Climate of Negatives
Expendable, pt II
Perversely, the storm lessened as the two survivors huddled on the narrow span, the wind trickling down to a pensive murmur. The river, swollen from the dam that had been destroyed by Thrush, churned and gurgled below.
Solo knew he needed to get the girl to solid ground, but now that the worst danger had passed, he took a moment to stand and search downstream. If he could see some sign of his friend, he might at least be able to recover his body for a decent burial—
"Excuse me!" The sound of Kuryakin's voice made Solo jump half out of his skin.
Looking straight down, he saw his friend clinging impossibly to the invisible strand of molecular rope that was looped around the span just below his feet. Somehow, the resourceful man had managed to anchor himself before making the mad plunge into the river. Solo felt a huge grin split his face.
"Don't just stand there… give me a hand!" Clinging to the wire-thin rope, looking like a drowned kitten, Kuryakin struggled to pull his lean body out of the ruthless tug of the current. "This water is very cold!"
"You crafty little spider!" Solo leaned down and grasped the wire, ignoring the way the rope cut his hands as he reeled his friend upward. "I thought you were a goner! Did you get perforated at all?"
"No." When Kuryakin was close enough, he reached up and grasped the edge of the stone, pulled himself up onto the span. He lay there for a long moment, gasping and shivering. His hands were bloody, his smile white against the streaks of mud that ran out of his hair and down his face. "I want a medal for this one. For both of us."
"You can have mine," Solo said, panting and shaking his own stinging hands. "I'll settle for a cold martini and a warm debutante."
"A medal for our UNCLE marksman, then. And a case of vodka!"
"He's earned it! Let's get off of this thing—"
Solo held out his hand, and Kuryakin clasped it. If they hadn't been blood-brothers before that moment… they were for ever thereafter.