Effie’s limbs shook as she ascended the wall at Rock Nirvana. All these people—watching me—and Zander below—watching me. Her nerves were wound tight. She had to shake it off and focus on the climb.
Trisha scrambled up the first ascent. Her moves were sure and graceful.
Effie climbed slower, calculating each move, keeping her tummy close to the wall. She glanced over at Trisha.
Trisha had a significant lead on her. She climbed up the wall like a lizard.
Effie sighed and focused on her own route. At least I’m trying. She seized a hold, maneuvered her foot onto another hold, and lifted herself up. Slow and steady. She got into a rhythm of step, swing, step, swing, pressing her hips close as the wall angled outward.
Trisha had already reached the overhang.
Effie had a few more yards to go.
Someone shouted, “Well, I guess I lost that bet.”
Dante shouted, “It ain’t over yet.”
“You’re doing great, Effie,” Zander called.
Buoyed by the encouragement, Effie clipped herself to one of the pins and kept going.
Trisha seemed to be stuck at the overhang. She worked herself up over the edge, lost her grip, and fell.
The crowd collectively gasped.
Bryant secured her rope, and she dangled like a spider.
“Want me to lower you a little?” Bryant called.
“No!” Trisha called back. She jack-knifed her legs until her toes touched the wall. Then, she pushed away, and swung into the wall, snagging a hold.
“Thatta girl, Banks,” someone from the crowd yelled.
Effie kept climbing. She reached the overhang as Trisha still struggled to her right. Taking a moment to collect herself, she mentally mapped her route, repeating all the instructions Zander had given. Hook my heel over the edge. Remember my feet. Kneebar brace once I’m over the ledge. She huffed out a sigh and reached for a grip. Her fingertips explored the unseen edge to find a good hold. Her fingers locked around one that seemed to have been waiting for her to find it. This must be the less obvious one. Zander’s right, it does sing. Poised beneath the artificial outcropping, she swung her leg over the edge, hooking it in a sturdy hold.
“That’s it, Effie. Great move,” Zander called.
It took every ounce of her strength to heave herself over the edge. She caught the whoops of Zander, Dante, and others in the audience far below. She afforded a slight glance in Trisha’s direction.
Trisha hung from two sturdy grips, her feet dangling over the ledge.
She forgot about her feet. Effie shoved her knee and thigh against a large boulders grip. Okay, I’ve got the kneebar. Exhausted, she shook out her trembling arms, braced against the wall with her knee. But she had made it over the ledge. A surge of exhilaration flowed through her.
Below, people cheered and shouted.
Effie dipped her hands one at a time in her chalk bag.
Another cheer sounded.
Effie sneaked a peek at Trisha.
She had made it up over the ledge and clung to a couple of handholds, her legs stretched wide on footholds. She reached for a handhold and slipped, catching herself before falling.
“Fuck,” she cried, then glanced at Effie. “Stop looking at me,” she snarled.
Effie shook her head and continued her ascent, clipping her rope to the carabiners and pins affixed to the wall as she climbed. Her arms shook with fatigue. Her calves ached. She was certain her heels were blistering.
Below her, Zander called out, “You’re doing great, Effie.”
Dante shouted, “I’m writing a song, just for you, Effie.”
Another glance at Trisha showed her fit to boil over.
Effie focused on the wall. Center of gravity tucked close. Backstep here. There’s a good place for my foot. Hips swing tight against the wall, here. She’d gained about a yard on Trisha, but she couldn’t let up. One slip and she could fail. Only four more yards and I’m at the top. Her muscles all screamed in protest, but she powered ahead.
Trisha seemed frantic as she climbed. She reached for holds too far apart. Her movements were sloppy.
Effie stayed steady. In two more holds, she would reach for the top.
“Come on, Effie!” people from the crowd shouted.
“I’m about to gift a shitload of money to Zander,” a guy called. “Didn’t expect that.”
Effie took the next hold, then the final. She strained to reach the top of the wall, slapping it with her palm.
“Time,” she shouted, panting.
