by Bryan Davis
Suppressing a groan, he struggled to his feet and helped Francesca up, then Kelly. He rubbed a scraped elbow through the sleeve. “Are you two okay?”
Kelly took in several deep breaths and nodded without a word, but she grimaced as she held a hand over her shoulder. Francesca extended the violin. One of the strings dangled, a curl of wire bouncing up and down underneath. She pulled it out and tossed it away. “The key will be tougher to play without that string.”
“You'll adjust.” Nathan picked up one end of the bow. “At least this isn't broken.”
“Thank God for that,” Francesca said.
He looked up through the glass door. No sign of stalkers. “We'd better get moving.”
Francesca led the way, padding softly on the uneven steps. When she reached the dead end, she applied the key again, adjusting her fingers to play each note on the three remaining strings.
As before, a glow ate away the door. A light from the other side cast a dim wash over their bodies, allowing Nathan to set a hand on Kelly's good shoulder. “Watch your step. The next one's a real doozy.”
16
HEALING MUSIC
Kelly peered down into the dark chasm, looking past a rope dangling from a pulley in front of her. “Whew! Good thing Daryl Blue isn't here to see this.”
“Exactly why I wanted her to stay at the observatory.” Nathan bit his lip. That came out more harshly than he had intended.
Francesca used the smaller bow to draw the rope into the corridor. “We have to be extra careful. It isn't a vision this time. No waking up if we fall.”
Nathan shivered at the thought of plunging helplessly into the void. “Let's get going. Leave the big bow here for now.” He pulled the basket to the top, got inside, and copied the lowering procedure he had used in the vision. It seemed odd that every sensation felt the same, the heavy weight of the loaded basket and the warming friction as the rope slid through his hands. Yet this time the lingering fear made his arms quiver.
Gritting his teeth, he focused on his father's words, a lesson that now seemed a century old. If you really believe you have an immovable foundation, even if you plunge through a thousand evils, you know you will eventually land in a place of safety. Courage isn't the absence of fear. It's the ability to control fear and do what you have to do in spite of it. If you have faith in the one who calls you to a task, you just do it and trust that he'll get you out of a jam.
After swinging over to the side of the chasm, he pulled the rope to send the basket back to the top.
Francesca's voice filtered to his level. “I'll go first,” she said to Kelly. “Watch what I do.” She climbed into the basket, waited for Nathan to lower her, and then worked with him to swing to the side. He glanced back at the iron hook in the wall, his anchor in case he couldn't hold the weight. If the rope slipped, at least they wouldn't fall forever.
After using the hooked rod to haul her in, he reeled the basket up again. Moving stiffly, Kelly copied Francesca's actions, and when all three stood safely on the ledge, Nathan let out a long breath and pointed at the violin strings spanning the chasm. “Can't play them without the bow.”
Nathan climbed into the basket and, with the girls' help, hauled himself up. When he finally reached the stairwell he found the bow hanging over the doorway threshold. He fastened the rope around his waist, grabbed the bow, and balanced it on the top edge of the basket. Then, after loosening the rope again, he and the girls reeled him down. As soon as the basket reached a point just above the strings, he stopped its descent. “Okay,” he called. “As soon as I tie myself in place, you two go to the fingerboard.”
He looped the rope around his chest and fastened a double knot. Then, as if a child again on a playground swing set, he pushed his body against the basket and forced it into a slow swing, making the arc bigger and bigger as he continued to heave back and forth. Once he started playing the strings, he wouldn't be able to keep the momentum going, so he had to get as much amplitude as he possibly could.
As the basket swayed over the strings, he looked at the oversized fingerboard. Kelly sat in Francesca's lap. Their combined weights held down the string in the proper place to play the first note.
Taking a deep breath, Nathan grasped the bow with both hands and leaned heavily against the side of the basket, making it tip over. He pressed his feet against the sides to keep the basket in place and lowered the bow toward the string. Letting it rub gently, it played the first note of “Foundation's Key.” A loud tone erupted from the string and reverberated through the chasm. The chamber's faint light strengthened. The walls shook. Rocks broke away and tumbled into the void.
