A World Without Heroes - Brandon Mull [55]
“A big mess,” Jason agreed. “At least we survived. And we already have a third of the Word.”
She took a shuddering breath. “Way to find the bright side.”
Jason fingered the iron lever. “Think the lever will make the elevator rise?”
“I sure hope so,” Rachel said. “If we have to climb a barbed chain, I might walk back to Galloran and ask to be put on his secret farm.”
“Hop on,” Jason suggested. “I’ll lean over and pull the lever.”
“I’ll throw the lever,” Rachel corrected. “I should do something.”
Jason almost argued, but stopped himself. “Fine. Then we’ll be even.”
“No. I still jump off the next cliff.”
“I’m hoping we’re finished with cliffs.”
“You know what I mean. I’ll take the next big risk.”
“I really was trying to be nice.”
She studied him skeptically. “I think it also had a lot to do with getting your own way. If we want to succeed, we need to be able to trust each other. I can be stubborn too. But we need to be teammates.”
“You’re right that I like getting my way,” Jason admitted. “But sometimes stubbornness can be a good thing. Like when Coach Bennion tried to quit.”
“Who? What?”
“I was in seventh grade, playing baseball with a club team. Coach Bennion was an assistant. He really helped me with my swing. Anyhow, our real coach was very strict. One day he had to go out of town, so Coach Bennion was running practice. Bennion was more laid back, and a bunch of the guys started goofing off, since Bennion wasn’t much of an enforcer.”
“Were you one of those guys?” Rachel asked.
“We were all guilty. Bennion tried to put his foot down, but we smelled weakness, and some of the guys talked back to him. I’d never seen Bennion mad, but his face went red, and he told us he was done; we could coach ourselves. I felt horrible. I followed him off the field, apologizing and telling him we’d do whatever he wanted to make it up to him. He told me to run a hundred laps. He wasn’t being serious. He was just trying to get rid of me. He got in his car and left.”
“And you ran a hundred laps?” Rachel asked.
“Most of the other players went home. A few ran part of the way. But I ran a hundred laps. I mean, I walked part of it. When my mom came to pick me up, I explained what had happened, and she let me keep going. It took until after midnight. Somehow Coach Bennion heard. And he decided not to quit.”
“That’s pretty cool,” Rachel said.
“Being stubborn can be good!”
“Not if it makes you a bully. I’ll never be able to trust you during a coin toss.”
“True, I may do something terrible like risk my life instead of yours.”
“You had good intentions,” Rachel acknowledged. “It was even sweet. But with the kind of danger we’re in, trust matters a lot.”
Jason folded his arms. “Okay. I’ll make you a deal. Next time instead of taking matters into my own hands, I’ll argue until you give up.”
“That would be better. But don’t count on me always giving up.”
Jason stepped onto the platform. Splintered and rotting, less than three feet square, the planks thankfully felt solid. Rachel climbed on as well, gripping the heavy chain below where the barbed wire links started as the platform gently swayed.
“Should we do this?” Jason asked.
“I’m ready,” Rachel confirmed, leaning over and placing a hand on the lever.
“We don’t know how this will work,” Jason warned. “Might be a rough ride.”
“I’ll hold on tight. You do the same.” She pulled the lever and quickly gripped the chain with both hands. A tumbling sound rattled inside the walls of the cavern, and the platform started rising.
The chain and platform hauled Jason and Rachel upward, accelerating alarmingly, clattering ever louder as the speed of the ascent increased. Jason squeezed the chain. Pulleys shrieked. The chain vibrated. Near the top the speed decreased. For a moment the chain slackened in his hands as inertia continued to carry them upward. After they reached the weightless apex of their climb, gravity took over, and they fell until the chain jerked tight again with bone-wrenching abruptness, nearly breaking Jason’s desperate hold.
Jason and Rachel stood face to face,