Chapter 22 – Jamie
22
JAMIE
S amuel laughs as Joel grips the ropes and bounces the bridge, hard.
It swings wildly, and I curse, holding on tightly as my feet struggle to stay connected.
“Knock it off!” I yell, praying that they’ll move on now that they’ve had their fun. I keep my knees loose to absorb as much of the movement as possible, but with the wind picking up and being trapped on this thing, it’s making me uncomfortable.
More than uncomfortable, I’m terrified.
I remain sideways, keeping both men standing at each end of the bridge in my peripheral vision. I can’t decide whether I’m better off going forward or back. Maybe Joel is just humouring his friend and will let me off, but from the way they’re both laughing at my predicament, I wouldn’t bet on it.
“What do you want, Samuel?” I shout, not even sure he’s heard me with my voice being carried away in the wind. The sunlight vanishes as thick, grey clouds cover the sky. The air turns chilly as heavy drops of rain continue to splash my hands and face. “Do you want me to quit, is that it?”
Samuel steps closer to the edge of the canyon, arms folded across his thick chest. “Yes.”
“Done,” I agree readily. Dean’s right. We’re placing our hopes on Wyatt winning anyway. Staying in the competition isn’t worth dying for.
But the way Samuel glares at me with a visceral hatred, and a smug grin on his face, I don’t think that’s all that he wants. “And your brother.”
Fuck. He has no idea what he’s asking me to give up. I readjust my grip, the rope biting into my cold hands where I cling on for dear life and try to think.
“So, I convince Wyatt we’re not cut out for this, and that wiping the floor with you won’t be as satisfying as it sounds, and then what? If you stay here much longer, you’re going to be out anyway, so it won’t make any difference.”
Samuel shrugs, but I notice how his eyes dart to his wrist, checking his time quickly. “Reynolds is a ruthless man. He’ll appreciate me taking one for the team. Might even let me stay on.”
He thinks Dean is going to reward him for getting rid of us.
Samuel nods over at Joel. “Judging by how fast he left when you arrived at dinner last night, deep down, he knows it’s a disgrace to allow someone like you in. He’s just too smart to admit that in front of Steel.”
I groan, scarcely believing the crap this guy has convinced himself of. Does he really think Dean is afraid of voicing his opinion? Has he met the man?
“If Wyatt and I are so useless, leave us be. Like Dean said, we’ll never make it through anyway.”
It’s Joel’s turn to laugh. “You’re up to something, rogue. We’ve been watching you snoop around, asking questions. We’re protecting everyone here.”
With a snarl, he adds, “You agree to leave and take your freak of a brother with you too, or it won’t just be a warning next time.”
Joel bounces the ropes again for good measure, and my foot slips, sending me flailing to get my feet onto the rope again. I’m on the verge of a panic attack, but they think this is hilarious.
“Fine, I’ll convince him pack life isn’t for us. We’ll be gone by morning.” Halfway across a rope bridge, hanging over a dizzyingly deep canyon in the middle of nowhere with a storm closing in, I’d agree to anything right now just to get back on solid ground.
Samuel narrows his eyes, trying to gauge how likely it is that I’m just placating him.
I watch as his features settle. He’s made his decision. When he nods, Joel steps back from the edge, releasing the rope from his hand. When it looks like he’s ready to leave, I almost cry with relief. But that’s going to have to wait until I’m on solid ground.
If I didn’t have a fear of heights before, I definitely do now.
Using the back of my arm to wipe the water from my eyes, I stare at Samuel, willing him to get moving so I can get off this bridge. Except he has no intention of letting me off so easily. With a vicious grin, Samuel reaches forward, eyes locked on mine and jerks the ropes one last time. With one hand off the bridge, I wobble, my foot sliding off. Shooting out my hand, I manage to steady myself, but my heart is pounding.
This idiot is going to get someone killed.
“I’m giving you what you want. Let me off,” I call, my voice steady and calm, despite what’s going on inside me. I need to get off this fucking rope.
“Fine, come on then.” Samuel beckons for Joel to come across and follow him, but as soon as Joel adds his considerable weight to mine, the rope groans and creaks.
“Get off it!” I yell, and Joel does as I say, leaping back onto the cliff’s edge. I freeze, waiting to see if it’s going to hold. I close my eyes and inch along, trying not to bounce or jostle the fraying rope any more than necessary, and yet knowing that every passing second could be crucial to getting through to the next round. Or getting across alive.
I need to keep moving. They’re holding me up.
Samuel’s eyes are wide and shifty. He wasn’t expecting their antics to actually damage the bridge. Glancing over his shoulder, he checks for anyone watching, and then over to Joel who’s waiting for his turn with a concerned expression.
In the distance, the sky lights up, and the atmosphere crackles with electricity. The weather is going to get worse, way worse.
“Help me, you asshole,” I cry out as Samuel takes a couple of steps back and holds his arms out to the sides, laughing like a maniac in the rain.
His eyes are wild as he tips his head back and lets the water pour down his face. “I don’t think we’re going to make it back in time.” He could hold the bridge steady instead of running away, which it looks like he’s about to do.
“Damn it Samuel, what’s wrong with you?” Gritting my teeth, I inch along, focussing on nothing but making some progress, no matter how small.
