Jack Kilborn - Endurance

“I love you, Kelly. I love you so, so much.”

Kelly buried her face in Letti’s neck. “I love you too, Mom. Where’s Grandma?”

Letti gripped her daughter tighter. “Grandma didn’t make it, honey.”

Kelly pulled away. She looked older. Much older. And Letti saw a glimpse of what her mother told her. Of the amazing woman Kelly would grow up to become.

“She saved me, Mom,” Kelly said. “Grandma saved my life.”

Letti blinked back the tears. Tears of pain. Tears of loss. But mostly, tears of pride. Pride in her daughter, and pride in her mother.

“She saved us all, baby. Your Grandma saved us all.”

# # #

Hanging from the banister, Maria heard the shotgun blast. And she knew whom Eleanor had shot.

Felix. My Felix.

He came for me.

And she killed him.

The anger in Maria took over, like a monster invaded her body. It worked into every pore, every cell, filling her with such all-encompassing rage that Maria felt like she could put her fist through a brick wall.

Maria hooked a leg up on the bottom of the railing, pulling herself onto the third floor. Eleanor swung the gun around, but Maria was already running at her, the chain wrapped tight around her fist.

She punched Eleanor in the nose again, doing even more damage this time. Eleanor moaned, and Maria tore the double barrel shotgun from the old woman’s hands. She aimed at the bitch’s diseased head and pulled both triggers.

Nothing happened. The gun was empty.

Changing her grip, Maria brought the gun back like a baseball bat, swinging with everything she had, cracking Eleanor across the head so hard it could be heard in neighboring states. Eleanor collapsed, but Maria’s attention was already on Felix, the blood spreading across his chest.

Maria tore at the buckles on her wrist cuffs, using her teeth, pulled her hands free. She patted down Eleanor’s body and found a packet of QuikClot. Hurrying to Felix, she lifted up his blood-soaked shirt, dumping the powder on him, pressing it into the jagged buckshot wounds on his chest and shoulder.

“Please,” she said. “I’ve waited so long for you. Please don’t leave me, Felix.”

She put her fingers on his neck, trying to find a pulse, but her hands were shaking too badly.

“You can’t die, honey. You can’t. Not now. Not after all of this.”

She put her ear to his chest, couldn’t hear a damn thing. Not knowing what else to do, she wrapped her arms around him, pressing his cheek to hers, rocking him back and forth.

“I love you, Felix. I love you so much.”

This isn’t how it’s supposed to end. After all of this, it’s supposed to end happily.

A whole year I dreamed, prayed, for this moment.

This can’t be the end.

And then Felix mumbled something.

“Felix? Oh my god, Felix? What did you say?

“I love you too, babe,” he said. “God, you’re so beautiful.”

“I missed you so much.”

“I missed you too. You think you can get me an aspirin?”

Maria began to laugh so hard she wept.

# # #

Deb splayed out her arms, trying to palm the sheer face of the rock, but she kept sliding. The metal spikes of her prosthetics skipped across the surface of the shelf, not any better at traction than the climbing shoes she wore years ago when she was in this very same situation.

Above her, the cougar watched her slow descent with narrow, evil eyes, swishing his broken tail back and forth.

It’s happening again. I’m reliving my worst nightmare.

And Deb knew, from past experience, that she only had six seconds left. Then she’d be over the edge, and even Mal with all of his good intentions wouldn’t be able to catch her when she fell.

Strangely, mixed in with the terror was a bit of melancholy.

Is this what I was meant to do in life? Make the same mistakes?

“Use your leg!” Mal yelled up at her.

I can’t use my leg, you moron. They keep slipping. What I need is longer arms to grab onto that outcropping just out of my reach.

Oh, son of a bitch!

Suddenly understanding Mal’s advice, Deb reached down and hit the button on her right stump cup. The air hissed out, breaking the suction, and she tugged off her leg.

Only a few seconds left! I only have one shot!

She stretched, using her leg like a climbing pick, holding onto the cup and swinging the foot upward at the outcropping.

It caught!

Deb stopped sliding. She hung there, gripping her prosthetic, the metal barbs in the toe hooked around the protruding rock.

Okay. Now I just need to get to it.

There were no other handholds or footholds, so Deb had to slowly chin herself up. Her prosthetic wasn’t secure enough to hang from, but it was enough to hold her on this incline. She raised herself gradually, bit by bit, until she was able to get her fingers on the outcropping.

From there, it was only a few inches to the seam. Once she had a solid grip, she put her leg back on, pressing the button for suction.

This route was trickier than the other one. Steeper. Fewer decent holds. But this route didn’t have a cougar waiting for her, so Deb followed the seam, keeping away from the shelf where the creature perched.

After five minutes, she found her rhythm. Hand hold. Toe hold. Hand hold. Toe hold.

After ten minutes, the lookout station was in sight. Deb kept her emotions in check, but she was secretly astonished that she was actually going to make it.

“Deb!” Mal yelled.

Deb looked down. The cougar was a few feet below her, legs splayed out, clinging to the rock face. It thrust its entire body upward, its massive claws batting her artificial leg.

Of course it can climb. That’s why they’re called mountain lions.

Deb stuck her hand deep in a crevice, gripping the stone inside, waiting for the next lunge.

The lion jumped again, coming up another two feet, its fierce jaws locking around Deb’s stump cup.

Deb quickly reached down, hitting the release. Her leg came off.

The cougar, losing its balance, fell from the rock face. It landed a few feet below, on the angled, sheer face where Deb had slid off all those years ago.

Like Deb, the cougar couldn’t get a grip on the sheer rock. It spread out all four legs, claws scraping against stone, but couldn’t stop its inevitable slide.

“How do you like it?” Deb shouted at the lion.

It roared once—an angry, futile roar—and then the monster that had haunted Deb’s dreams for so long slipped right off the edge of the mountain, falling thirty long feet, smashing to the unforgiving ground below in a brilliant explosion of blood.

And it felt pretty goddamn good.

“You okay!” Mal called to her.

“Yeah! Are you!”

“I am! But it’s raining cats and dogs down here!”

Deb smiled.

Next time I have a chance, I’m going to kiss that guy.

The rest of the climb, even with only one leg, was uneventful. Maria made it to the shelf, and crawled to the lookout post. It was unoccupied, but the rangers were kind enough to leave a door open for her, and a fully charged radio.

“Hello, hello? This is Deb Novachek. I’m with Mal Deiter. We called earlier, and there’s a helicopter looking for us. Can anyone hear me?”

“ This is ranger base three. We read you, Deb. Over.”

Deb practically wept.

“I’m at a lookout station. The number on the radio is six-four-eight-seven-two.”

“ Roger that. We’ll send the chopper your way.”

Deb found a stash of water bottles next to the radio. She twisted the top off one, drank the whole thing in a few gulps, and let out the biggest sigh of her life.