Chapter 12 Carter
CARTER
My hands won’t stop shaking.
I’m crouched at the edge of the hole, staring down at the jagged opening where Rhi disappeared, and my entire body is vibrating with adrenaline and terror.
One second, she was there—laughing, chasing after that stupid rat thing, looking happier than I’ve ever seen her.
The next second, she was just gone.
The scream is still echoing in my ears.
Even covered in snow, cheeks raw from the cold, she’s still the most striking thing I’ve ever seen—and I swear I’d burn the whole forest down before letting anything happen to her.
“I’m right here!” I call down, forcing my voice to stay steady even though I feel like I’m going to throw up. “I’m just grabbing my phone. I need to call for help, but I’m not leaving. I’m ten feet away, and I’m talking to you the whole time. Okay?”
“Okay.” Her voice floats up, so small and broken it makes my chest ache. “Okay.”
I move fast, yanking my pack open with shaking fingers. Phone. Where the fuck is my phone?
Dominic would already have it out. Dominic would have been prepared.
No. Stop. Not helpful.
“Talk to me,” Rhi calls up, and there’s panic threading through every word. “Please, just keep talking.”
“I’m here.” I find my phone, pull it out. The screen is cracked—when did that happen?—but it lights up. “I’ve got my phone. Fuck, one bar—”
One bar. That’s all I’ve got. One single bar of signal in this entire goddamn wilderness.
It might not be enough.
It has to be enough.
“Okay, okay, that’s enough,” I say, more to myself than to her.
My thumb hovers over the screen. Who do I call?
911? They’ll dispatch from the nearest town, which is—what, an hour away?
Two hours? And what do I even tell them?
We’re somewhere in the mountains, I don’t have exact coordinates, Rhi’s hurt and trapped and—
Dominic would know the protocol. Dominic volunteered as an EMT that summer. He’d know exactly what to do, exactly who to call, exactly how to—
“I’m calling someone who can help,” I say, and my voice is steadier than I feel. “My dad. He’s going to tell me what to do.”
“Your dad?”
“He’s been a firefighter for thirty years. He’s finished so many rescue situations. He’ll know what to do.”
My finger is already moving, finding Dad’s contact. I haven’t called him in a while. We used to talk all the time.
My hands are shaking so badly I can barely hold the phone. Dad answers on the second ring and the relief is so intense I almost start crying.
“Carter?”
“Dad. Dad, I need help.” My voice cracks.
I hear the immediate shift in his tone—from surprised to focused in half a second. No questions about Christmas, no hurt in his voice, just rock solid calm.
“Talk to me, son. What’s happening?”
“Rhi—my research partner—she fell.” I’m moving back to the edge of the hole as I talk, needing to see her, needing to know she’s still conscious.
“Through snow cover into some kind of cave or hole or something. She’s maybe eight or ten feet down.
I can see her, but I can’t reach her. She’s hurt—” I talk quietly so Rhi can’t hear the panic in my voice.
I can see her down there, a small figure in the darkness, her face turned up toward the light. There’s blood on her cheek from where she scraped against the rock.
“She’s panicking, Dad. She’s really panicking and I don’t know if I should call rescue but we’re so remote and the signal is shit and I only have one bar and—”
Dominic wouldn’t be panicking. Dominic would have already figured this out. Dominic would have prevented this from happening in the first place because he would have stopped her from going off trail, would have been paying better attention, would have—
“Carter. Breathe.”
Dad’s voice cuts through the spiral, anchoring me.
“You did the right thing calling me. We’re going to figure this out together. Are you safe where you are?”
I look around. The ground under my feet is solid rock, covered in a thinner layer of snow. The hole Rhi fell through is maybe three feet across, the edges unstable but not actively collapsing.
“Yeah, I’m—yeah.”
“Good. And she’s conscious? Talking to you? Did she hit her head?”
“Rhi! Did you hit your head?”
“No, I just scraped it,” she calls up.
“Yeah, she’s conscious. No hit to the head but, dad, she’s scared. Really scared.” I can hear her breathing from down there, too fast, too shallow. She’s hyperventilating. “She’s having a panic attack or something, I think—”
“That’s normal. You’re going to help her. You hear me? You’re going to get her out.”
But I don’t know how. I’m going to fuck this up, I’m going to—
“Alright.” He exhales. “Good. That’s good. Now, listen to me carefully, Carter, because this is important. First rule of rescue—”
“—we never make a second victim,” I finish automatically. He drilled that into us when we were kids.
“Exactly. You don’t go in after her. You stay topside where it’s stable.”
“But Dad—” The urge to move, to do something, is clawing at me. “She’s hurt. What if—”
“Carter.” His voice sharpens just enough to cut through the panic. “You are more help up there than down a hole. You understand me? You go down, that snow shifts, and now I’ve got two people trapped instead of one.”
I press a hand to my forehead. He’s right. He’s always right.
I can still see Rhi’s face tilted toward the light, small and scared and trying to be brave.
