Chapter 29
TWENTY-NINE
The mountains hated him. Without a doubt. He shook his head at the rest of the fuselage from the crashed 208 Caravan in the bottom of the ravine and rubbed the pain in his ribs.
Scaling the rock face was the only way to it.
He sucked at climbing.
Even without being injured.
Every family trip where they’d gone climbing, he’d been the slowest, taking twice as long as his siblings to scale up. Didn’t matter what line they went. There was nothing about climbing he’d ever enjoyed.
“We found it.” Merritt trembled as she wrapped her arms around his waist and leaned into him.
“Yeah.” The word was hard to choke out through the numb, hollow feeling in his chest.
“I was really hoping we’d catch a break.”
She leaned further into him with a sigh. The cockpit was their only chance at radioing for help. The only chance to get Merritt to safety before her uncle could do any more harm.
And he wasn’t even going to try?
Heck, no.
He was a Rebel.
His dad didn’t raise no quitter.
Gritting his teeth, he pushed his shoulders back and kissed the top of Merritt’s head. “I’m going to climb down, and I’ll need your help.”
“What?” She jerked away, her eyes wide with fear.
“We need that radio.”
“We don’t even know if it works.” She wrapped her arms around herself.
“True. But if it works, we’re rescued today.” He peered over the edge of the ravine, swallowed at what had to be an eighty-foot drop, then with determination, he turned to his gear. “It’s worth finding out.”
“Not if you plummet to your death.” She dashed around him and stood in his path.
“Come on, Skeet.” He cupped her pale cheek, forcing confidence into his voice he didn’t feel. “What did I say yesterday about having a little faith in me?”
She grabbed his hand and held it to her. “I trust you’ll keep me safe, but we don’t even have the gear for you to go down.”
“We have a rope and sturdy trees.” He shrugged. “That’s all we need.”
He stepped into her and pecked her lips. When he went to move away, she fisted the front of his shirt in her hands and kissed him like he was going off to war or something.
Fire and desperation flared from her touch, scorching a path along his veins and into his core. He speared his hands into her hair, anchoring her to him, not that she needed any help with that.
The fear that had rooted in his gut when his plane went down bloomed into torment. Every moment they remained in the wild was the possibility he’d lose her.
Alaska didn’t care if they lived or died.
In fact, everything about the Brooks Range threatened their survival.
Getting to that radio meant Merritt lived.
So, he’d scale the mountain like a Dall sheep.
He loosened his hands and slowed the kiss. When he pulled away, he cupped the back of her neck, his thumbs stroking the soft skin of her throat.
“It’ll be easier if you help.”
She swallowed so hard he felt it against his thumbs. “Okay.”
“All you have to do is hold the rope to keep the tension.”
She nodded and bit her bottom lip. “I can do that.”
He quickly kissed her and winked. “Let’s get to it.”
He marched to the gear, snatching the rope from the pile and pushing away the wish for more gear. Wishing never changed outcomes.
Action did.
Tiikaan’s hands moved with practiced efficiency as he began fashioning a makeshift harness from the rope. The fibers bit into his skin as he looped the cord around his waist, the familiar motions doing little to calm the storm of anxiety brewing in his chest .
“What are you doing?” Merritt asked, her voice tight with worry.
“Creating a hasty harness. It’ll distribute my weight and give you a better anchor point for belaying.”
He wrapped the rope around his thighs, forming crude leg loops. The setup was far from ideal, but it would have to do. As he worked, he could feel Merritt’s eyes on him, her concern palpable in the tense silence.
Tying off the final knot, Tiikaan gave the harness an experimental tug. It held firm, and he allowed himself a small nod of satisfaction. It wasn’t pretty, but it would keep him from plummeting to his death—hopefully.
“Okay,” he said, turning to Merritt. “Now for the belay system.”
He moved to a sturdy-looking tree near the ravine’s edge, the rope trailing behind him like a lifeline. With deft movements, he secured one end of the rope to the tree’s base, using a figure-eight follow-through knot that would hold even under his full weight.
Next, he clipped a carabiner to the rope near the tree. The metallic click as he locked it into place seemed loud in the quiet forest.
“This will act as our belay device,” he explained to Merritt, who watched his every move with wide, attentive eyes. “It’ll create friction and give you more control over my descent.”
As he fed the free end of the rope through the carabiner, Tiikaan’s mind raced with all the ways this could go wrong. But he pushed those thoughts aside, focusing instead on the task at hand and the woman whose life depended on his success .
“Ready for your crash course in belaying?” he asked, forcing a smile to his lips.
