A Song for the Asking

by Steve Gannon

  “Tommy!” he called again.

  He heard only the rush of wind from across the canyon.

  Once more Travis wiped his eyes. Exploring with his fingers, he felt a ragged gash on his forehead. That would have to wait. He had to get back onto the ledge.

  Abruptly, the sling shifted.

  Travis froze. Too late, he realized that the slight swinging motion he had initiated by leaning out on the rope could easily cause the last tenuous anchor to give way—sending both him and Tommy to the rocks below. He held his breath. Then, accepting that he had no other choice, he carefully moved hand over hand up the rope and hooked his left ankle over the ledge. He tried for a handhold on the wall.

  No good. Sling won’t hold much longer. Move!

  All thought of climbing style forgotten, Travis used the rope to pull himself the rest of the way up, praying his movements didn’t dislodge the anchor sling. They didn’t. With a shudder of relief, he rolled over the lip and back onto the ledge. Once there he removed a Friend from the rack and crammed it into a crack above the rock horn, then attached a sling and clipped a carabiner through the figure eight he’d tied earlier. Not satisfied, he added another piece, also replacing the original two that had pulled out. At last he surveyed his work, ruefully thinking his beefed-up anchoring system smacked of locking the barn door after the horses had bolted. Fortunately, at least one had remained in its stall.

  Travis spent the next several minutes shouting his brother’s name down the granite face. Receiving no answer, he finally gave up.

  What now?

  Huddled against the rock, Travis stared at the snow-covered peaks across the valley. The sun had crested and begun its descent to the west, shifting lengthening shadows up the canyon, and the billowing cumulus formations that had risen earlier were already beginning to disperse with the cooling of the land. Travis wrapped his arms around his chest, trying to stop his shaking.

  Am I cold? Or just scared?

  He realized Tommy must be hurt—either unconscious, or worse. He refused to consider the latter. An entire rope length was a long drop, but survivable. Climbing ropes were designed to stretch during a fall, softening the jolt like a bungee. Tommy could have made it without sustaining serious injury, unless he had hit something on the way down. Suddenly Travis remembered the projecting rock outcrop he’d noticed earlier.

  Feeling hopeless, he toyed with the metal rappelling descender hanging from his belt, tracing the two unequal circles of the device that, under different circumstances, could have allowed him to execute a controlled slide down the rope to his brother. Tommy’s weight on the line now made its use impossible.

  Go for help?

  Good idea. But how?

  Down-climb?

  Impossible without a belay.

  Wait for someone to come?

  Could be days, if at all.

  Pull Tommy up, then use the rope to descend in stages to the ground.

  Bracing himself, Travis grabbed the rope and tugged for all he was worth. It didn’t budge.

  “Tommy! Say something, goddammit!”

  His call echoed back unanswered.

  One final option.

  Though gripped by a paralyzing wave of dread, Travis knew what he must do. But could he?

  Admit it, his inner voice whispered. You’re scared, more scared than you’ve ever been in your life.

  Maybe I am. So what?

  So this. Tom’s hurt, and you’re too afraid to help him.

  No!

  Admit it. You’re so terrified you can’t—

  “Yeah, I’m scared,” Travis said aloud. “But I know what I have to do. And I’ll do it.”

  Trembling, he leaned over the edge, his mind roiling with fear. “Tommy, hang on,” he yelled. “I don’t know whether you can hear me, but hang on. I’m coming down.”

  Ignoring the blisters on his rope-burned palms, Travis stripped the flat nylon laces from his climbing shoes and tied together the ends, forming two separate loops. A short length of cord from his chalk bag provided a third. Next, lying on his stomach, he hung over the edge and wound the first loop around the climbing rope twice, then back through itself, creating a prusik knot—a type of slipknot that grabs under tension. Using it, along with two others he would make with the remaining nylon loops, Travis knew he could construct a primitive means of descending and later ascending the rope. Primitive … and dangerous.

  He repeated the process with the other loops and attached nylon slings to all three—double sling lengths on the lower two for his feet, a single sling on the top prusik knot running to his sit-harness.

