WHATEVER GUIDEBOOK Christian is reading, it’s more fiction than fact.
They’re halfway up the spine when it starts to get weird. Like the spine kind of, you know, truncates at this fifteen-foot-high wall that they’re going to have to get on top of if they want to keep going, and that’s fine and all, it’s just fifteen feet up, BUT IT’S A THOUSAND FREAKING FEET DOWN IF THEY FALL.
(And if they fall the wrong way, even the rescue helicopters might not be able to retrieve their bodies.)
Terrifying.
Christian stops and kind of scratches his head and pulls out his guidebook. “Aha,” he says. “We’re just supposed to edge around to the north side of this wall. There’s an easy chimney to climb over there.”
The Pack looks at each other. They’re strung out on this narrow spine with nothing but a steep, slippery drop on either side, and this motherfucker is talking about edging out onto the steep, slippery bits to climb up a chimney?
Even Amber looks worried.
“Christian,” she says, “maybe we just call it, huh? Go back and try the normal way up.”
“No time,” Christian says. He’s already edging out onto the top of the steep slope, kicking down rocks that go tumbling and tumbling for what seems like years, toward that pretty blue lake below. “We burned too many hours getting up here,” he says. “If we want to summit this thing, we gotta go this way.”
“So maybe we don’t do it,” Amber replies. “Climb back down, take a rest day, head for home in the morning.”
Christian is unresponsive.
“Chris,” Amber says. “We don’t want to get anyone killed.”
“No one’s going to get killed.” By this time, Christian has disappeared around the side of the wall, and his voice is barely audible over the, oh yeah, the chilly, high-altitude wind that is starting to pick up.
“Look,” he says, “the chimney’s right here. It’s easy. We get over this and it’s smooth sailing, I promise.”
(Spoiler alert: it is not smooth sailing.)
First of all, just getting to the chimney is a nightmare. Dawn keeps slipping on the scree and sending it falling hundreds of feet down that, uh, approximately sixty-five-degree slope. And then the chimney is another form of hell.
It’s steep and narrow and it’s all loose rock that comes off in your hands as soon as you put your weight on it, or another person kicks it down at you as they make the climb, so you’re always either ducking or holding on to something that feels like it’s about half a second from crumbling and sending you falling to your inevitable death. And then there’s the wind, which is still rising, and the fact that if you look down between your legs you can see the rest of the Pack clustered beneath you, waiting for you to get a move on, and beyond them that god-awful slope and the little blue lake far below, and it’s enough to be freaking vertigo-inducing, panic-attack-causing, enough to make Dawn start to hyperventilate and freak out and freeze up on the mountain, which is exactly the kind of place you don’t want to do those things, but all Dawn can think about is how she’ll never see her nana again, and—
“Put your hand here.”
(Huh?)
Dawn snaps back into focus. She’s breathing hard and her whole body is shaking from being so scared. But when she looks up, there’s Warden leaning down from the top of the chimney above her, pointing at a rock just above her head.
It looks solid. Dawn tries it. The rock holds her weight.
“Good,” Warden says. “Now lift your right leg a little higher and there’s a ledge you can sort of stand on.”
Dawn does what he says, slowly, expecting at any second to pull the mountain down on top of her. Her foot finds the ledge. It holds.
“Right hand on that outcrop right there,” Warden says. “Left leg beside your right.”
Dawn hesitates.
“You got this,” Warden tells her. “You’re almost there. Just remember to breathe.”
Dawn remembers to breathe. She listens to Warden. They climb the chimney together. And when she reaches the top, he’s leaning down with his arm outstretched to pull her up the last couple of feet, and when Dawn gets to the top and out of that fucking chimney, she’s so messed up and so grateful to be alive that she squeals and actually laughs and then she actually kisses Warden, just, like, spontaneous, and it’s like an electric shock goes through her and she pulls back so suddenly she nearly falls back down the chimney—but Warden catches her.
“Whoa,” he says, laughing and holding her steady. “Easy there, killer. We’re not at the top yet.”
He doesn’t exactly look upset that she kissed him, though. Those green eyes are twinkling as he stares back at her, and he looks a little bit flushed himself, a little surprised and excited, and as they stand at the top of the chimney and wait for the others, Dawn wonders if Lucas saw her kiss Warden and if so, what he’s thinking, and then she decides to push the thought from her mind and just really not care.
There’s still a freaking mountain to climb after all.
The wind gets progressively stronger as they climb toward the summit. Eventually, the spine ends, and the Raven’s Claw widens and steepens to almost vertical, and it’s more chimneys and insane slopes and vertical views.
They take it slow, and Dawn and Warden work together, and Dawn doesn’t have any more freak-outs, and slowly, but surely, they climb that stupid mountain.
And then they get to the ledge.
It’s hard to be sure, from where the Pack is standing, but Dawn guesses they’re only about a hundred feet from the top of the mountain. On the other side of the ledge, she can see where the trail curls up around some loose rock and keeps climbing, steep but not terrible, totally doable. The ledge, though, is going to be a problem.
