Book of Days_ A Novel - James L. Rubart [42]
Regards,
A friend
Cameron crumpled the note in his hand, his eyes darting around the room as his smile turned into laughter. Excellent. He was on the right track. And he had a pretty good idea who that trail would lead to.
CHAPTER 15
Midmorning on Saturday, Cameron unclipped another nut from his rack, jammed it into the crack and clipped in with a carabineer. He wedged his chalk covered fingers into the crack and adjusted his foot so he could stick the hold.
He was seventy-five feet above the forest floor and trying to keep his fear in check. Another hundred feet or so and he'd crest the ridge of the cliff and have a look at the amber and green valley below without a cascade of adrenaline pumping through his veins.
Right now the adrenaline was a torrent because the fear he'd confronted when he and Jessie learned to climb together had never left him. Could he manage it? Yes. Conquer it? Not even close. Even looking out a window from more than three stories up filled his stomach with stampeding butterflies. But the price was worth it. When he climbed, he felt Jessie and nothing else. Every other extraneous thought vanished as his concentration narrowed. And he didn't have to remember anything except how to stay alive.
His next move was a micro hold about two feet above his head. With a shove off the edge with his foot, he should be able to reach it with his fingertips. He stiffened his left hand in the crack, bending his fingers to create a human anchor, then released the wall with his right hand. Cameron plunged his hand into his chalk bag then returned to his hold; trying to ignore the burn in his arms and calves.
He took a breath and focused on the wall a quarter-inch in front of his nose.
The climb was listed as a 5.9 in Spectacular Northwest Climbs, but it seemed closer to a 5.10. The difficulty of finding decent holds increased the higher he got. Always have three points of contact; it was a fundamental of beginning rock climbing, but this route wasn't for beginners. And while Cameron wasn't a beginner, no one would describe him as advanced.
Squinting into the sun he saw his next hold and stretched out for it. Short by at least five inches. He reached the crux. The hardest part of the climb; the spot where the 5.9 rating came from. The only way to reach it was to shove off with his foot. His anchors would hold.
He was taking too long deliberating the next move. Momentum. Climb with momentum, few pauses. Just go!
Cold sweat broke out on his forehead.
Should he descend? No. He was almost halfway up and down-climbing would be harder than moving up. As his options pinged through his mind, Cameron looked down. A tactical error. Sweat seeped through the white chalk on his palms and fingers. Not good.
To think people free climbed this route without ropes. Insane. His right leg started bouncing, the panic inside pushing its way out.
Closing his eyes he sucked in a deep breath, then let it out slow. He laid his cheek against the cliff face and took another breath. Then another.
You want to live without me? You want to live with your memories vanishing? You want to try to live without a mind?
The thoughts flashed through him like they were spoken.
"Jessie?" Her name escaped his lips before he could stop it.
Join me. It would be simple.
Yes. It would be so easy. He could unknot himself from the rope—his toes the only thing keeping him on the cliff—then slowly lean back till the wind whistled past his ears, faster, faster, eyes closed, not knowing the moment of impact until . . .
Progress on finding the book was moving like a glacier, and he still had no gut feeling one way or another if it would turn out to be the answer to all his hopes or an illusion that would leave his soul even emptier than it felt right now.
He couldn't live with his mind slowly melting away like early winter snow.
He looked down again and his stomach knotted tighter, then reached toward his harness to undo