Applause and shouts filled the gym, drowning out Trisha’s curses.
“That’s my girl!” Zander yelled.
Effie steadied herself in her footholds and shook out her arms. Her legs began to tremble with fatigue, the muscles firing like a sewing machine. I’m so ready to belay down.
She yelled, “On belay?”
If Zander responded, she didn’t hear him over the din below.
“On belay?” she called again. Still nothing but shrieks and shouts. She filled her lungs with air and bellowed, “On belay?”
“Belay on,” Zander shouted. “Everyone, shut up. These climbers are fatigued and need to come down.”
The crowd hushed to a soft murmur.
Effie pushed away from the wall.
Zander fed her some rope.
She landed several yards down the wall. She pushed away again. Belaying felt like free-falling exhilaration. Her legs easily caught her. She pushed away again, dropping farther down the wall.
Once she reached the edge of the overhang, she paused for a moment, savoring the win. I did it. I won. I can hardly believe it.
“Effie, look out!” Zander yelled.
She glanced to her right.
Trisha swung like a monkey in her direction. Apparently, she’d shoved away from the wall with a lot of force.
“Trisha, what the fuck?” Bryant shouted.
Effie cringed, bracing for impact.
Trisha crashed into her, shoving her into the textured concrete. Her foot caught on one of the holds, and she twisted backward, smacking her head against the wall.
Instinctively, Effie grabbed her with her left arm, steadying her.
Trisha hung limply in Effie’s grasp. Shit. She’s out cold.
“Call 911,” she yelled. “She’s unconscious. Bryant, I’ll steady her while you give slack.”
Effie’s mind whirled. I can’t let her go. She would only swing like a pendulum to the right, inflicting more damage when her sack of a body landed.
Pandemonium broke out below.
“Shut the fuck up,” Bryant bellowed.
“Logan. Get up there and help her,” Zander called.
“Already on it,” Logan called.
Effie glanced over her shoulder, looking down.
Logan had begun his ascent to the left of her, traversing a vertical wall with no angle to it.
She calculated her next move. Somehow, she had to make it over the ledge.
“I’m going to try a little belay jump,” she yelled to Zander. “I can’t let go of her.”
Trisha felt hot and moist pressed against Effie’s body. She stank of pricy perfume and body odor.
Logan poised against the wall, several yards below. “Hold on. Let me climb a little higher. I’m not on a line, so don’t want to climb too high.”
She waited, clutching Trisha’s sweaty body.
Blood began to seep through Trisha’s hair. She let out a low groan but didn’t wake up.
“Okay, Effie, push away,” Logan called.
“You have us, right, Zander?”
“Steady and sure,” he called. “Bryant’s ready, too.”
“Okay.” She eyed Logan.
He clung to the wall a couple of yards below. He waved his free hand. “I’ve got an arm and a secure grip on the wall. See if you can belay this far.”
Effie took a deep breath. She gripped Trisha tightly, bent her knees, then pushed away from the wall. Her rope gave and then pulled taut. Her body jerked. She tightened her hold on Trisha.
Zander grunted with effort.
She started to twirl to the left, with the weight of Trisha. In a panic, she extended her legs and touched the wall. The counter-pull of Trisha’s rope sent her spinning to the right. Her right shoulder slammed into the wall, while her body cushioned Trisha. She let out an oof.
The crowd gasped.
“You okay, Effie?” Zander called.
“Yeah,” she said, getting her legs beneath her. A sharp sting of pain throbbed in her shoulder.
Logan called, “Stay put. I’ll be right up to help.” He scurried toward her, traversing to the right. Once there, he steadied Trisha on his side. “Okay, we’re going to have to down-climb. No more belay hops. But we’ve only got a few yards to go. Zander and Bryant have you. If you slip, they’ll catch you. Ready?”
“Ready.” She disliked down-climbing. But down-climbing while clutching one-hundred-ten pounds worth of dead weight proved extremely difficult. When she got within two yards of the ground, she slipped.
