Chapter 57.
Mount Washington
It is the most horrible moment of Wyatt Jordan’s life.
Just like that, Wyatt’s helpless to stop what was happening inches away from him before it was too late, his friend gone.
Not just a friend.
Someone who had become Wyatt’s hero, starting that day in the icy water of Antarctica.
Reg just fell.
The boy, Rupert, had told him the night after the death of Luca Tommasi that he’d never known anyone who had died. His parents were alive. His grandparents were alive. So were all his aunts and uncles. Rupert felt like Luca had been the first death in his family.
Wyatt felt the same way about Reg.
Reg just fell.
He felt he had come to know Reg Drummond after everything they had been through together. Had known him and respected him and loved everything about him.
He had died in front of Wyatt’s eyes.
Wyatt can’t make himself look down again.
If he does, he will see Reg falling.
Still trying to process what had just happened, he’s just as afraid to look up to where he knows Tipton and Hannah are on the ledge.
Up at the peak.
Wyatt just presses himself to the wall behind him and squeezes his eyes shut, and then he begins to cry when he opens them.
Begins to sob.
And can’t stop himself.
Doesn’t even try to stop himself.
Wyatt knows it could just as easily have been him falling off what feels like the top of the world, and that thought hits him hard.
But he’s not thinking about that.
He’s thinking about a good and kind and brave man like Reg Drummond, who had looked out for everybody except himself, even in the final moments of his life.
Reg.
Gone.
Wyatt is crying so hard it’s nearly impossible for him to get any of the cold air up here into his lungs.
Feels he might pass out.
Hang on, boy.
Above him, Hannah is crying too—silent tears ripped sideways by wind. Tipton is on his knees at the edge, staring down like he can force gravity to reverse if he stares hard enough.
Then Tipton moves.
He’s fast again. Purposeful.
He yanks his earpiece out and throws it so hard it bounces and disappears into nothing. Then he crawls back from the edge, face wrecked, and reaches for Wyatt.
Tipton yells something from up above.
Wyatt can’t make it out over the sound of the wind and the terrible sounds coming out of him.
“Nobody’s dying up here today,” Reg Drummond had said.
Now Reg was gone.
Finally, like it’s one more arduous part of the climb, Wyatt gets his breathing under control.
I’m not dying up here, he tells himself.
Tipton’s voice is hoarse. “Give me your hand.”
Wyatt doesn’t move.
Hannah leans over, voice trembling. “Wyatt. Please.”
Wyatt forces himself to breathe.
He climbs the last feet on pure hate and grief. He carefully pushes himself off the rock wall, turns to face it, grabs for some schist rock just above him.
Begins moving again, even if it’s only a few inches at a time. He tells himself he’s going to finish this climb, no matter what.
For Reg.
Eventually he allows himself a look up, just to see how close the ledge is.
He can see Hannah leaning over, Tipton holding on to her from behind, like they’re a two-person human chain.
When Wyatt is close enough, Hannah reaches down with her hand.
Hannah’s hand locks around his wrist, surprisingly strong. She hauls him up with everything she has.
When Wyatt is finally on the summit ledge, he scrambles away from the edge and collapses, chest heaving.
Tipton is still staring down.
He doesn’t look at him. “I tried,” Tipton says. It’s the first time Wyatt has ever heard him sound human.
Hannah’s voice is small. “Ant . . .”
Tipton finally looks at them both.
And what’s in his eyes isn’t the smug cruelty.
“He’s dead,” Wyatt whispers.
Tipton swallows hard. “Yes.”
Wyatt’s mouth opens, but nothing comes out.
Hannah moves closer to Wyatt and puts a hand on his shoulder, steadying him. Like she’s steadying herself too.
Wyatt looks down once—just once—because he has to.
He sees only distance and cloud and rock and knowledge.
His hero is gone.
He presses his fist to his mouth, voice breaking.
“Made it, Reg,” he says.