Love Not at First Sight by Sarah Ready

9

Veronica

I take a deep breath.I’ve done climbing techniques similar to this before. It’s a moderate-width opening. I feel the walls on either side of the crevice. It’s dry, rough-textured and solid.

“I’m going first,” I say.

I feel Sam tense. He’s going to argue with me. I’ve noticed he likes to be in front in case there’s any danger. If someone’s going to fall or have rock collapse on them, he’d rather it be him. I touch his arm and he stills.

“I’ve got this. We don’t know how narrow it’ll get or if it’s stable. I’m smaller. I can have us turn around if it gets too dangerous.”

“Makes sense,” he says, but I can tell he doesn’t like it.

“Have you climbed before?” I ask.

“Indoor walls,” he says. “I’ve been doing them a couple years now.”

I smile and squeeze his arm. “Look at you. When we get out of here, I’m going to take you to my favorite climbs. The Gunks, the Red River Gorge. You’ll love climbing outdoors. We could go up to the Adirondacks, take a tent, sleeping bags…” I stop. “On second thought, when we get out of here, I’d like food, a shower, and a bed. Climbing can wait.”

“I’d love to,” he says.

“The climbing or the shower and the bed?”

“Any of it.”

I reach up and touch his face. I trace his mouth and feel his smile.

Then I pull away and concentrate on the climb, getting us across the pit alive and hopefully to the way out. “We’re going to use counterforce to keep us wedged between the walls. We’ll start with our back flat against the wall on the right side. Put your right hand on the opposite wall, as high as your chest, and put your left hand behind you, lower than your back, and then press against it, out and down. Hard.”

“Got it,” he says.

“Your legs, it depends on your size. I’m probably going to have my right leg bent with my toes pressed into the wall and my left leg bent and my foot flat against the right wall.”

“Makes sense. The counterforce is between your hands and legs on the opposite walls?”

“Exactly. You might have to use your hands and knees, you’re at least half a foot taller than me. But keep your arms on opposite walls. As long as we do that and keep pressing, we should be okay.”

“Alright.”

Before I can move into the crack, he pulls me to him and sets a hard kiss on my mouth. His hands curl around my arms and his grip bites into me. The kiss is fierce and quick.

“For luck,” he says.

I step to the ledge and work myself into the crack. I do just as I planned and within seconds I’m suspended over a forty-four-foot drop. My back presses to the cold hard rock and my hands and feet shove against it and down. I inch myself forward, scraping along the rough rock. It’s solid, I don’t feel any weak spots in the limestone.

“Your turn,” I say. I’ve moved in enough that he can climb up behind me.

I shimmy forward and listen as the rocks scrape against his shoes and shorts.

“I’m in,” he says. His voice is strained.

I concentrate on keeping the counterpressure between my limbs. There’s no rope to catch me if I fall. I shift my hand then my foot, my next hand, then my opposite foot. The cut on my palm from the crawl starts to burn. I feel wetness and realize that it’s bleeding again. The blood makes the rock slick and my hand shakes against the wall.

“You alright?” Sam asks.

“Good. I’m good,” I say. This maneuver is strenuous even when you’re rested. My legs start to shake. I press my opposite leg harder, then quickly drop my hand to my shirt and wipe the blood off. I hiss at the sting.

We’ve gone at least ten feet. I can’t see in front of me to know whether we’re close to the end of the crack. I can’t see anything at all. Sam’s watch light has gone off and he’s not in a position to turn it back on.

I shift my back and inch my way forward. My right foot jams forward, moving faster than I intended. Rock from the wall comes loose and clatters to the bottom of the pit. My limbs shake and sweat trickles down into my eyes.

I wipe my hand again. The blood oozing out makes it hard to keep my hand flat against the rock.

Sam swears. I hear rocks smash against the bottom of the pit.

“Okay?”

“Hit a loose spot.”

My heart thuds in my chest, ramming against my ribs. My legs and arms burn with the exertion. I concentrate on moving forward. Shift, slide, press, move. Shift, slide, press, move. Inch forward. Don’t fall. Wipe the blood. Shift, slide, press, move.