“I’m going to walk you through this, step by step. You’re not alone, son. I’m right here with you.”
The phone crackles, and I watch in horror as the signal bar flickers.
“Shit. Dad, can you hear—”
“I’m still here. Carter, listen to me. First thing, you need to assess the space. Can you see the bottom? Is there standing water? Any obvious hazards?”
I lean over the edge, trying to see more clearly. The opening is irregular, and the cave below is dim, but I can make out details.
“Dry, I think. Rock walls, looks like it might be an old mining shaft that collapsed. Rhi’s sitting in the middle, her leg is—something’s wrong with her leg. She’s holding it.”
“My ankle,” Rhi calls up weakly. “I think I twisted it. Or broke it. I don’t know.”
“Okay. She’s lucid, that’s good. Any other trauma? She scraped her head, anything else?”
“Rhi, have you hurt anything else?”
“I—I don’t think so? My ribs hurt. And my ankle. But I don’t think anything else is hurt.”
“She doesn’t think so,” I say. “Okay, so what do I do?”
“How far is the nearest town?”
“Maybe an hour’s drive, two in the snow.”
“Alright, then calling for help might take time. Let’s see if you can get her out first, safely. You’ve got rope? Straps? Anything that can take her weight?”
I look at my pack. “We’ve got the cargo tie-down straps from the truck. Paracord. A towing cable.”
“That’ll do. You’re going to make a makeshift harness and haul line. Nothing fancy—just strong knots, slow movements. Anchor to a tree or rock that won’t move an inch.”
When I don’t reply, he says, “All will be well, Carter. You have what you need.”
Do I? Because I don’t feel like I have what I need. I feel like I’m eighteen years old and Dominic’s dead and everyone’s looking at me to be the strong one, the capable one, and I’m not. I’m not him. I’ll never be him.
“Carter? Are you there?” Rhi’s voice drifts up, thin and scared. “Carter, please—”
“It’s okay, Rhi!” I call down, moving back to the edge so she can see me. “I’m going to get you out!”
Her face crumples. She trusts me. She’s down there, hurt and terrified, and she’s trusting me to save her.
I can’t let her down.
I won’t.
If anything happens to her… I didn’t even tell her.
Didn’t tell her she makes me want to be awake for the first time in a long time. I’ve been sleepwalking. Using grief as an excuse. As a shield.
Dom wouldn’t want this.
Dom would tell me to get my shit together and live.
I’m not losing her. Not today.
“She’s conscious, she can help you by pushing off the wall a little when you lift. If you feel the ground shift, you stop immediately. Understand?”
“Yeah. Yeah, I understand.”
“Good man.” His voice softens. “And if that doesn’t work, or the terrain starts giving way, you back off and call 911. Even if you lose signal, stay put—dispatch can triangulate the last ping. You hear me?”
“I hear you.”
There’s a pause. “You’ve got this, Carter. I’m proud of you, son.”
My eyes burn. “Thanks, Dad.”
“Now go save that girl. I’ll get off the line to save your battery. Call me back if you need me. I’m right here, ok?”
“Ok.”
The line goes dead.
I stare at the phone for a second, then shove it into my pocket and move.
No more time for doubt. No more wishing Dominic were here instead.
Rhi needs me.
“Rhi!” I call down. “I’m staying up here, okay? My dad has walked me through it. I’m going to get a strap down to you and haul you up.”
“Okay,” she calls, voice shaky but hopeful. “Okay.”
I grab the tow strap from the truck, knot it to the paracord, and tie the other end around the pine’s trunk. My hands are trembling, but I test the tension—it holds. Solid.
“Alright,” I shout. “I’m lowering it now. You’re going to loop it under your arms, right below your shoulders, okay?”
“Okay.” Her voice echoes from below. “I—I think I’ve got it.”
“Good. Tighten it. I’m going to pull on three.”
I brace my feet, wrap the rope around my forearm for leverage. “One… two… three!”
The line goes taut. She groans but the strap holds. Inch by inch, I haul, legs straining, every muscle burning. Snow and dust cascade down, but the ground stays firm.
“Almost there, Rhi. You’re doing great.”
I haul her up the last few feet, grab her wrist, and PULL until she’s sprawled across the snow beside me.
Safe. Out. ALIVE.
We lie there, gasping, shaking.
Then I’m rolling over, pulling her into my arms, crushing her against my chest so hard she probably can’t breathe, but I can’t let go, I can’t— “You’re okay,” I’m saying into her hair, and my voice is wrecked. “You’re okay. I’ve got you.”
“You did it.” Her voice is muffled against my jacket. “Carter, you did it.”
My hands are shaking. I’m shaking.
My whole body is shaking because I almost lost her.
I almost fucking lost her.
She pulls back just enough to look at me, and her eyes are wet, and there’s dirt on her face and blood on her cheek, and she’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. “You saved me,” she whispers.
“I couldn’t—” My voice breaks. “I couldn’t lose you.” Not you too.
“You didn’t. I’m here. I’m right here.”