Thirty grueling minutes had passed since Karon and Clint loaded Lionel onto a sled and began dragging him up to High Camp.
She was out of energy and out of memory verses. Whatever possessed her to climb this stupid mountain in the first place? Had she totally lost her mind?
Images of a roaring fire and hot chocolate with marsh-mallows floated through her mind. She felt like one of the little puppies trudging through the snow in 101 Dalmatians. Her nose was frozen. Her toes were frozen. And yes, even her tail was frozen.
Next time she watched that movie with one of the neighbor kids, she’d have a new appreciation for the little puppy’s feelings.
She heard little B’s voice in her head. “You can’t quit, Miss Karon. You gotta keep going.”
She’d never forget those words. He’d whispered them to her in the hospital. Then the children’s choir she’d directed for umpteen years came and sang a song from an old Christmas musical.
“Take a step of faith. Take a step of faith. When you can’t see your hand in front of your face, take a step of faith….”
A smile split her chapped lips with the memories. And even with ice and snow covering her from head to toe, she knew she had to keep going. A resurgence of energy came from a well deep within. God was with her. He knew what was going on. He knew exactly where her little speck was on the side of this great big mountain.
And He was in control. No matter what.
A hard jerk on the rope brought her attention back to the task at hand.
Another long, hard jerk. And then she was sliding—no, being dragged—up the mountain. What on earth?
She grabbed her ice axe and tried to slow her ascent. Karon sat down hard, dug her boots in, and slammed the axe into the ground. A momentary halt and then another long jerk on the rope. What had happened to Clint? How could he be dragging her up the slope? Or had he found the camp and the other climbers were pulling? But that made no sense—she was out of control and the sleds were tumbling.
Her oxygen-deprived mind searched for answers as she slowed to a stop. “Clint!” The wind overpowered her voice. “Clint! Where are you?”
Nothing. Just the wind.
Karon surveyed her situation. The two sleds were overturned. Which meant poor Lionel was face-first in the snow. She anchored her rope with the axe and raced down the slope toward him. After righting his sled, she found him to be unconscious still. No blood or cuts that she could see. And he was still breathing. Hopefully all the layers protected him from any injuries. The supply sled was a little worse for the wear, but nothing major was damaged.
One horrible question remained.
What had happened to her brother?
Zack checked his gear one final time as John approached. “I’m ready to go, sir.”
His boss nodded. “Keep your head, Zack.”
“Yes, sir.”
The blades of the helo were already whirring as Zack ran to it and jumped in. The weather wasn’t terrific, but at least it had calmed down some. Three other rangers were prepared to drop since a couple other expeditions had been caught in the blizzard. The goal was to get everyone who needed medical attention out, and get everyone else safely back on course.
Easier said than done, but Zack’s attention was focused. He wouldn’t be letting go of the rope again.
As they flew the forty-five-minute flight to Denali, Zack prayed for all the climbers. And he sent up an extra prayer for a tiny brunette.
The wind calmed, and a break in the snow gave Karon a better sense of her bearings. She decided to take advantage of the weather and look for Clint. She checked on Lionel one more time and tugged on the rope to ensure her anchor held. Taking tentative steps away from her supplies, she called out for her brother, each time taking a moment to listen for any reply. She followed the rope she hoped was still attached to him for several steps and almost followed it into a hole.
Every climber’s nightmare. To fall into a crevasse covered by a snow bridge.
Karon lay on her stomach and crawled to the edge, hoping not to follow in her brother’s footsteps. As she peeked over, she spotted him lying in a heap at the bottom. She was a terrible judge of distance, but it seemed a long way away. No wonder she’d felt dragged up the mountain. As his weight fell into the crevasse, the rope had pulled her along. His leg looked crumpled underneath him. She swallowed the bile threatening to rise in her throat. “Clint!” Her voice was hoarse and strained. “Clint! Wake up!”
He moaned.
“Clint!”
Nothing.
Karon tugged on the rope. It was still attached to his harness. She glanced up at the sky. It didn’t look as ominous as before. How long before they were hit with another storm?
Lord, I need help. And strength would be nice. Superhero strength.
Another moan came from below. “My leg. It’s broken, Karon.”
“Other than that, are you okay?”
“I think so, but the pain’s pretty bad. I’ll probably black out again. So don’t do anything stu—”
She looked down. He was passed out again. And without his leg, how would he ever be able to climb out? The crevasse was a sheer drop of ice.
A glance around gave her an idea. If she could just get enough leverage, maybe she could get Clint out of the crevasse herself. But then what? She was still alone, with two unconscious men.
Men! They were all worried about her climbing Denali, and look at who was unconscious. She laughed out loud at the thought. Bunch of wimps.
At least her sense of humor was intact. God was with her. Her adrenaline surged. She could do this. Karon Granger. Cancer survivor. Denali climber. And add guide and brother rescuer to the list.
Bracing her legs against a large rock ledge, Karon pulled with everything in her. “Clint!” she yelled into the crevasse. “You lazy bum. Wake. Up.”
She pushed with her feet, and pulled on the rope. Inch by inch. “Clint, so help me, you are going on a diet when this is over.” Each word oozed through gritted teeth. Didn’t some statistic say that grunting or yelling improved your strength by 30 percent? Well, she would yell at her brother the whole way if she had to.
“No more cookies.” She yanked.
“And no more homemade pies.” This time a grunt.
“Until you lose five hundred pounds …” she huffed, “and apologize three million times …”
“Ahhhhh!” she screamed in the frigid air. Every muscle burned, but if she let go now, her brother would crash back to the bottom of the crevasse.
“You owe me!” Another huge pull and she saw what she hoped to be part of Clint’s parka. She had no idea how to get him up over the edge. Her lungs burned. Not enough oxygen for her muscles. Or her brain. Spots danced in front of her eyes.
Lord, I need some help here. Please …
Karon closed her eyes and breathed deep. She tugged again. But lifting him over the edge would be a feat. She took stock of her situation. If she could wedge her feet in that crack in the ledge, maybe she could put all her body weight into pulling Clint up and out.
She jammed her size five boots into the crack and tested her leverage. She could lean back, which would be down-slope, and use her body as a counterweight. A giggle erupted at the thought. Her brother better appreciate the fact that she was strong, because her little frame probably weighed half of his. She’d just have to use every ounce she had left. Clint’s life was at stake.
Karon prayed again. Not even understanding all her requests, but God knew. She bent her knees a few times and tested her foot positioning. Her little boots wedged perfectly in the crack. She wouldn’t slip.
Leaning back, Karon tugged and yanked and pulled with everything in her. Her legs pushed against the ledge. Hand over hand, she inched the rope upward.