  Travis took a moment to check the setup and pull on his shoes, now without laces. Then a deep breath.

  Time to go.

  With a rush of mind-numbing terror, Travis swung his right foot into the lowest sling. The prusik knot grabbed and held. Left foot next. Conscious of the shaking in his hands and the vast plunge beneath his feet, he untied the bowline knot at his waist and freed himself from the anchor. A moment later he started his descent.

  Moving as rapidly as possible, Travis worked his way down—using the inchwormlike process of standing in one sling while he slid the two unweighted prusik knots lower on the rope, then standing in the opposite sling and repeating the process. After what seemed an eternity he reached the outcrop, thirty-five feet down.

  A little farther … All at once he could make out Tommy’s body hanging at the end of the rope. “Tommy!” he called.

  Travis’s heart soared as he saw his brother look up.

  Alive! He’s alive!

  Tommy raised a hand, then let it drop to his side.

  Tommy’s weight had jammed the rope against the outcrop, making it difficult for the prusiks to slip by. After several heart-stopping attempts, however, Travis managed to get all three knots past the obstruction. Once more he swung out over the void.

  As he descended, the overhanging wall quickly receded out of reach. Dangling in space, Travis concentrated on the motions, keeping up a steady, methodic rhythm—forcing himself to ignore the jumble of talus far below, spinning now in sickening, hypnotic circles.

  Fifty minutes later Travis finally arrived at the end of the rope. Below him Tommy hung limp and unresponsive. “Tom!” Travis yelled. “Come on, wake up!”

  Slowly, Tommy opened his eyes. He swung listlessly in his sit-harness, making no attempt to grasp the rope. Dried blood covered the left side of his face, matting his hair with a dark-brown crust. “Hit something,” he groaned, raising his hand to his head.

  “There’s an outcrop higher up,” Travis said, trying to sound cheerful. “You managed to bounce off the only projection on the whole damn wall. Don’t worry, you’re going to be all right.”

  “Can’t move my legs.”

  “That’s from hanging in the harness so long,” Travis said, hoping he was right. “Must have cut off the circulation. You’ll be okay.” He reached down and pulled his brother upright. “Here, grab the rope.”

  Exhausted, Tommy attempted to hold himself upright, barely managing to maintain a sitting position. “I screwed up bad, Trav,” he said.

  “You’re gonna be okay.”

  Tommy closed his eyes, straining to form the words. “Hope you’re right.”

  “I know I’m right. We’re getting out of here.”

  “Don’t think so,” Tommy croaked. “Not together, anyway.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Nothing.” Tommy stared at the makeshift descenders Travis had fashioned from his shoelaces. “Told you to bring the Jumars,” he added with a feeble grin.

  “The hell you did.” As he’d been talking, Travis had joined several extra nylon slings he’d brought, clipping one end this nylon tether to a locking carabiner on his harness. Reaching down, he clipped the other end to a similar carabiner on Tommy’s harness, linking them together.

  “Trav, what …”

  “We’re getting off this face before the sun goes down. J
ust hang on.” Standing in the foot-stirrups, Travis slid the top prusik as high on the rope as he could. Then, sitting in his harness and transferring his entire weight to the top knot, he drew in his knees and slid up the bottom two prusiks—reversing the procedure he had used to descend. Again he stood in the stirrups, lifting Tommy as he rose. The operation gained just two vertical feet. But it worked.

  An hour later, burdened by his brother’s weight, Travis had ascended less than half the distance to the outcrop. His legs were shaking and beginning to cramp. Gasping for breath, he paused to gaze at the rocky projection still sixty feet higher. It seemed an impossible distance. Even if he made it, he realized getting past the granite outcrop with Tommy’s weight on the rope could pose a potentially impossible problem. He set out once more, the image of a spider ascending a silken thread with a trussed–up burden in tow popping into his mind. Angrily, he thrust it away as he heard Tommy mumbling something below him.

  “What’s that?” Travis asked, glancing down.

  “Won’t work.”

  “You have a better idea?”

  “Take the rope … rappel down alone.”

  “Take the rope? What about you?”

