James Chase: Lay Her Among the Lilies

Kerman joined me on the ledge. His face was glistening with sweat, and his legs seemed shaky.

“This has cooled me off mountain climbing,” he panted. “One time I was sucker enough to imagine it’d be fun. Think we’ll get over the bulge?”

“We’ll damn well have to,” I said, staring up into the darkness. “There’s no other way now but to keep going. Imagine trying to climb down!”

I sent the beam of the flashlight searching the cliff face again. To our left and above us was a four-foot-wide crevice that went up beside the bulge.

“See that?” I said. “If we got our feet and shoulders against the sides of that opening we might work our way up past the bulge.”

Kerman drew in a deep breath.

“The ideas you get,” he said. “It can’t be done.”

“I think it can,” I said, staring at the walls of the crevice. “And I’m going to try.”

“Don’t be a fool!” Alarm jumped into his voice. “You’ll slip.”

“If you want to try the bulge, try it. This is my way.”

I swung off the ledge, groped for a foothold, edged my hand along the cliff face until I got a grip and started up again. It was slow and difficult work. The hazy moonlight didn’t help me much, and most of the time I had to feel for handholds. As my head and shoulders came level with the bottom of the crevice the knob of rock on which I was standing gave under me. I felt it shift a split second before it went and I threw myself forward, clawing at the rock bed of the crevice in a frantic effort to get a hold. My fingers hooked into a ridge of rock and there I hung.

“Take it easy!” Kerman bawled, as hysterical as an old lady with her dress on fire. “Hang on! I’m right with you!”

“Stay where you are,” I panted. “I’ll only take you down with me.”

I tried to get a foothold, but the toes of my shoes scraped against the cliff face and trod on air. Then I tried to draw myself up, pulling the whole of my weight with my fingertips, but that couldn’t be done. I managed to raise myself a couple of inches and that’s as far as I got.

Something touched my foot.

“Take it easy,” Kerman implored below me. He guided my foot on to his shoulder. “Now, give me your weight and push up.”

“I’ll push you down, you fool!” I panted.

“Come on!” His voice shook. “I’ve got a good grip. Slowly and steadily. Don’t do anything suddenly.”

There was nothing else to do. Very cautiously I transferred the weight of my body on to his shoulder, then transferred my finger grip to another ridge where I had a better hold.

“I’m heaving,” I panted. “Right?”

“Yeah,” Kerman said, and I felt him brace himself.

I heaved with my arms and shoulders and slid up and on to the floor of the crevice. I lay there, panting until Kerman’s head appeared above the ledge, then I crawled forward and pulled him up beside me. We flopped down, side by side, not saying anything.

After a while I got unsteadily to my feet.

“We’re having quite a night,” I said, leaning against the crevice wall.

Kerman squinted up at me.

“Yeah,” he said. “Will I get a medal for that?”

“I’ll buy you a drink instead,” I said, drew in a deep breath, dug my shoulders into the wall and got my feet up against the opposite wall. By pressing hard with my shoulders and feet I managed to maintain a sitting position between the two walls.

“Is that the way you’re going to travel?” Kerman asked, horrified.

“Yeah—it’s an old Swiss custom.”

“Have I got to do that, too?”

“Unless you want to stay where you are for the rest of your days.” I said heartlessly.

“There’s no other way.”

I began to edge myself upwards. The sharp rocks dug into my shoulder-blades, and it was slow work, but I made progress. So long as the muscles in my legs didn’t turn sour on me I would get to the top. But if they did, it would be a quick drop and a rocky landing.

I kept moving. I’d rather go up this way than attempt the bulge. A third of the way up I had to stop and rest. My legs felt as if I had been running for a hundred miles, and the muscles in my thighs were fluttering.

“How are you doing, pal?” Kerman called, shining his flash up at me.

“Well, I’m still in one piece,” I said dubiously. “Wait until I get to the top before you try it.”

“Take your time. I’m in no hurry.”

I stared again. It was slow work, and my shoulders began to ache. I kept looking up at the star-studded sky. It seemed to be coming closer; maybe that was just wishful thinking, but it inspired me to keep on. I kept on, my breath hissing through clenched teeth, my legs stiffening, my shoulders bruised. Up and up; inch by inch, knowing there was no going back. I had to get up there or fall.

The crevice began to narrow, and I knew then I was passing the bulge. The going became harder. My knees were being slowly forced towards my chin. I was getting less leverage. Then suddenly I stopped. I could go no farther. Above me the crevice had narrowed down to about three feet. Bracing myself, I got out the flashlight and sent the beam along the wall and above me. A scrubby bush grew out of the rock within reach. To my right was a narrow shelf: the top of the bulge.

I put the flash back into my pocket, reached for the bush. I got a grip on it close to where it grew out of the cliff and pulled gently. It held. I transferred some of my weight to it. It still held. Then drawing in a deep breath I relaxed the pressure of my feet against the wall and swung into space. It was quite a moment. The bush bent, but it was well rooted. I swung to and fro, feeling sweat like ice-water running down my spine, then I swung myself towards the ledge and with my free hand groped for a hold. My fingers dipped into a crack: not enough to hold me, but just enough to steady me. I hung there, pressing my body against the wall of the crevice, my feet treading air, my right hand clutching the bush, my left hand dug into the narrow crack in the ledge. One false move now, and I would go down. I was scared all right. I’ve been in some panics in my life, but none like this one.

Very cautiously I began to lever down with my right hand and pull with my left. I moved up slowly. My head and shoulders came up above the ledge. I began to lean forward as my chest touched the edge of the ledge. I hung like that, nearly done, my heart pounding, blood singing in my ears. After a while I collected enough strength to climb another couple of inches. I dragged up one knee and rested it on the ledge. Then, with a frantic effort, I heaved forward and was on the ledge, flat on my back, aware of nothing but the pounding of my heart and the rasping of my breath.

“Vic!”

Kerman’s voice floated up the funnel of the crevice.

I made a croaking noise and crawled to the edge.

“Are you all right, Vic?”

His voice sounded miles away: a faint whisper out of the darkness. Looking down I saw a pin-point of light waving to and fro. I had no idea I had climbed so far, and seeing that light made me dizzy.

“Yeah,” I shouted back. “Give me a minute.”

After a while I got my breath and nerve back.

“You can’t do it, Jack,” I shouted down to him. “You’ll have to wait until I can get a rope. It’s too tricky. Don’t try it.”

“Where will you get the rope from?”

“I don’t know. I’ll find something. You wait there.”

I turned around and sent the beam of the flashlight into the darkness. I was only about thirty feet below the cliff head. The rest of the way was easy.

“I’m going now,” I shouted down to him. “Hang on until I get a rope.”

I practically walked up the next thirty feet, and came up right beside the ornate swimming-pool. Above me was the house. A solitary light burned in one of the windows.