Nevada Barr - The Rope

“No rope? Well, that’s a drag,” Anna said. She was exerting too much energy keeping her head above water. Using mostly her right arm to scull.

“Did your shoulder go out again?” Jenny asked.

“No. It just hurts,” Anna replied.

For a moment, both of them looked up the sheer rock to the top of the sandstone block, gray now against the fading light.

“We are in a world of hurt, aren’t we?” Anna asked.

“Help,” they yelled in unison.

The slot sent back a muffled echo that struck Jenny’s ears as mocking. The canyon walls were smooth and vertical or, worse, leaned in, affording not even the smallest ledge on which they could perch in the warm night air, not a fingerhold they could cling to to keep their heads out of the water. Not that a handhold mattered. Stopping movement would only hasten hypothermia. Their fingers would slip off and they would drown.

“You said there was a rope at the far end of the slot. The one left behind so people can climb out after the canyon gets too wide for shimmying,” Anna suggested. “We’ll climb out that way.”

“I said there was a rope there last season,” Jenny amended.

“It’ll still be there.”

“We’d be out, but we’d be nowhere. No food, no water, no shoes, and me in my underpants.” Jenny’s teeth were beginning to chatter, and, despite Anna’s bravado, the hollow pitch of her voice let Jenny know with what horror she contemplated a return to a place that had very nearly claimed her life.

“We’ll be warm,” Anna said firmly.

Anna had never done the slot canyons of Utah and Arizona. This one was not the easiest by a long shot. Jenny had her doubts whether Anna could make it during the daylight with a healed shoulder. She knew at night, without protective gear, it would be suicide for them to attempt it.

“We really can’t get out the slot,” Jenny said gently. “If we stay here the rangers will find us.” Anna made a noise that sounded a lot like “Hah!”

“Come on, I can get us out of the water until the cavalry arrives with hot beverages and thermal blankets.” Jenny struck out for the far end of the rectangular pool to where the slot made a black line from the water up sixty feet to the rim. There, she waited for Anna to catch up. By the way Anna moved through the water it looked as if not only were pain and cold sapping her strength, but the long pants were dragging her down.

“Here’s what we have to do,” Jenny said when Anna was beside her. “I’m going to show you. Do what I do, okay?”

Anna nodded.

Jenny paddled into the knife cut. The canyon walls were a little over three feet apart. Turning, she faced Anna. “Okay,” she said. “You kind of wedge yourself between the two walls.” She pushed a hand out to each side, palm on the sandstone. “Put your hands like this and push as if you’re trying to shove the walls farther apart. Okay?”

Anna nodded and spread her arms out, palms on opposite sides of the narrow channel.

“Now do the same thing with your feet under the water. Put the ball of one foot on one wall, the ball of the other on the opposite wall. It’s awkward, but you can do it. Okay? My feet are pretty much doing the same thing as my hands. Now I’m going to lift myself out of the water by pushing up with my feet and inching up my hands. Here goes.”

It was harder than Jenny had thought it would be, and she had swimmer’s shoulders and legs made strong by years of holding herself upright as her boat pounded over rough water. In a couple of minutes she was free of the ribbon of lake, her body forming an upright X between the cliffs, toes and fingers splayed like a tree frog’s.

Immediately, the desert heat began taking the feel of death from her skin. Given enough time it would warm her blood from reptilian levels to that of a mammal. “See? Out and warm. Nothing to it. Now you try.”

“Have you ever done this before?” Anna asked.

“I’ve seen it done,” Jenny said, trying to make it sound as if Anna were in good hands.

“In a cartoon?” Anna asked.

“In a video,” Jenny admitted.

“My sister and I used to do it. We’d climb up the door frame between the kitchen and the living room.”

“Then you’re going to be an ace,” Jenny said.

“I was four,” Anna said. “My technique is bound to be rusty.”

The water had gone black with evening. Anna’s face and arms showed a fish-belly gray. Jenny doubted the latter was a trick of the light. Anna’s blood was probably withdrawing from her extremities to keep the all-important internal organs alive and functioning. “We don’t have to get way up,” Jenny said encouragingly, “just out of the water.”

A gentle plinking, the sound gravel makes when falling into water, caught Jenny’s ear. “Shh!” she hissed at Anna. Beneath her the smaller woman ceased to splash, seeming to understand implicitly when shushed not to say “What?” at the top of her voice. Jenny listened with such hope she could picture every pore in her skin opening, every ganglion gangling after the illusive spatter. When the silence grew so deep she could hear the rocks aging, she gave it up. “Thought I heard something,” she told Anna. “Aural hallucination.”

Anna put a hand on each of the walls. Slender long fingers, small palms, and delicate wrists: Anna was too fragile for this. Jenny wished she could reach down and pluck her bodily up, but there was no way she could help without falling back into the water.

“That’s my girl,” she said encouragingly. “Are your feet wedged out?”

“Yes,” Anna said.

“Okay, scooch up.” It was almost physically painful watching the woman she adored inching up the stone, left arm not extended as far as the right and left shoulder lower as she tried to protect the ball joint. This soon after the injury there was a danger of the shoulder dislocating again. Jenny would not think about that.

In the time it took Anna to clear the water, Jenny cursed herself for ever having brought Anna to the slot, ever having gotten into the water to show off, ever having lured Anna to follow with the enticement of genuine corpses.

“Atta girl!” she said when Anna made it.

Both of them spraddled out, face-to-face, dripping, in a crack, would have made Jenny laugh at another time. Now the only positive emotion in her breast was gratitude that Anna was clear of the heat-sapping water. The pants she wore were heavy with water, and her long braid dripped a steady stream back into the lake.

“You’d be warmer with your clothes off,” Jenny blurted out, her recent ulterior motives making her awkward.

“I’ll take off my pants if you’ll unbutton them for me,” Anna said.

Jenny did laugh then. “Point taken.”

“Behind me, the walls get too close together to make this work,” Jenny said. “The slot has to be narrow enough we can brace our backs against one side and our feet against the other. Any narrower than this and we’d lose our leverage. Watch me. Most of my weight is on my hands and right foot. Now, I bring my left over to where my right foot is. A twist and a prayer and bingo, I’ve made myself into a flesh-and-bone bridge between the walls. See, wedged in with the muscles of my thighs, feet pushing that side, my back pushing this side. Hands free.” Shaking blood and feeling back into her arms and hands, she said, “Think you can do that?”

Anna made no reply but began her contortions. She was forcing herself to use her left shoulder. Barely aware she was doing so, Jenny strained her arms toward Anna trying to help. Then Anna was within her reach. Braced tightly in the crack by the soles of her feet and the small of her back, Jenny was secure enough to catch hold of Anna’s right bicep. “Let me take the weight. You’re almost there. Back to the wall. I got you. Both feet on the other side.” It surprised Jenny how supple Anna was. What she lacked in strength she made up for in agility. With less of a struggle than it had caused Jenny, Anna unkinked the leg beneath her and moved her right foot to the opposite wall alongside her left.