This one was intended as an expansion on a snippet from my "Communications" series…it apparently didn't want to become long, though.
4. Call for Help
It was amazing how everything could go so wrong so quickly, Virgil thought. One minute, he'd been enjoying a challenging rock climb, and the next, he was battered and bruised, tangled in his rope and suspended perilously over a hundred-foot drop.
Ironically, he'd been switching out old climbing anchors in the rock face for newer, safer ones. He had put the old ones there himself in his early climbing days, not long after they had moved to the island. While taking a brush-up class recently, he had learned that the type of anchor he used on the island was obsolete. In the few weeks since the class, whenever he'd had a day off, he had gone climbing and worked on installing new anchors in place of the old ones.
Unfortunately, he'd been in the process of tying his line to one of the older anchors when a rockslide started on the slope above him.
It was a minor slide – just a couple dozen rocks, really – but it hadn't felt minor when it had hit him. He'd pressed himself as close to the rock face as he could, but a few of the rocks had still clipped him, bouncing off his helmet and his shoulders. Then a large one hit his right bicep, tearing his fingers from their hold. The sudden movement threw him off balance, and he fell a few heart-stopping feet before his safety line jerked him to a halt, spinning him around dizzyingly.
When the rocks stopped falling, he slowly opened his eyes and was startled to find himself staring out into open space. When he turned his head to the left, he was looking down toward the treetops a hundred feet below. Somehow, when he had fallen – and he honestly had no idea how it could have happened – his rope had wrapped around him. His right arm was pinned to his side, his back was pressed against the rock, and his legs were dangling below him.
Only his left arm was free. He reached up toward the rope, wondering if he could pull himself back into an upright position, but the movement made his line lurch alarmingly, and he froze.
"Okay," he muttered to himself. "This is…interesting. Now what?"
He glanced upward, and for a split second, his heart stopped beating – the anchor that was holding all of his weight was bent at a sharp angle, and little bits of rock were crumbling away from around it.
He gulped – there was only one thing he could do. He was suddenly grateful that it was his left arm that was free as he activated his comm. system.
"Hey, Scott?" he said, trying to keep the fear from his voice.
There was a moment's pause, then Scott's voice replied, "Yeah, Virg?"
"How fast do you think you can make it to the cliff on the northwest corner of the island?" Virgil winced as the line wrapped around him tightened slightly, digging into his arm.
"Depends on the reason."
Virgil sighed. He felt stupid, but this was no time to let his pride get in the way. "Okay, how's this for a reason: I hit a bit of a rockslide while I was climbing. I'm okay, but I somehow ended up all tangled up in my rope, and I think my anchor may be failing."
"Hey, you know, that's a pretty good reason. I'll be there in five minutes!"
"Okay, thanks!" Virgil sighed again and settled in to wait.
A minute later, he heard the distinctive bass roar of his Bird taking off, and he rolled his eyes. Great. If Scott was flying Two, then he would probably have Gordon or Alan – or both – manning the rescue platform.
He was never going to live this down.
The line jerked, dropping him down a foot, and a small shower of pebbles pattered down around him.
On the other hand, he thought quickly, living something down was far better than not living at all.
Thunderbird Two drifted to a stop fifty feet overhead, and Virgil shut his eyes against the dust stirred up by her downdraft. Motors whined, and he cracked his eyes open just as the rescue platform dropped down in front of him.
He looked into Gordon and Alan's smirking faces and grinned. "Hey, this is nice," he said, shouting to be heard over Two's engines. "Saves me the trouble of climbing back down."
Just then, there was a sudden loud crack, and the rope around Virgil went completely slack, dropping him down toward the rescue platform.
It was only a three-foot drop, but Virgil couldn't stifle a yelp as he plunged downward.
Gordon and Alan caught him, stumbling back against the platform railing and supporting him until he could get his legs under him.
He straightened slowly, feeling his brothers' hands holding him steady as the rope fell away from around him. He rolled his shoulders and winced – he was going to have some bruises from the rockslide.
He took a deep breath and gave his younger brothers a shaky grin. "Good timing," he said. He raised his watch to his lips. "Thanks, Scott."
"Any time," Scott said.