Page 49 of Fight

Whatever is keeping her up on this mountain can’t be good. With each minute that passes, the likelihood of her being injured goes up, and the odds of me finding her dwindles. I shout her name into the wind and scan the landscape for any sign of her. She only had a sweater on earlier. She could be dead from exposure alone if she didn’t have an outer layer.

Why wouldn’t she turn around when the weather got bad?The Scottie I know wouldn’t be so hellbent on a summit that she’d risk exposure, but there’re a lot of things about Scottie that I had wrong.

Toward the summit, scrambling is required in one of the sections with scree. It’s easy enough for hikers with experience, but the ground is less stable. Mountaintops are subject to extreme temperatures and erosion year-round. The fractured ground is loose and more dangerous than it is at lower elevations. Hikers, or even a strong gust, can trigger rockfall, depending on the conditions.

Why this woman? The only person I hate more than her right now is myself. I never should have slept with her, and now I’m risking my life for someone who lied. The ache in my knee has me wishing I’d wrapped it before attempting a second climb.

Clearing a copse of trees reveals the boulder field and switchbacks ahead. I cup my hands over my mouth and yell, “Scottie!”

I scan the open switchbacks and detect an out-of-place section. There’s a rock formation that looks odd from this angle?What the hell is that? It’s almost like an optical illusion of a small overhang, but it’s too high up to see.

Once I get through the boulder field, the switchbacks begin. Each spans approximately 200 to 300 feet, and I resist scaling straight up the side. My knees can’t take it. After the second switchback, I’m given a vantage point of the landscape I’ve already hiked through. I squint through my goggles, looking for any sign of movement off the paths. Nothing.

She and I are the only ones out here, but we might as well be on opposite ends of the earth. Glancing up, I furrow my brow and wrench off my goggles to see if it helps me gain perspective, but with the bright snow swirling around and sticking to everything, it provides no further insight. Probably my eyes playing tricks on me, but any sudden change in landscape is bad.

Another switchback down and I notice a large rock in the middle of the path that’s at least as high as my knees. I wouldn’t have missed that earlier. My heart pounds in my chest, urging me to pick up the pace. Another rock. Then another. And another. The higher I climb, the more peppered the area is with debris of varying sizes.

I purge the image of her lifeless form from my thoughts as quickly as it appears. I can’t handle another dead body. Injuries… She’s injured. We won’t be able to get back down in time if she’s wounded. My hand finds my pocket, and I run my fingers through my key ring.That might be my only option.

As I round the bend, I crane my neck to look ahead and almost freeze in my tracks when I see one of the biggest boulder blockages I’ve ever witnessed. The dread of seeing that boulder is nothing compared to the fear that strikes me when my gaze lands on a backpack.Scottie’s backpack.

As I get closer, my stomach lurches. The thought of her being crushed under that giant pile has me bending over and nearly throwing up. Why would her backpack be off? I look out from the ledge and cup my hands.

I shout her name as loud as I can, trudging over to her bag. Fuck.Fuck, fuck, fuck.

I’m panting when I hear a faint noise. It’s so hard to hear over the wind. It could’ve been my imagination. Maybe it was nothing. I scream her name again, and this time, I hear it… It’s weak, but it’s there.

“Help!”

My eyes gape. “Where, Scottie? Keep yelling!”

She says she’s underneath, but she can’t be trapped under the boulder, or she wouldn’t be alive. Even a much smaller rock could have killed her instantly. There’s a small pile of rubble, so I begin pulling away the loose bits of dirt and stone.

“Here!” she shouts.

I drop my cheek down, prying my goggles off and squinting inside the opening. It’s dark, but there’s some daylight showing through. “Scottie?”

“Yes!” she sobs. “I tried to squeeze under.”

I stumble back at the sound of her voice, my relief soaring. I swallow and drop to her level. “How do I get to you?”

“I dunno…” she chokes out. “I’m stuck. Tried to squeeze through.” Her words shake like she’s being racked with shivers. Even her chattering teeth can be heard over the air whistling through the narrow opening. She’s been here awhile—it’s a miracle she’s still alive.

“I’m gonna get you out, baby. Just stay calm.”

I force myself to push aside the impending panic attack and focus on the task at hand. Time to problem solve. The barricade is at least twelve feet tall. Some areas are closer to fourteen. Thankfully, I’ve been rock climbing and soloing since I was a kid, which allows me to spot a few handholds, but this is not a secure rock wall. Any of these could slide, taking me with it or crushing Scottie below.

First, I pick up her backpack by one of the straps and launch it over the heap. Almost positive it cleared the other side. I’ll find out in a minute, because I’ve got to climb over this thing to get to her.

Pulling off my gloves, I stuff them in my bag, along with the key ring in my pocket. My fists clench as I plan my route across. The wind isn’t doing me any favors, and in addition to being fucking freezing, it’s whipping up loose dirt in my face, so I’m grateful for the ski goggles. When I feel confident enough in the path I’ve chosen, I jump to seize my first handhold, instantly slip and hit the ground, stumbling backward a few steps. I try again, and on my second attempt, gain leverage.

My knuckles bloom white as I hang from the ledge andstretch with my free hand to the next target. The rock is large but could be loose, so I’ll have to act quickly. I go for it, but the boulder shifts and my fingers miss. I shoot an arm out to an opening above, and thankfully, it’s got a good chunk of grit that provides me with better purchase. Glimpsing down, I place a foot on a small lip on another boulder just as the rock next to it gives out. I freeze, waiting for the next movement. This is easily the dumbest fucking thing I’ve ever done.

A crevice in one of the rocks allows me to clasp it with my left hand. My fingers tremble as I move to the next mark and the one after that. As I traverse across the pile, there’s noticeably more gravel on this end. A little gravel is fine, but a lot can reduce friction.

My heart races. If I can get to the footing on my left, I’ll be able to get a better view of the other side. This fucker better not even think about rolling on me. I transfer one hand, falter, then throw an arm up and grab onto a sharp lip of the boulder that cuts into my fingers. I roar through gritted teeth, pulling myself up. There’s no choice but to grip it harder, bringing with it a pulsing pain. My foot finds a divot and pushes off while I reach for a different section. I feel around for anything, and finally, brush against something to hold onto. Then I wrap my hand around it, let go of the razor edge of the rock, and grunt as I haul my body over the top.

“Hell yeah,” I huff, wiping my palm on my pants and smearing blood across them.

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