Alex Morel - Survive

“Your feet, Jane, get a foothold!”

But my feet are a foot from the wall, swinging wildly in the air. My left hand reaches up and finds a tiny landing on the top of the ledge. I pull as hard as I can, and suddenly, together, Paul and I begin to win the battle. I feel my body moving inch by inch. Paul is screaming like a wild beast, giving everything he has. And then my chest hits the edge and I throw my right leg up and over, landing and rolling onto the ledge.

I let out a scream and pound the ground. I feel like my heart might explode out of my chest, it’s throbbing so hard. Paul moves over and rolls me over and wraps his arm around me as tightly as he can. When my ears stop ringing, I realize he is whispering to me.

“It’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay.”

I sob, thinking how close I came to dying, and to pulling Paul over that cliff with me. We lie there for a few moments, just holding each other and catching our breath.

“I dropped the knife,” I finally say.

“I know. You couldn’t have done anything else.”

He looks at the overhang above us and he smiles. “That’s okay. We finally caught a break.”

Standing on this tiny ledge, staring up at the inverted overhang that I can’t imagine a champion climber ascending, never mind the physically challenged like myself, I am flooded with joy. It comes as I discover for myself that the inverted overhang is split into two distinct pieces of rock.

“You’re thinking we can climb through the crack rather than around and over.”

“You’ll stand on my shoulders and then I’ll push your feet up until you can find a grip and pull yourself up,” Paul instructs as he scans the crevice. His attention snaps back at me when I don’t respond. “Okay?” I nod.

“What happens after?” I ask.

“You’ll pull me up or something,” he says. “We’ll figure it out.”

“‘Or something’ sounds like a great plan,” I say.

“It’s worked so far.”

I don’t know how he lives like this. Planless. Instinctive. It drives me nuts, but I bite my tongue.

Paul kneels and I step on his shoulders and hold his hands. He stands up and holds my ankles firmly. I reach up, and my hands feel the bottom of the crack until I’m able to slide my left hand into a hold. I pull, but don’t have the strength to lift myself through to a foothold in the crack.

“It’s too high,” I say.

“Hold on,” Paul grunts, and his hands come under my boots and he pushes up with all his might. I reach and stretch until my left hand lands on the floor of the cliff and my right boot finds a foothold. I push hard and Paul gives me one last shove. I hoist my body over the top and land, hard, on the floor, scurrying to pull my legs over.

“I’m over, I’m over,” I holler.

“Stay there.”

In a matter of minutes, Paul climbs the wall and then shimmies across the crack like he’s climbing hand over hand on a pull bar. When he reaches the wide part of the crack, he pulls himself up and over the top.

He stands and looks out over the valley. He has a big smile on his face.

“Not bad, Solis.”

He sits down next to me. He puts his hand around my shoulders and pulls me in. My head falls onto his shoulder.

“Yeah, not bad, Hart.”

He looks around and then behind us.

“Not exactly what I’d hoped for.”

I look around again. My heart sinks. I’m not sure this is the right term for what I’m seeing, but I’m calling it a false top.

We are surrounded by mountain peaks far higher than the one we are standing on. Unless the sky was to turn crystal blue, it’s unlikely that a search plane could find us here.

“We can’t be found here, can we?” I ask.

“Do you mean alive?”

“Of course.”

“Unlikely.”

He lies on his back and looks up.

“We have to find shelter, before the sun falls.”

I look around and then up toward the sun, or where it should be. I can’t believe that we’ve gone through all of this and haven’t changed our situation at all. Except, of course, that we no longer have the bathroom shelter. A cold wind hits my face and I turn into Paul’s chest to protect myself.

“Don’t freak out on me now,” Paul whispers in my ear.

“I’m not.” I sit back up. “It’s the wind; it surprised me.”

He sits up and puts both arms around me, pulls me in tight, and kisses the top of my head.

“The worst is below us now,” he says. “Look.”

I don’t look, because I know looking back is a haunting feeling all its own.

I made it up the cliff and I feel good about that, but I’m still terrified of what’s to come. If I add obsessing about my near-death climb into the mix, I’ll end up a morass of nerves.

“I’m scared,” I say with honesty.

“I nearly shit my pants back there. It’s okay to be scared.”

“That’s what they tell me.”

“Who’s they?” Paul asks.

“People.”

“Doctors, you mean?”

“Yes, doctors, parents, friends, and now strange boys I meet on mountaintops. But everyone tells me to walk around like there’s nothing to be afraid of. Then they drop dead or something.”

“I’m sorry about that quip, about daddy’s girl.”

“You didn’t know.”

“It’s funny how people just drop dead one day. My mom died when I was ten. I remember the scent of her hair. Strawberries. That’s what I remember most about her.”

“My dad shot himself in the head. I just think about blood when I think about him. He used Old Spice. Blood and Old Spice. That’s what I remember.”

We just stand there for a few moments taking in each other’s histories. We are so different and yet so alike, I think. We both lost a parent.

“Do you suppose they think we’re dead?” He breaks the silence.

“I don’t know, but I think my mother would be pleased I finally met a guy.”

Paul laughs out loud.

“Did you find a guy, Solis? That’s nice to know.”

Less than an hour later, in the middle of a crop of slab-like stones, we find a small cave. Inside, the ground is dry and the wind is blocked. It is short and tapered, so we have to have our heads at the entrance.

“As good as it gets,” Paul says after inspecting the cave.

I can feel the cold air circulating around the opening of the cave and I fear the exposure could be too much.

“Is it enough?” I ask.

“It has to be. It’s all we’ve got.”

We unroll our sleeping bags and lay them side by side. Our shelter is snug and the ceiling at the apex couldn’t be more than four feet.

“Take off your boots and socks and gloves,” Paul says. “Socks in your bag, boots underneath. Put on the dry pair; we’ll rotate each day if we can.”

I nod in agreement.

“We’ll get in my bag, then pull this one over our heads. It’ll be warmer this way. Unzip the jacket so our bodies will heat each other more efficiently.”

My embarrassment hardly registers. I do everything he’s asked and slide down into the bag. He’s opened his jacket and I can feel the warmth off his chest. He reaches down into the bag behind himself and pulls out the two plastic soda bottles he had underneath his jacket all day.

“Did they melt?”

“Mostly, yes.”

I take a long pull from the first bottle. And then a short follow-up. I hand it back, knowing he must be dying of thirst too.

“Sorry. I didn’t realize how thirsty I was.”

“It’s okay, but don’t drink too fast-when you’re this thirsty, you can heave it back up. That wouldn’t be good.”

He takes a long pull himself and hands it back to me. “Good system; I’ll refill in the morning.”