  Tommy didn’t answer.

  Travis stood abruptly in the slings, jerking his brother another two feet up the face. “Forget it. We’re making it together, or not at all.”

  “The outcrop …”

  “I’ll figure out how to get past when I get there.”

  Ninety minutes later they reached a point just beneath the jutting outcrop. The wall in front still lay out of reach. Travis knew the overhang eased significantly above the outcrop, and once there and able to get his feet on the face, he might be able to pendulum left to the sloping bulge below the final ledge—circumventing the last thirty-five feet of tedious ascent up the rope. But first he had to get there.

  As a chilling wind signaled the approach of dusk, Travis scrutinized the stone projection above. To proceed, he would once again have to lift the rope clear of the rock to slide past the prusiks, as he had on his descent. It would be an impossible task now with Tommy weighing him down.

  His eyes searched the rock face. Seconds later he found a small crack splitting the granite, just below the outcrop. Working quickly, he wedged in a wired stopper. A downward tug locked it in place. Remembering his failed anchor on the belay ledge, he jammed in a second piece higher up, then passed a sling through both.

  He glanced down at his brother. Tommy had been slipping in and out of consciousness for the past hour. “Tommy,” he shouted. “Come on, wake up! I’m going to need your help for this.”

  Tommy’s eyelids fluttered open.

  “You okay?” Travis asked.

  “My head,” Tommy groaned, peering up myopically. “Dizzy.”

  “How’re your legs?”

  “Numb.” Tommy closed his eyes.

  “Stay awake.”

  “Huh?”

  “You have to stay awake.”

  “I’ll try.”

  Travis secured Tommy’s tether to the temporary anchor he’d placed, then used his prusik system to lower the rope several feet, allowing the wired stoppers to take his brother’s weight. Carefully, he opened the locking carabiner at his waist. Tommy swung free.

  Briefly, Travis rested. Then, “Listen, Tommy. I’m going to leave you here and climb past the outcrop. Once I’m there I’ll pull you up and over, but you’ll have to help.”

  “How?”

  “When I start hauling, unclip the anchor you’re hanging from and fend yourself off the rock. Can you do that?”

  Tommy nodded weakly.

  “Good. See you in a minute.” Travis unclipped the top prusik from his harness. Then, grabbing the rope, he shook his feet free of the slings, conscious that he was now no longer connected to the rope. Without it, he was just a slip away from death.

  Three quick hand-over hands up the rope got him high enough to bring his dangling feet into play. Smearing his right toe against the granite, he leaned back. His movement raised the rope off the rock, allowing him to move up his grip. Without laces, his climbing shoes were nearly useless. Suddenly his right foot slid off the face. The rope snapped back against the outcrop, pinning his hands.

  The blisters on Travis’s palms had ripped open hours before. His hands were now slick with blood. With a feeling of horror, he felt them beginning to slip. His right foot was hopelessly out of position. Frantically, he scrabbled with his left, trying for a purchase.

  No good. Can’t …

  Easy. Don’t panic. You can do this.

  Travis fought for control.

  No time.

  Taking a deep breath, he thrust himself backward, pushing off with his left foot.

  Hang on …

  He swung outward for a heartbeat, twisting in space. His lunge again lifted the rope from the rock, momentarily freeing his hands. Praying his grip would hold, he brought in his right leg, getting it beneath him just as he dropped back on the face.

  Can’t hold on much longer …

  His toe found a nubbin. It felt solid.

  Left hand up. Now the right. Smear the other foot. Hands up once more …

  Got it.

  Gasping with exertion, Travis rose to his knees atop the outcrop. Not taking time to rest, he hauled in slack rope and clipped it to his harness when he felt the tug of Tommy’s weight at the other end. Heart still racing, he reset his rudimentary prusik ascenders on the rope above. Again using his legs to lift, he began pulling his brother over the outcrop. Although Tommy was able to perform his part to help bring himself up, it proved a tedious, time-consuming process. By the time Travis had managed to drag Tommy up to join him, the light had started to fail.

