner’s reason for leaving them was noble, she remained unconvinced he did the right thing. Lord, please protect my brother. He’s all alone. Keep him hidden from the enemy. Keep us all hidden.
“Platform coming up!” C.J. shouted.
Brooke unwrapped her legs from C.J.’s waist. It was imperative they lift their feet and keep them up. If not their ankles might strike the platform and shatter upon entry. There came a loud popping sound as the trolley smacked into the braking block, slowing their momentum just before they reached the platform.
They let down their feet and touched down awkwardly on the wooden platform. “Whew, that was a crazy ride,” C.J. said.
“But we covered a lot of ground. And I don’t see or hear the helicopter anymore.”
C.J. glanced around. “You’re right. I don’t see it either. Should we take another line or climb down here?”
They stood on a four-way zip-line platform. Lines went off in all four directions. “Let’s do another, only
head east this time. We need to go that direction eventually if we’re to meet up with Tanner in Quilcene.”
C.J. nodded and hooked up the trolley to the zip-line heading east. He cinched his hands onto the trolley handle with the belt like he did before. Brooke gripped the trolley handle and they took off.
One-hundred and fifty yards later they landed onto another platform and disembarked, climbing down a towering spruce tree. At the bottom, C.J. slumped against the tree’s base. “I have to rest, Brooke. I’m gassed. I’ve had a rough day.”
She took off her backpack and sat down next to him, leaning her back against the tree. She opened the main pouch on the pack and pulled out a first aid kit. She gathered her stethoscope and placed the earpieces in her ears. She placed the scope’s diaphragm over C.J.’s chest. “Okay, breathe deeply for me.”
C.J. did as instructed. Brooke moved the stethoscope into several different places on her brother’s torso and had C.J. breathe deeply each time. She took the earpieces out and put the stethoscope back into the pack. “Well, your lungs sound normal. So I don’t think any of your ribs punctured your lungs and deflated them. That’s good news.”
Brooke opened the first aid kit and selected a bottle of Ibuprofen and gave C.J. four tablets. “This will help with your rib inflammation. And once an hour I want you to cough or breathe deeply. Doing that will help prevent a partial lung collapse and guard against pneumonia.”
C.J. took the tablets and washed them down with water from a small flask. Brooke looked at him closely. “Any other injuries I need to know about?”
C.J. nodded sheepishly. “My ankle is swollen. And I have a cut on my scalp.”
“Show me the cut first.”
C.J. tilted his head so she could examine his scalp. Dried blood matted his hair. She pushed aside a clump of his black hair and saw an inch-long gash. She whistled. “What in the world? You have a giant splinter in there. And there are a bunch of needles in your hair.”
