Aftershock

Thankfully, his skull didn’t hit the concrete.

He unhooked his boot and glanced around, feeling sheepish. Lauren was striding toward him with a protective helmet under one arm. She looked upset. He scrambled to his feet, smiling to let her know he wasn’t hurt.

“Just like skydiving?” she said, shoving the helmet at him. It hit him in the stomach like a not-so-playful punch.

“Once I’m up there, it will be more like skydiving.”

She followed his gaze to the top. “Except, no parachute.”

“Right.”

When her eyes reconnected with his, he read the fear and anger in them. She was mad at him for scaring her. He hadn’t experienced female concern in so long, he almost couldn’t recognize it. This level of emotion was foreign to him. He marveled for a moment, soaking it in. “I’ll be okay,” he said.

She crossed her arms over her chest, frowning at the ground where he’d just fallen.

“I think I’m doing it wrong.”

“Then why risk getting injured?”

“If I can’t get the hang of it this afternoon, I won’t keep going.”

She let out a ragged breath and walked away, her hands clenched into tight fists. He stared at her retreating form for a few seconds too long. She had a cute little butt. In another life, he might have tried to get lucky with her.

In this life, he wasn’t free to pursue female company, and the only person he got lucky with was himself.

Flushing, he turned his attention back to the wall. Taking a quick drink from his camel pack, he stuck the helmet on his head and reevaluated the gear. The lower square had stayed secure because it was lodged against a piece of rebar.

He glanced up at the crevice, where the crosshatch of rebar was more exposed. The structural component helped reinforce the concrete. Not enough to prevent it from buckling, in this case, but well enough to keep them trapped. Even if he could chisel his way through the concrete layer, the bands of rebar created an effective metal prison.

He repositioned the higher square against a piece of rebar, putting his weight on the loop to test its strength. This time, it held. Using the loops as footholds was awkward and unfeasible. He needed to attach clips to the loops, secure a lead rope to the wall and thread it through the clips as he progressed.

Frowning, he took a fifty-foot rope from his pack and attached it to his harness. He’d have to ascend the wall, little by little. The only problem was that he couldn’t anchor the other end of the rope.

This was a two-man job.

Don had greater upper-body strength than Lauren. Garrett called him over. “Can you hold the line and give me slack when I need it?”

“Be glad to,” he said, picking it up.

Garrett realized that Don couldn’t handle his full weight for more than a few seconds. He’d have to use another line for climbing. He attached a clip to the upper loop and threaded a shorter rope through it, gripping one end in his hands and attaching the other to his belt. This way, Don’s line was just for safety.

Leaning back, he braced his boots against the wall. At the same time, he pulled on the shorter rope, climbing fist over fist. He made slow progress, walking up the wall carefully. It was a hell of an upper-body workout. He wished he wasn’t so goddamned heavy. Finally, his harness was even with the upper loop. Grasping the rope with his left hand, he used his right to clip the loop directly to his belt.

“Hold the line steady, but don’t pull on it unless this breaks,” he said to Don.

“Got it,” Don replied.

When he let go of the rope, his harness held tight, anchored to the wall by a well-placed metal square.

He exhaled a pent-up breath.

Don gave him a nod of encouragement. They both knew he had a long haul ahead of him. The safety line was no guarantee against injury. But, unlike Lauren, Don didn’t belabor those details. He understood what needed to be done.

Working quickly, Garrett placed another metal square higher in the crevice. He attached a clip, threaded the short rope through and pulled himself up.

His biceps were already burning, and he’d have to repeat this process about ten times, or every three feet. Instead of focusing on the pain and difficulty, he concentrated on the task and let his mind go blank.

It was just like running ten miles or humping ninety pounds of gear through the desert. You did it one step at a time, one foot in front of the other. Unpleasant tasks were accomplished inch by inch, end over end.

As the crevice widened, each metal square was more easily placed. The climbing became increasingly difficult, however. By the time he reached the top, he was shaking from exertion and dripping sweat.

He couldn’t celebrate his victory, or even take the flag out of his pack. Hanging from the ceiling, suspended by his harness, he rested for a moment, waiting for the feeling to come back into his hands.

Glancing over his left shoulder, he saw that Jeb’s corner was still and quiet. He hoped it would stay that way.

Lauren had joined Don at the end of the rope. That was good. If he fell, they would both have to bear his weight.

Although she didn’t say anything, he could read the concern on her face. Garrett didn’t blame her. He’d made it all the way up here, and now he didn’t know if he could hang the damned flag, let along climb back down.

He took a drink of tepid water and tried to reenergize. At boot camp, one of his instructors had stressed the importance of a healthy imagination. He’d claimed that Marines who could visualize a happy place during their downtime were better able to deal with the trials and tribulations of deployment.

Garrett’s favorite coping mechanism was fantasizing about sex. There was no happier place than between a woman’s legs.

He pictured Lauren writhing underneath him, her lips parted in ecstasy.

Then he took a deep breath and flexed his hands, focusing on reality. Directly above him, a strip of smoky-blue sky peeked through the crevice. The glimpse of the outside world bolstered his spirits further.

Garrett understood the benefits of sunlight better than most people. Fresh air was a precious commodity to humans in confinement. Without it, men became monsters. He knew that from experience.

He reached into his pack for the mirror. His movements were clumsy from fatigue and he fumbled, almost dropping it. The fact that he was suspended in a reclining position didn’t help. He kept his grip on the wire hanger but leaned back too far. His helmet slipped off and tumbled through the air before smashing on the ground.

Fuck.

Lauren stared at the cracked helmet in horror, as if it was his head. Even Don appeared distressed.

Garrett couldn’t afford to panic, and looking down made him feel queasy, so he returned his attention to the crevice. The rebar barrier left open spaces that were almost large enough to accommodate his hand. He slipped the mirror past the barrier and squinted at the too-bright reflection.

The sun was out. That was all he could see, and it was enough.

He didn’t want to expend too much effort looking around when his top priority was hanging the flag. Instead of removing the mirror, he pointed it upward and bent the wire around the rebar. Reflective flashes could be seen for miles. Then he took the flag from his pack and passed it through the crevice.

Don had attached the fabric to a wooden pole with a tie on one end. Garrett tied the pole to the rebar and hoped the flag wouldn’t fly away in the wind.

He had one more task to complete, which was checking for cell phone service. It was worth a shot, even though power was down all over the county. As he wrestled the phone from his pocket, he started swaying in midair.

Uh-oh.

An aftershock rumbled through the structure, ripping the phone from his hand. Concrete bits rained on his face and several metal squares popped simultaneously. He fell about ten feet, gritting his teeth as the harness caught. The force of motion sent him swinging like a kamikaze trapeze toward the far wall.