Page 39 of Canyon Killer
“Help! Help!”
Bethany bit her lip to keep from laughing. Grace sounded like the victim in the local melodrama.
“What’s wrong?” Tony called down.
“I’ve hurt my ankle.”
“Can you put weight on it?” he asked.
“No. It hurts too bad. Help!” Grace added a note of hysteria.
The volunteers gathered around Tony. “We’re going to set up a rigging that will allow us to lower and raise a sling,” he said. “Rigging makes use of various systems of pulley, ropes and other equipment to work around obstacles, multiply force or allow safer access. Today you’ll see some examples and learn some terms, but it can take years and more advanced courses to become proficient. You won’t be called on to set rigging by yourself, but we want everyone to be familiar with the terms so that you can assist in rope rescue if needed.”
Thus began two hours of tying knots, affixing various equipment and discussing angles, degrees of force and a lot of other terms Bethany was sure wouldn’t stick in her head. But as she watched and listened, and occasionally assisted, she began to connect certain actions with specific results and the ropes became less confusing spiderwebs and more beautiful, and practical, designs.
She approached Tony when they were packing up to leave the canyon. “I want to do more of this,” she said.
“More climbing?”
“Not so much the climbing as the rigging,” she said. “I love seeing how everything fits together. It makes sense to me.”
He nodded. “Watch for the announcement of beginner rigging for rescue clinics, and sign up for one,” he said. “We can always use more volunteers with that training.”
On the ride back to SAR headquarters, Bethany sat between Carter and Dalton. “Today was great,” she said. “I may have found my search and rescue specialty.”
“You don’t like to climb,” Dalton said.
“I’ll get better at climbing,” she said. “But this isn’t about climbing. It’s about using the tools to help climbers.”
“I think you should leave that kind of thing to people with more experience.” He patted her knee.
She glared at him, but he was already looking in another direction. Never mind. She wasn’t going to let her brothers dampen her enthusiasm. She couldn’t wait to tell Ian about today’s discovery. He could help her with the climbing aspects. It would be something they could do together.
* * *
Ian was falling, arms flailing, desperately trying to grab hold of something but only grasping air. He slammed into unyielding rock, and pain ripped through his body. His fingers instinctively closed around something—part of the scaffolding? So much pain, white hot, stealing his breath. His grip loosened as consciousness faded. Sliding into empty air once more…
He emerged again, like a diver breaking the surface of the ocean. He was on his back on some hard surface. The ground? No. His legs dangled unsupported. He forced open his eyes, trying to see past the gray fog. Red rock. Blue sky. Where was he?
“Hey! Hey, mister!”
He turned his head toward the side but could see nothing. He tried to respond, but the words emerged as a groan.
“I’m gonna go for help. Hang on.”
Another groan, then he slipped beneath the fog again…
Sun burned his face, but the rest of his body was icy. So cold. He ought to be numb, but pain gripped him like a vise. What had happened? A fall, but where was he climbing? Red rock and hot sun. Was he in Yosemite? Morocco? He couldn’t remember.
Where was his team? Had they abandoned him? Had they left him here to die?
* * *
Back at searchand rescue headquarters, the volunteers unloaded their equipment and stored it away. They were almost done when their phones starting going off with alerts from their first responders app. “Injured climber at Humboldt Canyon,” Grace said as she read the same words on her phone.
“Another protester?” Ryan asked.
“Maybe,” Tony said. “Let’s get all the equipment back out and loaded up. The emergency dispatcher has already contacted EMS, and they have an ambulance on the way.”
