The Ascent(54)

Not now, I scolded myself. You want to lament, do it on your own goddamn time.

Andrew’s voice echoed to me again. “Tim, did you hear me?”

Cramped and restricted, I could hardly hinge my head far enough back on my neck to make out the circle of light above. “I hear you.” My voice was just a notch above a whisper, yet it echoed from every direction. Below, the shaft appeared to widen just enough to permit my arms movement. I brought them up to my face and wiped away the sweat that was stinging my eyes. If the rope snapped, I wondered how far a drop it would be before I hit the ground.

Andrew’s voice floated down to me a third time, but I could no longer understand what he was saying.

“It’s opening up,” I informed him, not knowing if he could hear me or not. “I can move my arms.”

I could crane my neck and peer down the rest of the shaft, too, although the sight only caused my stomach to cramp. Around my groin, the harness was too tight, and I started to feel my feet going numb.

Hollinger was a few feet below me. The platform on which he lay sprawled and unconscious was just a narrow lip jutting from the wall of the shaft—a miracle that it had caught him. My own bulk blocked the daylight from funneling down so I couldn’t make out any specific details concerning the severity of his condition, but I could see that he was no longer wearing his helmet, which was not a good sign.

My feet touched down on the ice shelf, and I reached up and tugged at the secondary line to alert the others. The shelf felt solid beneath my weight. I plastered my face and chest against the frozen wall for fear that if I didn’t I’d lose my balance and fall off the ledge.

My left foot struck Hollinger’s leg.

“Can you hear me, Hollinger?” I whispered into the wall of ice. The warmth of my breath bounced back at me off the ice. “Can you hear me?”

Hollinger groaned but didn’t move.

I looked up. The opening was no bigger than the size of a quarter now. Raising my voice the slightest bit, I said, “He’s alive.”

Undoubtedly fearful their voices would create too much vibration, the others did not respond.

“Okay, Holly,” I said, pulling off my gloves and stuffing them into the pouch of my anorak. “Hang with me, man. Hang with me.”

Sliding one hand along the wall, I was able to grab hold of the secondary line. I ran it through the karabiners at my waist, then pulled at it to test the strength of the pitons the guys had secured in the surface of the glacier far above. It was strong and would hold. It would have to.

My fingers already beginning to tighten up in the cold, I fumbled with the clasps on the harness, unable to get them undone until my third attempt. Around me, the world seemed to sigh. I paused. There sounded a dissonant, sonorous splintering from somewhere below me, and my heart froze in my chest. Something snapped and fell away; I heard the hollow whistle of its descent but did not hear it hit the ground.

The ledge was crumbling under my weight.

I yanked the buckles from the harness and climbed out of it just like stepping out of a pair of pants, my heart slamming against my ribs, and crouched down, while the splintering, popping sounds resonated throughout the ice. Straddling Hollinger, I worked the harness over his legs and around his waist, where I fastened it with increasingly numb fingers. At eye level, I noticed a lightning bolt zigzagging in the ice wall, creeping higher and higher. A second fissure appeared beside it, peeling up the wall from the base of the ice ledge.

The harness secured, I grabbed Hollinger by his coat and tried to sit him upright. A ghostly moan escaped him. It was futile; he was deadweight.

“Come on …”

Sweat stinging my eyes, I tugged at the rope affixed to the harness. A second after that, the slack in the rope went taut. Hollinger’s body slid up against the ice wall, his head lolling like a spring-loaded toy on his neck. I could see the gash at his left temple and the black blood already freezing in ribbons down the side of his face and neck. There was blood on the ledge where he’d struck it, too.

The shaft creaked like a flight of ancient stairs. I held my breath as Hollinger ascended the shaft, his hip brushing my face in the confined space. He dangled like a rag doll, his limbs limp as streamers. His body blocked out the light.

I pulled my gloves on, flexing the feeling back into my fingers, and gripped the rope in two hands. Just as I planted one spiked sole against the ice wall, the ledge beneath me broke away. The sound was like a tree keeling over. Gravity forced me down with it, my vision blurring and the rope burning through my palms. I could feel the heat of friction through the wool gloves.

I plummeted maybe ten feet before the rope jerked me like a yo-yo. As I twisted at the end of my rope over the narrow abyss, I glanced over my shoulder, my breath harsh and arid. I saw nothing except darkness. Directly above my head, I could see the gaping wound in the ice wall where the ledge had been just seconds before.

Above, one of the guys shouted my name.

“I’m all right,” I called.

Once again, I planted my boot against the wall and proceeded to climb until the shaft grew too narrow for my legs to bend and the others had to pull me up.

I noticed the cracks in the ice wall were climbing steadily with me.

Jesus…

“Faster!” I shouted. “The shaft’s gonna split!”

But they were pulling me as fast as they could. I shifted enough to see them haul Hollinger’s lifeless body out of the shaft. Silver daylight spilled down into the hole. I winced and tried to grab the rope, but the shaft was too narrow. It was like being bound by rope at the shoulders.