“Well, I can’t do it.” Marina pointed to her arm.
I thought of all I had done since the boat had gone over. About being in the water, and pulling Marina onto the board, and then getting to the shore. I had made a fire on my own. I never thought I could do that. I did it when I wasn’t busy thinking I couldn’t. I just did it. Seemed to me, the thing about surviving something is believing you can.
I looked way up the tree. All the way to the big ball of branches that Marina said was a nest.
“What about the eagles? Aren’t they going to attack me?”
Marina shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ve never climbed into an eagle’s nest before.”
“Well, that doesn’t help.”
“Maybe you should wear this. For protection?” She pointed to my immersion suit.
Slowly I pulled the suit on. My legs already felt wobbly and I hadn’t even started climbing yet.
“There’s no sound, just a camera, so don’t bother talking,” she called after me. “I’m also not sure if it’s on all the time. I know they had to shut it down because of damage to the cables. Just jiggle it to make sure it’s working. And hurry, it’s going to get dark soon.”
“Great,” I muttered.
I stood beneath the lowest branch of the tree. It was like the highest parallel bars I’d ever seen. The lowest branch was way too far up to make it in a simple leap. I needed a springboard to mount.
I searched around and found a log with a broken end. I rolled it toward the tree and then propped it up on the trunk under the first branch. It wedged itself in as I shook it. Now all I had to do was run up the log and leap to that branch. The thought made me feel sick.
I stared up again, trying to judge the distance. Trying to ignore the pounding in my chest.
I rubbed my shaking hands on my suit, then clapped them together as if I were pounding off the chalk. I slowly backed up, moving branches out of the way. A simple move I’d done a million times. Except not nearly so high. Could I even reach that branch? What if I missed?
Don’t think. Just do.
I took off at a sprint, ran straight up the log, and used my speed to leap into the air, swinging my arms over my head to give my jump more momentum. I stretched out my fingers as far as they would go, reaching, reaching.
I caught the branch with the tips of my fingers and somehow clung on. It was rough under my hands, and my skin scraped as I hung. I swung my legs upward and aimed for the next branch. Don’t look down. That’s all. Just keep climbing.
Of course, as soon as I thought about not looking down, I looked. The ground swayed beneath me. So far below already. I imagined it rushing up toward me, remembered the hollow sound, the last thing I heard before everything went black.
Stop thinking! Focus on the task. If I could keep my thoughts on just the climb, there would be no room for panic.
I pulled myself higher. Reached, stretched to the next branch, and the next one. My muscles trembled but they knew the motions. It was as if my arms and legs had their own mind and just did it. Stretch, reach, lunge, grasp, pull.
The bark left the skin on my palms raw, but I ignored it. Must keep going up. Branches started getting thinner closer to the top. But the worst part was the swaying. The tree swayed with the breeze up here, and with my weight. Every time I moved, the tree swayed more. My heart hammered in my chest.
Thump thump thump.
I could feel my pulse in the scratches on my face and hands. Finally, I was underneath the mass of sticks that was the nest. But that’s when I realized what the hard part was going to be.
The nest was like a shallow bowl sitting in the center of a cluster of branches. It was as wide across as I was tall. I was going to have to reach far out to get around and over it.
Carefully, I pulled myself along the underside of the nest, grabbing the sticks and branches that stuck out. The muscles in my arms screamed as I hung sideways; my whole body shook. Slowly, I raised my head and peered inside. Please let the camera be working.
When my eyes came level with the nest, I was met by three angry heads. They shrieked and glared at me as I crawled onto the nest.
Blink. Blink.
“I’m just borrowing your camera,” I whispered to them. “Don’t call your mom and dad!”
I was expecting fuzzy chicks—small chicks. They were almost the same size as an adult eagle, but they didn’t have the white heads. And they acted like babies. They huddled together, taking up most of the space.
The nest was big enough to sleep on. In fact, it looked more comfortable than the shelter I had made. Except for the dried-up carcass of something long dead. That explained the smell.
The camera was there on a branch, but I had no idea if it was working. I wasn’t sure what I was expecting. Maybe for the screen to be like Stacey’s camera phone, where you could see yourself. This camera was just a green, square box with a hood over the lens. I waved my arms in front of it while balancing on the branch.
“Help!” I yelled at it, before I remembered there was no sound. I swung my arms around and tried to show how we swam from the boat, hugged a board, rode the waves onto this shore, and then how I made fire to dry us off and warm us.
All the while the chicks blinked at me, staring. I kept looking over my shoulder, terrorized by the thought of an adult eagle swooping down on me. Any second I expected to see the large wingspan.
Could they peck out my eyes? Most definitely they’d claw at me. Push me out of the nest. I’d fall down, down, down from the bar.
No. I wasn’t on the bar. I was in a tree. And darkness was coming. I had to get down while it was still light enough to see.
I moved and a twig snapped. All three eaglets startled and started to screech. I heard loud wind sounds like flapping, and looked up to see two huge eagles circling over me. They both screamed back.
I craned my head looking up, but leaned out too far. My arms windmilled, and then I toppled off the nest.