As he swung back for the next note, he glanced at the girls. Fighting the quakes, they staggered to the proper string and pounced on it.
Now approaching the string, he pushed the bow down and stroked it smoothly. Again, the note echoed through the chamber and shook the walls, and again the girls rocked back and forth. With the chamber still brightening, the fear in their faces clarified. Francesca barked out their next position as they hurried to the third string.
The torturous process continued through the fourth, fifth, and sixth notes, until a shrill voice sang from above. Nathan glanced up. A stalker glared down at him, apparently cursing him in his strange musical tongue.
“No time to sing with you,” Nathan mumbled. “I'm kind of busy.”
As he swung back for a seventh note, a tug on the rope jerked him out of line, but he managed to adjust the bow's position enough to play the note. He looked up. Two stalkers pulled violently on the rope while a third looked on from behind. With a mighty heave, the two yanked again. The basket slipped away from Nathan's feet and shot toward the ceiling.
Still clutching the bow, he plunged feet first into the void. When the basket snagged on the pulley, the rope tightened with a twang, and the knot he had fashioned punched him in the solar plexus, knocking his breath away. The loop slid up his sides, ripping his skin before stopping at his underarms.
Trying to catch his breath, he looked all around. Above, the stalkers worked feverishly to jerk the basket loose and send Nathan plummeting. Below, the dark reaches seemed just a bit brighter, a vague grayness.
Up at the ledge, Kelly held the loose rope that led to the anchor hook in one direction and down to Nathan in the other. She leaned over the chasm as far as she could. “Hang on! Francesca will talk to those idiots!”
Francesca played the smaller violin with a raging flare, scolding the stalkers with rapid-fire shots of squealing notes.
One of the stalkers sang in reply, an equally blistering volley of shrieks.
Kelly yelled the translation. “You fools are destroying our world! You will kill us all and ruin our escape plans!”
The knot that fastened the rope to Nathan's body slipped, loosening the loop around his chest. Still clutching the bow, he grabbed the line with his free hand. “Tell him their plans will kill billions of people!”
Francesca played the reply. The stalker spat out a quick retort and continued working on freeing the basket. Nathan held on tighter. If that crazy shrieker succeeded, the anchor hook would be the only thing keeping him from a final plunge.
Kelly cupped her hands around her mouth and shouted again. “He says, ‘Who cares about your world?’ He added a couple of other words, but I won't repeat them.”
The knot unraveled. Just before the loop slipped away, Nathan dropped the bow and wrapped both hands in the rope. As the stalkers jostled his lifeline, he began to swing again. The rope slid through his fingers with every pass through the arc.
Above, Kelly kept her grip on the line that led from him to the loose coil on the ledge and then to the anchor. There was no way she would be able to haul him up, and, if the basket ripped away, he definitely didn't want to jerk her down with him. “Kelly! Let go of that rope! The hook should hold me if I fall.”
Even as his words echoed around him, he wondered if he could hold on if he fell far enough to reel out
the slack between him and the anchor.
Kelly let go and stood next to Francesca, who continued assaulting the stalkers with frenetic notes. They ignored her and tore at the basket's wicker until it looked like shredded wheat. Suddenly, one of the stalkers tumbled into the void, then the other two followed. Flailing their arms, they plunged into darkness.
As Nathan swung to the side, one white-haired body zoomed past him, then another. The third one thrust out his hand and clawed Nathan's back, digging five sharp nails deeply before snagging his belt. The rope slid at least a foot in Nathan's grip. Blood seeped between his fingers, but the loop around his knuckles drew tight, halting his fall.
The stalker, now hanging on by one hand, flapped an arm, reaching for the rope with his other hand, but it kept jerking away as the two fought for position.
Nathan kicked savagely at the stalker's body, then tried to plant a foot on his shoulder. As they struggled, Nathan caught a glimpse of his face— Tsayad, the same stalker who had greeted them on their first visit. At that time, he had seemed like a friendly host, but now he was the grim reaper. The result of this meeting would be “kill or be killed.”