Sam’s moving faster than me. He’s caught up to me. I feel his hand brush against mine as he slides forward. His breath is harsh and loud.

“Hey you,” I say. My limbs shake.

“Fancy meeting you here,” he says.

I inch forward. Press, slide. Wipe the blood.

“Whatcha doing?” he asks in a light, playful voice. He’s trying to cut the tension.

“Oh,” I grunt, “just hanging out.”

“Come here often?” he asks.

“Only on Tuesdays,” I say.

“And Sundays. It’s Sunday.”

“Fancy that.”

He laughs. “Just hanging out. Tuesdays and Sundays.”

I smile.

Suddenly, my bloody hand slips, to compensate I jam my foot harder against the wall. But the rock’s loose. It crumbles away and my back slides down the wall. I start to fall.

“Sam!”

The rock tears at my back. My hand claws at the rock. My feet slip. My stomach rises up and this is it, I’m…

“Got you.”

Sam catches me. He grabs my arm. Levers himself against the wall and lifts me back up into the crack. I wedge my feet into the wall and wipe my bloody hand on my shirt. Press my shaking hands into the walls. I’m cold and sweating. I think I’m going to be sick. The sound of my pounding heart fills my ears. It’s dark. It’s too dark. I’m shaking. My limbs can’t hold on.

“We’ve got to quit meeting like this,” Sam says. He presses his thigh against mine. “You falling. Me catching.”

I let out a half-laugh, half-sob.

Then, I close my eyes and re-center myself. Better. I blow out a long, steadying breath. “One of these days, I’m going to catch you,” I say.

“Looking forward to it.”

He brushes his fingers over mine.

A second later, “You okay?” he asks.

I swallow down the rising fear and try not to think about the open crevice beneath me.

“I’m great. Like I said, just hanging out.”

“Good.”

I start moving again. I wipe my hand every few seconds to keep it dry. My arms and legs burn and ache. They’re screaming at me to straighten out, but we’re not to the end yet.

Sam hits his watch display and I breathe a sigh of relief.

“We made it.”

I scoot another foot then drop down. My legs shake and cramp and I drop to the cold rock. Sam lands next to me. He sits down and pulls me into his lap.

We don’t say anything. We just sit there, breathing hard, relishing the hard ground beneath us. His heart pounds against my back. His arms shake and he pulls me harder against his chest. I rub my face against him and wait for his heartbeat to slow.

Finally, my arms and legs stop aching, my hand stops bleeding, and my heart stops racing.

His fingers tangle in my hair and drift over my back. The familiar movement of his hands on me brings me back to a calm place. His touch is the only light I have. There’s the soft, reassuring touch of his fingers to my lips, like the golden light of dawn. When his hands circle and drift over my back, it’s the gentle, breezy light of mid-afternoon. The hard grip of his hand in mine is the bright clear light of a sunny afternoon. The touch of his lips pressing against mine is the dusky, purple light of evening. And when he touches me with want and need, it’s the light of a thousand sunsets.

He brushes a kiss to my forehead, at the corner of my eye. I see the light of stars shining in the darkness.

“You saved me,” I say.

He presses a kiss over each of my eyelids.

“I told you I’d get you out of here. I can’t do that if you’re at the bottom of a pit.”

“Well, that’s true.”

“Besides, you promised me a shower and a bed. I’d do just about anything for a shower.”

I wrinkle my nose. He’s right. It smells really bad. Like musty ammonia, but worse.

“Do you smell that?” I ask.

“It’s coming off that draft,” he says.

I stand and sniff the air. Sure enough, there’s a slight breeze coming from the wall behind us. There’s something tickling my mind, a memory, or a thought. Then there’s a noise. A scratch, then a squeak.

“Bats,” I say. “Bats!”

I grab Sam and start jumping up and down. I hug him to me.

“What? What is it?”

“It’s bats. That smell is bat pee. There’s gotta be a whole colony.”

He stops, and then what I said sinks in because he pulls me to him and lets out a whoop.

“Bats,” he says. “Thank the lord for bats.”

Then he kisses me and I jump into his arms. I smile against his mouth.

“We’re getting out of here.”

The bats are going to show us the way out.