  Because of the overhanging wall below, Travis knew it would be impossible to rappel down the direction they had just come. He peered to the left. In the growing dimness he could make out the sloping incline he had traversed near the end of his pitch, just before Tommy’s fall. If he could somehow make it there with Tommy in tow, there was a chance both of them could rappel down from there. Travis studied the wall, considering a horizontal run across the rock face to the relative safety of the bulging incline. “Tommy?” he said.

  “What?” Tommy groaned.

  “We need to pendulum across to the bulge. I’m going to give it a try.”

  “Too heavy with me. Tie me off … go down alone.”

  “No way.” Travis stepped up in the ascenders, lifting Tommy clear of the rock.

  “Trav …”

  “I’m not leaving you here. That’s not an option. I told you I would get you down, and I will.” Leaning back, Travis placed both feet flat against the wall, preparing for the pendulum. “Besides, aren’t you forgetting something?”

  “What?”

  Travis smiled grimly. “Dad’s been pounding it into us since we were old enough to listen. Don’t you remember? Kanes stand together, Tom. No matter what.”

  23

  Night. Travis paused in his rappel and searched the rock below, barely able to make out the dim outline of his own hand in the darkness. With a wave of near-panic, he suddenly realized that finding his way back down to his brother might not be as easy as he’d thought.

  The pendulum had been difficult with Tommy in tow, but Travis had eventually managed to swing over to the small sloping incline. Precious minutes had slipped past as he’d again temporarily anchored Tommy to the rock, after which he had untied his prusiks, replaced the laces in his shoes, and climbed the remaining distance alone to the final belay ledge. Once there he had repositioned the anchor to a better rappel point, hurrying to use the final seconds of dusk. He’d then passed the climbing rope through a rappel sling—knotting together the ends and leaving equal lengths dangling from the middle. By the time he had attached his figure-eight descender and started rappelling back down the rope, the light had failed, cloaking the rock in complete and unfathomable darkness.

  Now, as Travis slowly rappelled dow
n the rope, he resisted the urge to rush. He realized that if something were to go wrong now, there would be no second chance. After another fifteen feet he stopped and pendulummed to each side, calling Tommy’s name.

  Why doesn’t he answer? He can’t be that far below me. He should be able to hear. Unless … No! He’s all right. He has to be all right.

  Travis let another ten feet of rope pass through the descender, fighting a realization that Tommy’s periods of unresponsiveness had become more frequent as time went on. With a chill, he remembered that a friend from school who’d suffered a concussion in a car accident had seemed fine for hours. Later his condition had progressively deteriorated as the swelling and pressure in his cranium gradually increased.

  “Tommy!”

  Still nothing,

  Have I already gone by him?

  Travis stopped his descent and began another exploratory pendulum to each side, groping with his free hand as he swung across the granite. As he completed his outward swing and started back, his toe encountered something.

  Tommy!

  It took several frustrating passes to return. Finally Travis could make out the dark shape of his brother on the rock. “Tom! Come on, Tommy, wake up.”

  It took his brother several seconds to respond. When he did, his voice sounded weak and drained. “That you, Trav?”

  “Who else would be dumb enough to be up here with you in the dark? How’re you doing?”

  “Not good …”

  “Just take it easy. I’m going to get you down.”

  “How? Can’t see a thing.”

  Travis hesitated, considering their options. He did a quick mental calculation. Because they had only one rope, which needed to be doubled to rappel, it would take a minimum of ten sequential rappels to reach the ground—every stage of the descent presenting its own opportunity for misplacing an anchor, snarling the line when retrieving it, or simply misjudging the distance to the next stopping point—any of which could prove fatal. With Tommy’s weight dragging him down, it would have been difficult enough during the day. To attempt it in darkness would be suicide.

  Travis realized he might be able to make it alone—even in the dark. Once on the valley floor he could go for help. But without Tommy to lead the climb back up to their present position, the only way to reach him upon returning would involve a time-consuming hike up the backside and another multiple rappel from above. Would Tommy still be alive when they got there? As it had the night before, the temperature promised to drop well below freezing later on, and in all probability his brother was already in shock. Travis knew he had to get him down, and the sooner the better.