Finally, Nathan shoved his heel into Tsayad's neck and pushed with all his might. The stalker's gripping fingers stretched out, and he slipped away, screaming a cacophonous song as he vanished into the grayness below.
Nathan regripped the rope and looked up. Daryl stood at the edge of the doorway, frantically trying to pull the basket down as it continued to rip against the pulley.
“Daryl! How did you —”
“Never mind that!” she shouted. “Can Kelly and Francesca pull you up? I won't be heavy enough to counter your weight!”
Nathan looked at his torn hands. Blood streamed down his forearms as he called back. “They're at the other end of the rope. I would have to change my grip, and I'm not sure I can without falling.”
“Should I try to find a winch of some kind?”
“No time!” Kelly screamed. “Swing him toward me!”
Daryl grasped the rope and worked it back and forth. Nathan timed her efforts and helped from his end. Soon, he could touch the sheer walls on each side, still far below Kelly's level.
Kelly picked up the hooking pole and fished for the rope but couldn't quite reach it. She dropped to her stomach and extended as far as she could. As he swung to the opposite side, Nathan could see Francesca sitting between Kelly's legs, gripping one with each arm. As she pushed Kelly farther out, she yelled. “Don't worry! I've got you!”
Finally, Kelly snagged the rope. “Pull me back!”
Nathan tried to watch their efforts, but as Kelly eased back up on the ledge, all he could see was the rope hooked in the pole and Kelly's and Francesca's fingers wrapped around the end. As they pulled, Nathan tried to push his shoes against the wall and climb, but his toes couldn't catch hold of any crevices. With rivulets of blood now pouring into his sleeves, he couldn't hold out much longer.
With Francesca still holding on to the rope, Kelly leaped out, grabbed it, and began to climb toward the top. Gripping with hands and crossed legs, she slowly inched upward, the sounds of gentle grunts making their way down to Nathan's ears as she huffed and puffed.
Nathan held his breath. With her shoulder so badly wounded, how could she possibly make that climb? The pain had to be pure torture.
Daryl, now on her knees, reached out a hand, but Kelly was still far below … struggling, grunting … gaining a foot or two, then sliding down a few inches before battling again to regain lost ground.
“Come on, Kelly-kins!” Daryl yelled. “You can do it!”
The mystery of Daryl's presence rushed back into Nathan's brain. Had she already rescued her uncle? With time racing so quickly on Earth Yellow, that made sense. Apparently Dr. Simon had kept his word and allowed her to join them. It was a good thing! Without her kicking the three stalkers over the edge, he would have been done for.
The seconds dragged on. Kelly inched upward, slowing as she neared the top. Finally, Daryl thrust a hand down and jerked her to safety in the stairwell. Kelly struggled to her feet, whirled back toward the rope, and, with Daryl hanging on to her waist, leaned back over the void. She grabbed the remnants of the basket and jumped out over the chasm. Their combined weights lifted Nathan upward. At the ledge down below, Francesca reeled the line through her hands, guiding him to her, while Kelly and Daryl sank toward the violin strings.
Even from where he dangled, Nathan could see Daryl's terrified eyes, but she managed to keep her body relatively calm, just a few weak kicks with her feet as she struggled to hang on to Kelly's waist.
When he came within reach, Francesca clutched his shirt with one hand and hoisted him to safe footing. Still holding on to the rope, he spun around and helped Francesca pull. They stopped Kelly and Daryl's slow descent. The two girls hung over the void, their bodies twisting as they swung back and forth. With each pass, their feet swept just inches over the violin strings. The basket, now torn to shreds, fell away piece by piece until it was gone.
With Francesca standing in front of him, Nathan pulled the rope, but it slid through his bloody hands. They were too wet and pain-racked to hang on.
Francesca kept a firm grip. “We can do this!” she yelled. Inch by inch they managed to haul Daryl and Kelly a foot higher.
“Hang on!” Kelly yelled. “We'll swing toward you!”
Nathan tried to ignore the blood still dripping from his throbbing hands. “When they get close to this side, we'll have to let out line to lower them to the ledge.”
