Pull-ups.
It was just like doing pull-ups
One beam after the next.
In the light of the headlamp I could see Mason maybe five or six meters above me.
You can catch him. You can do this.
But he obviously knew what he was doing and had a rhythm going—one hand, then the other, gripping the ascending device that locked off the rope to hold him in place, sliding up the loop of rope for his foot. Then he would stand, slide up the ascender, and start over again.
I climbed faster, trying to gain on him until I came to an impasse: The beam above me was missing. Either it’d fallen long ago or had never been placed there when this shaft was built.
The next one was out of reach. I would need to jump, but if I missed it I was going to fall, and there wasn’t anything besides the beam I was standing on to stop me.
I told myself I wouldn’t miss.
Taking a deep breath, I crouched, gauged the distance, and leapt.
But I didn’t make it high enough.
I barely snagged the edge of the beam, but it was damp and slippery and my hands slid off. I plunged backward, smacking into the beam I’d leapt off from, hitting it hard on my right side. The impact flipped me around upside down.
Throwing my arms out, I managed to grab hold of it just before I would have rolled off for good, but the momentum carried my legs around and my ankle banged into the side of the shaft, jarring me so much that I nearly lost my grip.
My side raged with pain but I did my best to ignore it.
Using a narrow ledge in the rock wall for a foothold, I scrambled onto the beam and quickly assessed myself. My side was wrenched pretty badly. Where the stitches had been, the cuts were bleeding heavily, but when I passed my hand over my rib cage it didn’t feel like I’d broken any ribs.
My ankle was bruised, but I could deal with it. My right hand was on fire from the rope burns, but that was manageable.
I directed my light up the shaft.
Mason had paused and was staring down at me. “Are you alright, Pat?”
I said nothing, just dried off my hands on my jeans and got ready to go after him.
“Good. I’m glad,” he said. “I don’t want you to miss the climax tomorrow night.” Then he turned and began to ascend again.
Don’t slip this time, Pat.
Higher. You need to jump higher and hold on to that beam.
With every second, he was lengthening the distance between us.
I readied myself and then leapt as high as I could.
This time, despite the friction burns on my hand, I managed to hold on. Gripping the beam, I kicked off the wall and pulled myself up. Even more focused now, adrenaline erasing the pain in my side, my hands, my ankle, I climbed one beam after another. But I could see that I was falling farther behind him.
He was going to make it to the surface.