Zander leaned back, catching the rope when she hung a yard or so from the floor.
Dante reached up to grab her. “I’ve got you.”
Kennedy seized her from the other side. “We’re here.”
Effie and Trisha lowered to the ground.
From there, Dante and Logan worked together to gently lower Trisha to the ground.
She stirred and moaned, blinking.
“What the…?” she mumbled. Her eyes opened briefly, then they fluttered shut.
Bryant unhooked her harness from the rope. “It’s okay, baby. You fell. You’re going to be okay.”
Right, fell. Effie shook her head while unfastening her harness.
“So proud of you,” Zander whispered to Effie while removing the rope from his harness.
“Fire department,” a man shouted from the front of the gym.
Two blue-uniformed paramedics, a guy and a woman, both wearing purple gloves, wheeled a gurney into the room.
“Give us some room,” the guy bellowed. As the onlookers parted, he pulled the gurney while the woman ushered it in from the back.
The paramedics removed a yellow backboard from the gurney and lowered it to the ground, crouching low.
The woman, whose shirt read, “Gonzales, FF EMT,” held Trisha’s head in place. “Can someone tell us what happened?”
“She hit her head against the wall,” Bryant said.
While trying to kill me. Effie unbuckled the straps around her legs and waist, then slid the harness to the ground.
The male paramedic, whose shirt read, “Jefferson, FF PM,” removed a blood pressure cuff from his kit, as well as a pulse oximeter. He placed the pulse-ox on her forefinger and slid the cuff over her forearm. Then, he positioned the tips of the stethoscope in his ears and inflated the cuff. After listening for a minute, he said, “Her BP is one-ninety over seventy. Pulse is forty. Skin is pale, warm, and moist. O2 is ninety-five.” He scribbled notes on his latex glove. Then, he moved to Trisha’s head and raised the hair from the blood spot. “Looks like the bleeding has stopped.” He lifted each of her eyelids and flashed a penlight in her eyes. “Is her husband here?” he said, raising his head to look around.
“I’m her boyfriend,” Bryant said, pushing through the crowd. “How does she look?”
“Her pupils aren’t responding the same. Systolic blood pressure is elevated, diastolic is low. She could have a concussion. We’re going to take her to Swedish General. You can ride with us or take your own vehicle.”
“I’ll drive,” Bryant said.
Effie stopped watching, focusing on getting her gear off. After she stepped free of her harness, Zander wrapped his arms around her.
“So proud of you. You did it, girl.”
“I did,” she said, squeezing him back. “But, I guess Trisha got the attention she craved. Too bad she had to hurt herself to get it. I hope she’s okay.”
She melted into Zander for a long moment. When Zander released her, she turned to see Trisha being wheeled from the room on the gurney.
Trisha opened her eyes. Her head had a “head-bed” strapping it to the backboard. A cervical collar had been placed around her neck.
She startled. “What happened? Where am I?”
Bryant leaned close to Trisha and whispered something to her.
She shrieked. “That bitch helped me down the wall?” She groaned, and said, “God, I hurt. Did I win?”
“Take it easy,” the male paramedic said. “We’ll need you to stay calm.” He pushed her through to the lobby, and they disappeared, swallowed into the outside world, away from Effie.
While Effie strolled toward the women’s room, with Zander by her side, people called out compliments on her climbing expertise and told her things like, “I knew you could do it.” She smiled, grimly, and nodded, eager to get away from all this attention.
A sense of claustrophobia pressed in on her as she forced her way to the ladies’ room.
Zander put his arm out, preventing people from getting too close. “Give her some room. She needs some space.”
She finally made it into the women’s room, and away from so many people. “Come in with me.”
Without hesitation, Zander followed her in.
“Whew. I need recovery time from so much attention. I don’t really like it. I hope this is the end of it.” She headed for the sink to wash her face and hands.
Zander’s phone buzzed, and he fished it out of his bag. He winced.
“What?” Her stomach seized in alarm.
“I’m afraid the attention will continue,” he said. “You’ve become this week’s trending story.”