The ledge is like two feet wide. There’s a wall of rock on the right side, and lots of space on the left. Empty space.
Like, there’s a fifty-foot drop and then just more scree and snow sloping down steeply all the way down the north slope of the Raven’s Claw to that pretty blue lake in the middle of nowhere, the lake where even the helicopters will have to work hard to find you.
The wind is starting to howl now.
The ledge looks insane.
Christian’s staring from the guidebook to the trail and back again, and you can almost see the words OH SHIT written on his face.
“Sweet,” he says, trying to act like he hasn’t just royally fucked them all over. “We traverse this here and then we’re just about home free. Good work, guys.”
His bullshit is totally transparent.
“I’m not crossing that,” Kyla says, arms crossed. She’s leaning against a slightly less sheer cliff as she takes a drink of water.
“Me either,” Evan says. “This is freaking nuts.”
Brandon nods in agreement.
Dawn looks at Warden, whose face is inscrutable. She looks at Lucas, who appears to be terrified. Alex looks from Christian to Amber like he’s hoping common sense will prevail somehow; only Brielle doesn’t look fazed, but she doesn’t exactly look enthusiastic, either, from where she stands at the back of the Pack.
Amber nudges her way to the front. She surveys the ledge.
“Oh, man,” she says, “I don’t think we can do this, Chris.”
Christian laughs. It sounds forced. “Of course we can,” he says. “It’s like a thirty-foot traverse, max.”
“The drop is like fifty feet,” Lucas says. “Minimum.”
Christian ignores him. He’s looking at Amber, who is staring at the narrow outcrop of rock her partner is proposing to, you know, traverse, and looking sick to her stomach.
(And when the Ambers in your group start to look scared, you know you’re screwed.)
“Well, we can’t turn back,” Christian announces before Amber can say anything. “Those chimneys we climbed? Twice as dangerous going down as up. Best thing we can do is just tough this one out and then go down the easy way.”
“The easy way?” Brandon says. “You said this was the easy way.”
Christian huffs. “I meant the standard way.” He looks at the Pack, one at a time.
(Even Kyla.)
“We’ll take it slow, guys,” he says. “Nice and easy. Don’t look down, and it’s like walking on a sidewalk.” Then, before anyone can mount another counterargument, he turns and starts walking.
Lucas gasps.
“Goddamn stupid idiot,” Kyla mutters.
Amber reaches for Christian, but he’s too far gone already. He hugs the rock on his right side, leans into it and presses his palms against the face, searching for cracks and handholds. Slowly, carefully, he makes his way across.
And then he’s on the other side, arms raised, like ta-da, a big shit-eating grin on his face. “See?” he calls over. “Nothing to it.”
“My ass,” Kyla says. “I’m still not doing it.”
But you know how guys are. As soon as Christian proves he can make it across, Warden and Brandon and Evan—and even Lucas and Alex—get this look on their faces like their manhood’s in jeopardy if they don’t also, you know, send the traverse.
So they do.
Warden goes first, obviously, and he looks better doing it than Christian by a mile, objectively and subjectively.
He makes the other side and there’s no fanfare, no showing off. He just looks at Christian, hard, and then turns to look back across the ledge and shoots a cocky grin at Brandon and Evan.
“Come on over, ladies,” he says—
(which is, ugh, not attractive, but w/e)
“Don’t go soft on me now.”
Brandon and Evan look at each other. They’re practically shoving each other out of the way for the chance to go next, even though they’re both obviously scared shitless and probably going to die.
Brandon wins, or loses, or whatever. He goes next. He goes slow. He hugs the wall tight, and his legs are shaking, and at one point he slips and kicks pebbles over the edge and Dawn hears them fall and thinks he’s going next, like she’s about to straight-up witness someone dying, but Brandon regains his balance and pauses to collect himself, and then he finishes the traverse like as fast as humanly possible.
Warden’s waiting on the other side and he gives Brandon a pat on the back and a bro hug, and that’s all Evan needs to go beetling across himself.
Alex takes a deep breath. Closes his eyes and psychs himself up. Then, calm and steady, he sends the traverse like a champ. Hits the other side and turns and looks back and smiles, kind of sheepish, at Dawn and the others.
Lucas looks at Kyla and Dawn and Brielle. “Uh, ladies first?”
The ladies all kind of look at each other.
On the other side, Warden and Brandon and Evan and Alex all yell encouragement.
(So does Christian, but nobody’s listening to him.)
Dawn doesn’t want to go next. She doesn’t want to go at all, but that’s probably not an option. But she’s not ready yet.
Eventually, Brielle straightens. “I’ll go,” she says.
But Kyla either doesn’t hear her or doesn’t give a shit. She’s shaking her head, muttering, positioning herself at the start of the ledge.
Inhale.
Exhale.
“O-kay,” she says, shaking her head. “O-kay, this is crazy. This is really freaking insane.” She looks ashen and shaky. Scared out of her mind.
But slowly—inch by inch—Kyla starts across.