The Anomaly(22)

“Be careful,” I said.

“Yes, Dad,” he said.



And so we watched. It took a while. It soon became clear that Pierre’s assessment of the canyon wall was correct, however, and it didn’t represent a technically challenging climb. He moved quickly and surely.

Once in a while he paused and appeared to make choices, sometimes avoiding what looked like the straightest route, I presume because there was a longer alternative that would make for a more feasible ascent for the rest of us.

Molly filmed enough of it that the shirt-clad figure slowly getting closer and closer to the opening could be cut into the show to look like me. Especially as Pierre got higher, there was no way of telling the difference. Meanwhile, the real me started to feel queasy and had to stop watching.

“Yeah,” Ken said, accepting a cigarette. “I’m simply not seeing this as credible, mate. You, maybe. You jog and stuff. But me? I mean, fuck’s sake.”

“But so what was the plan?” Gemma asked. “You knew this place was supposed to be halfway up the canyon wall.”

“Be honest with you, love,” Ken said, “and I don’t think I’ll break Nolan’s heart by saying this: I did not for a moment think we were going to find this thing.”

“Mind blown,” I muttered.

“And according to the Kincaid article it’s supposed to be a lot higher than this. I know Nolan said he thought some of the details might have been changed, but Nolan does talk an awful lot of bollocks. So my thinking was, if we found something, then we’d cliff-hang the show as a ‘To Be Continued,’ and come back with some proper climbers with ropes and all that jazz.”

“So this is great news,” Gemma said with a sly smile. “It means you get to go up there yourselves. You must be delighted.”

“Yeah,” Ken and I said, unconvincingly, in unison.



“Piece of cake,” Pierre said as he jumped back onto the boat. He was sweating but not much out of breath. “And the last section is the easiest, which is great, because people will be tired by then. I could see a way straight up. So I didn’t bother. This really is not hard.”

“Are you sure?”

“It’s more than hiking but most of it’s barely climbing. Which makes sense, right? Kincaid doesn’t mention it being tough. Despite claiming the cavern was three or four times higher than this. Kind of a giveaway in retrospect, huh?”

Ken and I glanced at each other. “Seriously,” Pierre said. “Nolan, my mom could do it.”

“Didn’t you tell me your mom once free-climbed El Capitan?”

“Years ago. And she barely got halfway.”

“Lazy bitch,” Ken said.

“It’s actually kind of hard, dude.”

“He was joking, Pierre.”

“Oh. Well, not my mom, then. Your mom could do it.”

“I doubt that,” I said. “Even before she died.”

“Christ, sorry. I’m going to stop talking now.”

“So how would we tackle it?” Ken asked dubiously, peering up at the wall.

“We all go together,” Pierre said, taking off my shirt and handing it back to me. “Couple yards apart. That way the person behind me can see what I’m doing, which holds I’m choosing. There’s a few bits where there’s a hard way and an easy way. I’d make sure we all went the easy way.”

Ken thought about it. “Fucking hell,” he said, turning to the assembled. “Okay, look. Mountain Goat here says he thinks it’s a go. Obviously I’m not going to tell anybody they have to do this, or even ask—and that includes you, Nolan—but…”

“I’m not missing it,” Feather said immediately.

“Let’s do it,” Molly said, with the gameness only a sporty Cali girl with two older brothers can muster.

Gemma didn’t look much more enthusiastic than I felt, but she shrugged. “Sure. YOLO, right?”

“I’ll have a crack at it,” Ken said. “But I’ll go last. That way I’ll only be killing myself if I plummet like a sack of bricks.”

So then all eyes were on me.

“Christ,” I said.





Chapter

13



Pierre went back onto the wall and climbed up far enough to give room for Feather to follow. Then Molly, then Gemma. Then me. I was half expecting to hear Ken shout, “So long, suckers,” and see him merrily untying the boat and instructing Dylan to take him back to all the vodka. Within a minute of scooting up out of the way, however, I looked down to see his face a couple of feet below, meaty hands gripping the rock.

“I hate you,” he said.

We all wore backpacks, contents disproportionately spread in terms of weight and importance. Pierre had the camera and batteries, Molly the sound gear, and so on. I was allotted the sandwiches. Make of that what you wish.

On Pierre’s advice, we took a moment to get settled.

Then we started up the wall.



The lowest portion was barely more than a tough hike, with less margin for error on where you put your feet. After about fifteen minutes this gave way to something more like actual climbing. The surface of the wall was uneven, however, with plenty of extrusions and crevices. Pierre took it slowly, stopping every five minutes to give people a chance to shake their arms and clench and unclench gloved hands.