“Sorry, Rogue. Doesn’t look like you’re going to make the cut,” Samuel shouts over the howling wind. His fingers are back on the ropes as it sways back and forth, almost violently now, but instead of helping, he’s picking at the frayed fibres.
“Fuck,” I hiss, picking up the pace now. He’s lost his fucking mind. The river raging below rolls and churns, white foam cresting the waves as the volume of water flowing down from the hills converge to swell it well above normal levels.
If I end up in that, I’m dead.
A quick glance back tells me nobody else has reached the bridge, and Joel’s gone. Has the weather put them off? Is he turning people back?
Whatever the reason, it doesn’t look like there’s help coming.
Samuel pulls a knife from the pocket of his utility shorts. Glinting in the light, it looks sharp. When he presses it to the torn strands of rope and more pieces sheer away, my stomach plummets. He can’t be serious.
“That’s not fucking funny,” I say. “You’ve made your point. Put the knife down. I won’t say a word. I'll pack up and leave. Hell, I'll run straight to the border from here.”
Lifting one hand to show I’m surrendering; I wait to see what he’s going to do. I might want to find out more about Dean and my mother, but I can’t do that if I drown at the bottom of this river. Nothing in this place is worth dying for.
When Samuel’s lips curl up in a wicked smirk, I know I’m fucked. As he saws the beige fibres aggressively, I push out a mind-link to Wyatt as hard as I can, but I know he’s already too far away to hear.
I stop staring in disbelief at what he’s doing and shuffle as fast as I can, back toward the far side. Blinded by driving rain and with the wind lashing my hair across my face, I misstep, my ankle sliding painfully along the rope, before I manage to pull myself back up. I’m almost there, nearly at the other side, when I make the mistake of looking back to where Samuel stands with a disgustingly pleased smile on his face.
The snap begins with a few sharp pings, followed by a crack so loud it sounds like a gunshot. The tension in the rope vanishes under my fingers, and the support beneath my feet disappears.
I scream as I fall. Wrapping my arm around the rope, I hang on for dear life as I plummet, dropping fast until the rope snaps tight, still connected at one end. It jerks my arm painfully, and then I’m swinging toward the jagged canyon wall at terrifying speed.
Bracing myself, I twist my body, drawing up my legs to protect myself as much as I can from the brunt of the impact but my back slams into the jagged cliff wall. The wind is knocked from my lungs, and my grasp loosens. I slip a few inches, the rope burning my palm, before I grip on tightly once more, blinking hard against the stabbing pain in the back of my head.
Samuel looks over the edge, unhappy to see I haven’t fallen into the raging river below. “You bitch!”
Looking furious at first, and then worried, he backs away before turning and bolting into the trees. I keep peering up, expecting to see Joel appear above me to finish the job, but there’s no sign of him.
Blood pours down my face from a cut to my forehead, blinding me. Shaking my head to clear my foggy brain, I spot a small ledge over to one side. I go to raise my other arm, to drag myself over to it, but nothing happens. I can’t lift it. I’m stuck here, swinging aimlessly, my raw hand growing more and more tired by the second.
Fighting hard against the urge to pass out, I blink away the blood and the spots dancing in front of my eyes and wrap my feet around the rope, pushing my body up as high as I can get, taking as much of my weight off my one good arm as I can. I can’t let go of the rope though; with only one hand, just a tiny wobble will send me backward into the canyon.
So, I swing, swaying from side to side, trying to get enough momentum to carry me close to the ledge before it snaps, and I plummet to my death in the canyon below.
With one last push, I gain another few inches, as close as I’m going to get, and launch myself toward it.
Landing awkwardly, I cry out at the pain in my dislocated shoulder as I roll onto my side, away from the dangerous edge. Afraid of sliding off, I bury the fingers of my good hand in the dirt and claw my way further onto my precarious perch.
“Thank fuck.” I pant, my nose pressed to the dirt, eyes shut as I let a wave of nausea wash over me.
Glancing nervously over my shoulder, there’s no sign of Samuel on the far side. I have no idea what he might be planning, but the only saving grace is that you’d have to be certifiable to climb down to where I am, especially in this weather.
He’ll either continue on and act like nothing happened, hoping I fall into the water below, or he’ll circle back and wait up top for me. Looking at my useless limb dangling by my side, I curse.
Until someone realises I’m missing, I’m probably in the safest place I can be. Up there, I won’t be able to defend myself.
Resting my palm against the canyon wall to steady myself, I try not to scream in pain as I reposition, resting my back against the steep edge to get as much shelter as I can from the savage weather.
“I can’t get a good foothold…” I mumble to myself, cursing at the slightly sloping ledge as my fingers slip on the rocks and loose mud. It’s a constant battle not to slide forward.
I force my legs to straighten slowly, thighs burning, and wedge my heels against a rock and gnarled root as best I can. Resting my arm across my lap, I stare out at the dark sky and the sheets of rain, picturing all the wolves on the course taking cover from the same storm. Nobody will be shocked when I don’t make it back by cut off. If this weather continues, they might not even know I’m in trouble until daylight, assuming I found shelter out of the course until it passes.
Except for Wyatt. He’ll know.
But as my ass slides forward and I have to shove myself back against the cliff face, I wonder whether it’ll be soon enough.