Tiikaan turned to Merritt, hoping his expression concealed the apprehension racing through him. He held out the rope, his calloused hands steady despite the gravity of the situation.
“Okay, Skeeter, this is important.” He could hear his dad in his voice. “Your job is to keep this rope taut at all times. It’s my lifeline down there.”
Merritt nodded, her face pale but resolute as she gripped the rope. Tiikaan guided her hands into the proper position, his touch lingering for a moment longer than necessary.
“If you need to stop me, just pull down sharply on this side of the rope.” He demonstrated the motion. “It’ll create friction against the carabiner and halt my descent.”
He watched as Merritt practiced the movement, her brow furrowed in concentration. Pride swelled in his chest at her determination, even as fear gnawed at his insides.
“Remember, communication is key,” he continued. “I’ll call out to you, and I need you to respond. Got it?”
“Got it,” Merritt replied, her voice stronger than he expected.
Tiikaan took a deep breath, steeling himself for what was to come. He approached the edge of the ravine, the yawning chasm below seeming to mock his resolve.
“On belay?” he called out, following the familiar protocol his dad had drilled into them despite the makeshift nature of their setup .
“B-belay on,” Merritt responded, her shaking grip visibly tightening on the rope.
With one last glance at Merritt, Tiikaan began his descent. The first few steps were the hardest, his body protesting as he lowered himself over the edge. The rock face didn’t help him out any, offering few handholds and even fewer footholds.
“Lowering,” he called out, his voice echoing off the ravine walls.
As he rappelled down, Tiikaan focused on his breathing, trying to ignore the way his ribs screamed with each movement. The makeshift harness dug into his thighs as if emphasizing how precarious his position was.
“You’re doing great, Merritt,” he called up, more to reassure himself than her. “Just keep that rope steady.”
The descent felt agonizingly slow. Each foot gained a battle against gravity and his own limitations. Sweat beaded on his brow, stinging his eyes as he blinked it away. The cockpit of the wrecked plane grew larger below him, a tantalizing goal that seemed just out of reach.
Tiikaan’s muscles trembled with exertion as he continued his descent, the rock face scraping against his hands and knees. His ribs screamed at him to stop.
He was about three-quarters of the way down when he reached a smooth section of the cliff, devoid of any substantial handholds or footholds. His heart hammered in his chest as he pressed himself against the cold stone, searching desperately for any purchase he could use climbing back up.
But he couldn’t find any.
“Stopping,” he called up to Merritt, his voice tight with strain.
He closed his eyes, trying to calm his racing thoughts. He might get down there and see a line he could use to get back up. But if he got down there and the rock face truly was as smooth as it looked, he was screwed.
If Gunnar were here, he’d have scaled this cliff like it was nothing more than a ladder. His brother would probably already be on his way back up, radio in hand.
Heck, even his sister Sunny, petite as she was, would have found a way down by now. She’d always been the fearless one, tackling every challenge head-on with a grin and a quip.
Tiikaan’s chest tightened with a mixture of shame and frustration. Here he was, stuck on this godforsaken rock face, while his family—any of them—would have been out there saving the day. They were the heroes, the ones who always came through when it mattered most.
And what was he? A washed-up bush pilot who couldn’t even manage a simple climb to save the woman he loved.
He was supposed to be Merritt’s protector, her lifeline. Instead, he was the one who needed rescuing.
With a grunt of frustration, Tiikaan began to inch his way back up the cliff face. Each movement was agony, his muscles screaming in protest as he fought against gravity and his own limitations.
“Climbing,” he called out, hating the defeat in his voice.
As he ascended, nauseating shame coursed through him .
He’d failed.
Failed Merritt, failed himself, failed to live up to the Rebel family name. The climb back up seemed to stretch on forever, each reach for a handhold a scream of his shortcomings.
“Tiikaan.” Suddenly, Merritt’s voice cut through his spiral of self-pity.
He paused, looking up toward her voice. “Yeah?”
There was a beat of silence, then a trembling, “Hey, bear.”
Cold fear rushed through Tiikaan’s veins, turning his blood to ice. The world seemed to tilt on its axis as the implications of those two simple words hit him.
Merritt was in danger.
And he was too far away to help.
“Merritt?” He scrambled upward, frantic now, his own safety forgotten.
Her scream pierced the air, a sound that sliced through him like a knife, followed by the sickening sensation of the rope going slack. His breath whooshed from his lungs, the sudden slack nearly causing him to lose his footing.
He lunged for a handhold, a desperate scramble to regain his balance as his feet swung out over the abyss. Fingers skimming the rocks, Tiikaan plummeted, his hands desperately grasping for any hold on the rock face as the ground rushed up to meet him.