Page 65 of Chasing Paradise

And kick.

“Fuck this,” the guy grumbled, trying to hold himself up with his legs and one arm as his other hand went down.

I saw the glint of metal behind his back, the strap holding the gun to his body.

I pulled my leg back up as panic shot through me.

I had one shot at this.

Did I kick his face for the most damage?

His midsection for the best chance at knocking him off balance?

Sucking in a deep breath, I slammed my leg down with every bit of hopeless fear within me.

Right into his hand.

I watched in horror as his hand opened.

As the rope slipped.

Then, in slow motion, as his whole body arched back and fell.

His scream filled my ears as I squeezed my eyes shut.

There was no thud, not from so far up.

Just an eerie, telling silence.

My whole body was shaking as I opened my eyes again, looking up toward safety.

I had to go.

Before I lost more strength trying to hold on.

Everything in me screamed to stay, to wait. But wait for what? To be rescued? Who was coming for me? Wick was silent.

Injured?

Dead?

Off running to save his own life?

It didn’t matter.

All that mattered was I was on my own. I had to get myself up.

As I reached one arm carefully up, then the other, I decided that as soon as I got back to Navesink Bank, I owed my cousin Chris an apology for each time I grumbled about the massive wood and rope obstacle course she insisted we train on at least every other month.

She was right.

You never knew when your upper body strength might just save your whole damn life.

My legs weren’t entirely useless. Each time my arms went up another foot or so, they each went to a new rung and pushed. But it was almost a completely upper body workout the whole way up.

And the further I went, the more my body shook at the prospect of a fall.

The cliff scraped against my back as I went, and little trickles of blood mingled with the sweat pouring down my spine.

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