“The fact is, I’m still angry at . . . well, maybe God. So I get the idea that maybe I’m not his favorite, but, we have nothing else, Jen. We’re not even at the end of our rope—literally, we have no rope.” He tugged her close again. “I’m getting cold without you.”
She lay against him for a long moment, her hand against his beating heart.
He looked up, to the sifting of the white, dropping like stars from the sky. And he couldn’t help it, because yes, he was desperate—God, if you’re for us, please save us.
“Ham might be dead.” She leaned away again, her blue eyes fierce. “Or he might be alive, but I know that Jake and Aria and Sasha will be dead if we don’t get out of here.” She untangled herself from his arms. “You’re like a freakin’ furnace.”
He stared at her, not sure if he should be panicking as she got up. “What are you doing?”
“You told me that today, we save lives. I’m going to get that rope.”
“Jenny—”
“If we stay, we freeze to death. I’d rather die trying.”
He wanted to yell. But she was probably right. He stared at her, his jaw tight. “Okay. If you’re going to go down, please anchor in the entire way.”
She pulled off his webbing sling and looped it over her shoulders. Along with his ice ax, she had a half-dozen anchors, two Prusik lines, and two quick clips. Then she picked up her axe. “Happy?”
“Hardly, but whatever.”
“I’ll be back in a jiffy.”
He wanted to look away, but dread kept his gaze glued.
She walked over to the edge and drove in the first screw. She clipped her quick clip to it, leaving his to dangle, then stepped over the edge.
“I see the rope. It’s about eight feet down.”
He couldn’t help himself—he zipped up his jacket and rolled over, crawling to the edge.
There it was, lying like a coiled snake, on an ice bridge. One of the ends dangled down, as if it might be trying to slither away.
His heart nearly left his body. “Please, Jen, be careful.”
“Yeah.” She drove in another screw at knee level, and clipped his line to it, then detached hers and worked her way down into the deep blue.
He followed her red cap, listened to her tiny grunts, the chipping and clank of the ice screws, her biners against the ice, as she worked her way down, using the screws like a ladder, moving her quick clip down with each one.
He couldn’t breathe until she stepped out on the icy ledge. The bridge thinned as it stretched over the abyss. The edge of the rope lay just out of reach, about four feet out.
“Jenny—”
“I have to unclip.”
He might throw up. “You’re killing me.”
She unclipped. Dug her ice axe into the root of the bridge. Reached out and snagged the end of the rope. “Got it!”
He let out his breath. But his heart didn’t start thumping again until she backed up, re-clipping into the biner.
She stood on the edge and began to pull up the rope, winding it between her neck and her arm to loop it around her body.
Overhead, another rumble, and he tensed as the thunder of a faraway slide shook the mountain.
“Hurry.”
Snow spilled down, careening against the ice, falling.
She looked up.
“Anchor in,” he said.
“I’m secure.” She resumed her coiling.
The ache in his leg had died to a deep burn, but the cold had numbed it, turned it manageable. He was a decent ice-climber. And, given her precision as she climbed down, they could make it to the top.
Into the whiteout.
“Coming up.” She’d tied the rope around her, securing it. Then she unclipped her quick clip and set her ice axe, reaching for the higher screw.
“Clip in—”
But the thunder from above arrested his words and he turned.
He threw his arm up as snow and ice crested down from the lip, ricocheting against the walls. “Get down!”
The wash buffeted him, chunks of ice the size of footballs slamming into the ledge, careening off, a shower of snow pouring over him. Another crack. Above him, ice rocks were bouncing off a thin ice bridge webbing the crevasse at an angle not far above him and hitting his ledge. As he watched, a monster boulder broke free.
“Watch out!” He covered his head.
She screamed. The icy boulders banged through the chamber and a terrible explosion echoed up against the icy blue walls.
It jerked his head up.
The ice bridge had collapsed.
Jenny dangled from her perch, gripping the nub of the ice screw with one mitten, her axe dug into the blue wall with another. Her quick clip dangled from her harness. But she hung out over a ledge, nothing but air beneath her, nothing for her feet to grip.
“I’m coming for you!”
“Stay there!” She looked up, breathing hard. “I got this.”
But she was sweating, her eyes big, and the ice continued to fall.
No way was he going to watch her plummet to her death. He rolled over and grabbed his ice axe, looped the handle over his wrist, and extended it down. “Grab this. Let me pull you up.”
She was trembling, her feet scratching for purchase, breaking free, her arms frozen to the wall. “I can’t.” Her voice emerged thin and raspy. “I can’t—”
“Look at me.”
She shook her head.
“Look at me, Jacie.”
She moved. Probably forced herself to look up, given the look of terror on her face.
“Don’t look down. You’re anchored in good with your ice axe. Just reach out and grab my axe.”
“No! I’m just going to pull you down. I can do this.”
“You’re too jacked up. Breathe. Grab my axe. Let me help—”
“You’ll fall!”
“Then we’ll fall together!” Okay, all this emotion didn’t help. Orion schooled his voice. “Grab it.”
“No. You’re not falling again. Not because of me!”
“This isn’t your fault! Now grab the axe or I’m coming down there!”
So maybe he’d given up trying to tuck everything back in.
She glared at him. He glared back. “I’m completely serious, Jace.”
“Fine.” She blew out hard, then lunged for his axe. Any purchase her crampons had dislodged and suddenly she was hanging from the two axes. His entire body screamed with the weight of her, but he bit it back. Dug down, and with every ounce he had in him, hauled her up.
“Climb up with your feet!”
She slammed one foot then the other hard into the ice, working with him as he wrestled her to the top.
She lipped the side of their ledge and he grabbed her harness, dragging her the rest of the way. She sprawled on the ice next to him.
“Now breathe.” His words were more for himself than her, but he rolled onto his back, his hand over his chest. Breathe.
“You shouldn’t have done that. You could have gone over.”
But he ignored her. “What’s that?” He pointed to the broken ice bridge above them, where the deadly boulder had originated. And, more importantly, the frozen blue fabric revealed in the broken edge.
“What’s—” She rolled over. “That’s a backpack.” She got up. “I think it’s—a climber. A frozen . . . a dead climber.” She made a face, turned away.