Page 48 of Fight

Could I shimmy down the side of the ledge somehow?

I creep toward the edge of the path on my hands and knees. My depth perception isn’t one hundred percent, but peering over the side, it’s gotta be twenty or thirty feet. I search for hand holds or tree roots to use to no avail. Surviving the fall is possible, but I’ll be useless to move. I shake the negative image of my splattered body on the trail below.

Retreating to the rock pile, there’s a smaller boulder, roughly the size of the small kitchen table in my apartment, next to the base of the larger one. I shakily hoist myself to the top and feel around the massive one blocking the path. It’s no use. A slab hangs over the taller one like a roof overhang. Even if I could scramble up the almost-vertical side of the big boulder, I’d haveno way to get above the slab. If I was an expert rock climber, I might have a chance, but I’m a novice with a head injury.

Can’t go around it. Can’t go over it.

There’s a space behind the table-sized stone, like a mini cave entrance. Could I fit in there? I have no clue how stable that rock is, it could come loose and crush me. How do I die?Let me count the ways…

I carefully lower myself back to the ground and crouch down on all fours to inspect the tunnel created by some of the large boulders.

“Oh my God.”

Splinters of daylight greet me from the other side, and there’s a narrow channel between the rocks and the mountain. It doesn’t even look that deep. Maybe twelve feet? Hard to tell. The passage appears to get smaller before it gets bigger, so I’d have to crawl on my belly, and even then, it would be tight. I could end up in one of those situations where I have to cut off an arm to escape. Like a fox gnawing off its own leg.

At least there’s enough room for me to fit behind the smaller boulder to get out of the wind. I crane my neck to peer into the confined space again. I’m confident I could push through the rocks at the opposite end to clear an opening if I could just get to that side. I can already imagine the clack they would make as I knocked them away. I reach into the tunnel, then yank my arm back.

“Don’t be an idiot, Prescott. This boulder isn’t going anywhere.”

Yeah, how many people said the same thing about this exact rock when it sat at the top of this mountain?

I drop to my elbows and study the passageway once more. I can see to the other side, but could I make it? It’s challenging to decipher whether it’s a perspective thing or an error in my depth perception. If I make it through, I should be able to descend the trail, assuming I don’t run into another obstacle like this one.

If I get stuck or the shaft collapses as I’m trying to pass under… Well, then I guess I’ll become the Green Boots of Quell’s Peak and stay frozen until spring or until scavengers burrow through and rip my rotting limbs off.That’s pleasant.It’s not the worst way to die. I mean, how many people can say they’ve died between a boulder and a mountain? I suppose nobody can, they’re all dead.That’s the spirit!

It’s this or die from exposure. Playing will it-won’t it is a waste of time I don’t have. If I don’t survive this, at least I’ll have tried.

Lowering to my belly, I wiggle into the gap. “Go for a hike, Scottie! Claim your independence… The world is your oyster!” I grunt, mocking myself. “How’s all this freedom, babe? Feeling liberated yet?” My shoulders bunch as I duck my head and try to squeeze between two rocks. I drag myself in deeper and hear a loud tear—my coat. The wind whistles through the hole and kicks up the dust, throwing it into my eyes.

“I hate this mountain. Zero out of five stars… Boulders inconveniently placed,” I groan. “Understaffed… Amenities are lacking…” I inch farther. “Gift shop sucks…” Another inch. “Save yourself the time and crawl through a ditch culvert.”

It’s hard to take a breath, as there’s not enough room for my ribs to expand. Resting, I let my breathing regulate to something more relaxed. I know little about spelunking, but I know enough to understand panicking is bad.

Once I’m ready, I try to wiggle forward, but it’s like I can’t get the leverage to propel myself. With my arms tucked up like a T-Rex, there’s nowhere to go, but there’s also not enough room to stretch in front of me. I try to wiggle backward, but can’t.Stay calm.You’re not stuck, you just need to relax your muscles. Exhaling, I close my eyes and focus on making my body loose. But I’m freezing, and every limb feels rigid. With crawling fingers, one of my hands slides down. Bit by bit, I wriggle my other arm to stretch above my head. I have to get an arm outfrom under me, but it’s against a sharp edge. I pause and reassess, attempting to rotate my shoulders. It doesn’t work. If I get my elbow caught ahead of me, I’ll have even less body heat. I’m tired.

With weakened, stiff muscles, my body is unable to move as easily as before.

It’s so cold.

My hands hurt. I ball them into fists, and they throb as the impending frostbite sets in. I kick my feet, seeking purchase on anything to help squirm in any direction. It’s futile. The more I fight to free myself, the less room I have. With each unsuccessful motion, the thought of dying here is easier to accept. Odds are I won’t make it. Wiggling again, I try to rotate. I’m not ready to give up, but it takes so much effort to move half an inch.Am I even moving at all?

My eyes are heavy. Tilting my head slightly, I catch sight of the end of the narrow channel. It can’t be more than six feet away, but it might as well be six miles, because this tunnel gets smaller before it gets bigger, and I’m… I’mtrapped. Neither rock will budge. A tear rolls over my temple as a hard lump forms in my throat. My car is here. Someone will find my body.

Another tear falls and I sniffle, sucking the freezing air into my lungs. I close my eyes and blow out a narrow current of air through my lips. It’s not looking good.

I’m familiar with the human body—what it’s capable of and what it isn’t. Freezing to death isn’t the worst way to die. In fact, it’s pretty favorable. My fingers and toes ache now, but eventually, I’ll lose all sense of pain. After that, my heart will draw blood from hands and feet, which will create a temporary feeling of warmth. As my internal temperature plummets, I’ll grow drowsy. It will be gentle, like I’m falling asleep. When I’m unconscious, my organs will fail one-by-one until I go into cardiac arrest.

It’s simple, really.

This tunnel isn’t my escape, it’s my grave. I wrestle to turn my body inward, but the strength isn’t there. I’m too tired. Tranquil acquiescence washes over me, and I rest my head on my shoulder, closing my eyes.

This isn’t how I saw today going. A rescue mission is not a wise idea. In fact, it’s flat out fucking foolish, but there’s a person up there who needs help. It doesn’t matter that it’s Scottie—though the fact that it is gives me one more reason to be pissed at her. I can’t believe she’d be so foolhardy. She’s a smart woman, smarter than this.

At the six-mile mark, I stop to rest. Digging my crampons out of my bag, I slip them over my hiking boots and pull ski goggles over my eyes to keep the windburn at bay. After zipping my bag, I chug some water and keep going. I’m used to pushing my body to the absolute limit during fire season, but this storm is turning ugly. At a certain point, my self-preservation will kick in and I’ll need to make the decision to turn around. I’ve done several alpine climbs over the United States. I love traversing over the spine of a mountain and making the linkup to the next peak, but this storm is making conditions brutal.

How have I not run into her yet?What if I never do? She could have lost the trail somewhere along the way, and we could be ten miles away from each other. Is she taking shelter? I think back to earlier, and she didn’t appear to have gear for anovernight trip. This route is set up for day hikes, out and back. She should beback.

I check my watch. It will be dark in a few hours. I’m running on pure adrenaline, which has allowed me to move at a pretty good clip. I’ll give her one more hour, then I’ll have to turn around. I tuck my water into my bag and keep going. I’ve got to cover as much ground as I can before dark, or I won’t have a chance.