Francesca nodded, grunting. Sweat streamed down her cheeks and dampened her collar. As she and Nathan pulled and released, Kelly and Daryl swung precariously, coming closer and closer to the ledge with each cycle. Twenty feet away. Fifteen feet away. Ten.
“Almost here!” Francesca yelled. “A couple more times ought to do it!”
Nathan glanced at the hooked pole. That would help, but could he grab it without letting go of the rope? He shook his head. It wasn't worth the risk.
As the two girls swung away again, Daryl stared wild-eyed at the void below. When they passed over the center, her dangling feet brushed one of the strings, playing a loud, vibrating note. Again, the echoes bounced off the walls. The floor shook and buckled beneath their feet.
Francesca dropped to her knees and lost her hold on the rope. Nathan tightened his grip and looped his legs around Francesca's torso, anchoring him in place. He had to elevate them! Fast!
Flexing his muscles, he pulled with all his might. Pain shot through his torn hands. Once again, the rope slipped through the blood. Daryl smacked into the strings, tearing her loose from Kelly. As Kelly continued on her arc toward the ledge, Daryl clutched a violin string with one hand, her legs kicking wildly over the void. “Kelly! Help me!”
Francesca climbed to her feet and held the rope again. With the pressure lessened, Nathan snatched up the hook and reached for Kelly. She swiped it away and, after sliding down to a knot, she held on with one hand and swung back toward Daryl. She reached down and grabbed a string. It stretched for a second, then pulled her back to the center. Still holding on to the rope, Kelly released the string and snagged a fistful of Daryl's shirt.
“I've got you!” Kelly yelled. “Let go!”
“I can't! I'll fall!”
“You won't fall! I won't let you fall!”
“You can't hold my weight with one hand! Your shoulder's hurt!”
Kelly grunted so loud, her voice seemed to shake the floor. “You just … have to … trust me!”
“I can't!” Daryl stared down at the void again and shook her head frantically. “I just can't!”
Kelly looked at Nathan, her eyes wild. “Pull us up! I'll have to jerk her loose!”
Nathan strained against the rope. “How about if we set you down on the strings?”
“No! This one's about to break! I don't think it will hold us.”
Nathan and Francesca pulled. Kelly rose, still clu
tching Daryl's shirt. For a moment, the shirt slipped up over her head, exposing a thin camisole underneath as well as her waist, but when it caught under her arms, she began to rise. As her waist elevated to the string's level, she hung on, halting her progress and stretching the string upward.
“Let go!” Kelly screamed. “You're slipping!”
Daryl said nothing. Her face as taut as the string, she just hung on.
Kelly turned again to Nathan. “Give us a hard pull!”
“No!” Daryl shouted. “I'll let go!” She closed her eyes, then, after taking a deep breath, released the string. Kelly shot up, Daryl still in her grip. The string let out a thunderous twang. The walls and floor responded with a jolt that rocked the entire foundation.
Nathan and Francesca fell on their backsides. The rope reeled through their fingers, but Nathan twisted his hand and caught the line, jerking the girls to a stop.
Daryl's shirt slipped over her head, leaving it flapping in Kelly's hand. Daryl plummeted into the darkness, screaming, “Kelly!”
“Oh my God!” Kelly's call stretched out, loud and wailing. “Daryl!”
Francesca struggled to her feet and buried her face in her hands. “Oh, Lord! Have mercy!”
Nathan, now holding Kelly's weight by himself, called out, his voice shaking as the ground settled. “Swing back, before you fall, too!”
Sobbing, Kelly began swinging the rope, her gaze fixed on the void. As she neared the ledge, Nathan pulled her into a final swing. She let go of the rope and landed gracefully. She fell to her knees and banged her fists on the ground, one hand still hanging on to Daryl's shirt. “Why did you let this happen?” she screamed. “Why?”
Francesca stooped and rubbed Kelly's back, but she said nothing.
Nathan looped the rope around the pole and fell to the ground next to Kelly. He reached out to touch her head, but drew his hand back as blood dripped to the rocky floor. She, too, dripped blood from one hand. A path of dark red dampened her sweatshirt at the shoulder and stretched down her arm.
