“I can’t see the bottom. There’s too much mist in the way.”
“That’s okay. What’s the flow away from the waterfall?”
“Um, it’s pretty smooth. Moves fast. Looks deep.”
“And how high, or rather how far, is the drop?”
“From the height of the trees at the bottom, it’s easily fifty or sixty feet.”
Shit.
The highest waterfall I’ve ever gone over in a kayak was sixty feet, but then again, that was in a kayak with a helmet and the protection of the kayak all around me.
In training with the SEALs, we did dead drops from forty and fifty feet. Then there’s my favorite, where we do a HALO jump and land in the ocean. It’s not the height that bothers me; it’s what’s at the bottom to break my fall.
Rosalie’s already said she can’t see the bottom because of the mist. That alone makes me think there are rocks rather than a deep pool of water.
Which sucks for me.
“I’m headed back upstream, where I can cross to the other side. Then I’m going to see if I can scale down the waterfall.”
I explain my plan, knowing she needs some control. I picked up on that after following her in the trees all night.
“Okay, what should I do in the meantime?”
“Have you looked for a way to get down from where you are?”
“Yeah, I’m going to use the trees. There are several that I can reach easily.”
A chuckle escapes me. Of course, Rosie would turn to the trees. I would’ve scouted a path down the steep hill. Never would’ve occurred to me to use the trees. I should know better by now, and that gives me an idea about my path out of here.
“Are there trees on the far side of the falls?”
“Yes.” Excitement fills her voice. “But the top of the nearest tree is about a ten-foot drop. I don’t think you should risk that.”
I don’t think I should risk it either, but I’d rather scale ten feet down an unknown wall and move to the trees than climb down the fifty to sixty feet to the bottom.
It minimizes my risk.
It takes a minute to backtrack far enough that I think it’s safe to swim to the other side. Underestimating the current is the biggest risk I take. I kick off the bottom and let my sure strokes carry me to the other side.
With my tactical boots, I underestimate my kick strength. The boots impede my progress, yet I make it across the river well within the safety margin I built in.
One thing I love about Rosalie is I don’t have to mind her like our other rescues. Most of the women we rescue function at a level barely above catatonic.
Rosalie is a trooper.
I leave her to find her own way down, while I approach the drop-off with wariness and a healthy respect for the force of nature.
This close, the power of the waterfall turns thunderous. It’s all around me, a deep roar I feel more than hear. I make it to the other side, clinging to what handholds I find. There is a calm spot right at the lip of the falls.
Waist-high water swirls around me. The thunderous roar is everywhere. Mist fills the air.
For a moment, my thoughts turn to Rosalie. She’s a capable woman, but that doesn’t mean I’m not worried. But I have to face the challenge in front of me with absolute focus.
There is a path, although it’s covered in moss and slime. That last bit concerns me. True to her assessment, the tallest tree is about ten feet from the top of the falls. It’s thriving and looks sturdy enough.
Before I can talk myself out of it, I climb over the lip of the waterfall, say a prayer, then lower myself down, using my arms until the toe of my boot finds the tiny outcropping of rock I spied.
Just as I feared, it’s slick as shit. The hard sole of my boot can’t find purchase, which leaves me dangling sixty feet in the air by my fingertips; all eight of them.
“Well, fuck.” At least my fingers have a solid purchase on the rock above. I place the sole of my boots against the rock and push out for a better view.
“Ah, there.” A foot further down, there’s a solid ledge nearly a foot across.
Pointing my toes toward the small ledge, I do my best to flatten my body against the rock and create as much friction as possible.
With a deep breath, I slowly release the three fingers of my left hand. I drop down, but I’m still a few inches shy of the ledge. I do my best to press my entire body flat against the wall, then release the fingers of my right hand and drop two inches.
My boots find the ledge. I keep my arms spread wide, hands splayed, as my heels connect with the ledge. Momentum tries to take over, continuing the backward motion, but I clench my glutes and hold impossibly still.
Seven feet down, fifty-plus to go. The small ledge makes it nearly impossible to see where to go next. Which leaves me stuck.
“Shit.”
I make several attempts at an awkward twist, but my perch doesn’t allow any view of what’s beneath me. I can’t even squat and lower myself down.
“Fuckin’-A.” My curses grow louder and more colorful as the seconds turn to minutes. My anger heats, but I don’t lose concentration.
A few minutes turn to ten, and then fifteen as I debate whether I shouldn’t have gone over the falls and trusted there was a nice deep pool at the bottom.
No matter how I twist or position my body, I can’t establish my next step.
“Hey.” Rosalie’s soft voice reaches out to me, and I’m sure I’m dreaming because she’s far too close. “Hayes…” Louder, more insistent, she’s right behind me. But that can’t be. Rosie is supposed to meet me at the base of the waterfall.
“Hayes, can you hear me?” Arms and legs spread eagle, her words finally sink in.
“Where are you?”
“Right behind you. In the tree. What are you doing?”
“What’s it look like?” I don’t mean to snap at her, but my words cut. The roar of the water does nothing to cover her sharp intake of breath. “Sorry. I’m a little stuck.”
“Want some help?”
“I can’t see where to go.”
“Let me guide you.”
“Do you see a way down?”
“Yeah, you’re over the worst of it.” Her confidence, for some weird reason, pisses me off.
I’m the one who’s supposed to be saving her. Not the other way around.
“Move your left hand down a foot or so.”
I slowly lower my left hand.
“There you go. There’s a rock right there… Yes, that’s it. Grab that and…”
“Only got three fingers on that hand, luv. My grip isn’t strong enough to hold my body with three fingers.”
“Oh, right, but it doesn’t matter…”
I’ll be the judge of that.
FOURTEEN
Rosalie
My hands aren’t clammy from the mist, I’ve never been this scared in my life.
Really? This is worse than Matias holding a knife to your throat?
I groan at the admonishment from my inner voice.
Yes, that was scary, but it was just me. Hayes is counting on me to help him down the waterfall. It’s a lot of pressure.
If I wasn’t perched in a tree trying to help Hayes down, I would’ve punctuated my words with a stamp of my foot. As it is, my fingers curl around a branch overhead and I bite my tongue. There’s no use arguing with myself.