by R. S. Kovach
Enthusiastic cheers rang out again.
“For some of you, this final task will be a piece of cake, while for others, it may be the hardest thing you do all day.” He pointed them to a platform about chest height off the ground. “This is called the Trust Fall.”
He went on to explain that they would each stand on the platform one at a time and let themselves fall backward into the arms of their teammates below. Although the prospect of something going wrong and her ending up on the ground crossed Ali’s mind, having Hank nearby overseeing the challenge squashed her worries. After he demonstrated the proper technique for the spotters below, she volunteered to be the first to make the leap.
Her heart beat erratically as she climbed the rungs and lined up at the edge of the platform. With one last glance over her shoulder and after getting the all-clear signal from Hank, she crossed her arms over her chest, closed her eyes, and tipped backward. Ali could feel that her posture wasn’t perfect—Hank had instructed them to stay as rigid as possible—and instead of landing evenly on the clasped arms below, her butt hit the target first. Still, the group of women kept a firm hold and, redirecting her momentum, quickly righted Ali onto her feet.
Sheridan was next in line. The woman had eagerly chatted up Hank any chance she got, making it even harder for Ali to see her flawlessly execute the challenge. When she began boasting about how awesome the experience was and what a rush it gave her, Ali couldn’t take it anymore.
“Why don’t you do it again, then?” She stepped in front of the brunette, who was adjusting her ponytail. “But this time, turn toward us so we can see all that joy on your face.”
Sheridan furrowed her brow and crossed her arms. “Do you have a problem?”
“Not at all.” Ali faked a smile. “I just enjoy a show as much as the next girl.”
“Ladies!” Hank clapped his hands together to regain their attention. “We have eight more of you to go before we can start the real competition, so let’s focus on that, shall we?” he bellowed authoritatively.
Ali immediately regretted the outburst—not for Sheridan’s sake, but because it made her appear petty in front of Hank—but as the others regrouped into formation, he gave her a sly wink. That tiny act was enough to boost her spirits, and they finished the activity without incident. Team four eventually moved to a new clearing farther into the woods just as the others started to assemble.
Ali’s team woefully underperformed in the first challenge, coming in last for Bridge Out, where they had to use just three planks of varying lengths to get all ten members across five large gaps in a low walkway. While they probably wouldn’t have beaten team two, who completed the task in record time, they would have avoided embarrassing themselves if most of the group didn’t have their own opinions about how to approach the puzzle. Still riding high from her confrontation with Sheridan—a well-placed dis could often result in satisfaction—Ali held back in the planning and let the other ladies quibble over their conflicting ideas. Obviously that wasn’t a wise decision, so when they tried the same haphazard tactic with the Spiderweb obstacle, she took charge immediately.
“We need to have the two—ahem—biggest girls go first and last, climbing through the bottom spaces.” Ali pointed to the geometric voids formed by bungee cords stretched between two trees, resembling a vertical spider’s web. “They won’t need any help getting across to the other side, but then they can serve as support for the lighter girls, who can be passed through the higher holes. Just remember that no part of your bodies can touch the ropes, or we’ll have to start again.”
The women looked at each other, some nodding in agreement, while others appeared to take more time to think it through.
“Or we could try all doing our own thing and come in last again,” Ali added, pointing to the other teams, who already had one or even two members on the other side of the obstacle.
Hank stepped in. “Well, ladies?”
Murmurs of “It’s worth a shot . . . fine . . . why not,” ran through the group before one of the heavier-set women approached the web. “I guess I’ll try this one?” She looked to Ali for confirmation as she stood in front of a larger opening.
Following the plan, the women of group four slowly passed through the obstacle—whether on their own or assisted by their teammates—making sure not to touch the cords. The carelessness of the other teams in this regard worked in their favor, because they had to start all over when even one person incurred a fault. Although team four made up a lot of time, they still came in second. Once they reached their stride, the Zigzag Balance Beam obstacle—which consisted of getting everyone on the team across a narrow, twisting beam while holding hands, without stepping to the ground—and the Log Jam, where they had to rearrange themselves in a new order while balancing on a log, went similarly: although they continued to work together, the members of Ali’s group still couldn’t win a task.
“There’s one more group challenge,” Hank announced as they walked, weary and heads down, to another spot in the forest. “It’s your last chance to show you can beat the other teams, but if any of you need to sit it out, we can take volunteers to do two turns instead.”
A blonde named Lina jogged to Hank’s side. “Why would we want to sit it out?”
He slowed to wait for the stragglers in the back. “We’re almost there, and then it should be fairly obvious.” After shepherding the entire group to a gallowslike structure, he remained in the back as Major Jeffries once again took over.
Stepping to the rope dangling from a swinging arm, he spread his legs and put his hands on his hips. “This is the Pelican. It’s a rope swing with attitude, if you will. To complete the challenge, you must hold on to the end of the rope on this side and cross onto the platform on the opposite side without touching the ground. As there is only one of these structures, each team will be timed and the group that gets ten members across the quickest wins.”
Squeezing through the assembled crowd, Ali stopped next to Hank and crossed her arms. “You meant me, right? When you suggested we could sit it out?” She spoke just loud enough over the surrounding murmurs so he could hear.
Without looking at her, he replied unenthusiastically, “You have a broken wrist, Ali. I can’t ask you do something that could hurt you further.”
“We’re going to go bottom to top, and I’m not saying we’ve been keeping score, but . . .” Jeffries continued with his explanation, pulling out a pad of paper and a pencil from his back pocket to a chorus of groans, “we’ve been keeping score.”
“How about asking me first?” Ali hissed, no longer listening to Jeffries.
Hank looked at her with a puzzled expression. “I’m sorry, but I didn’t mean to offend you in any way. I wanted to give you an easy out in case—”
“In case what?” The question came out louder than she’d meant, drawing a few unwanted looks in their direction.
“In case you wanted to use it,” Hank finished his prior statement, still furrowing his brow at her reaction.
Ali balled her fists, literally gritting her teeth as she considered an appropriately harsh response, but Jeffries addressed Hank first.
“Mathis, if you’d like to show your team the proper procedure for this task, this would be a good time to do it.” The man stepped aside and waited for Hank to join him. “The other teams can take a breather, you’ll get your turn soon enough. All yours, Hank.”
“Thanks, Alan. So, ladies of team four, if you could gather up here at the front please.” He waited while the team assembled. “I’m going to quickly demonstrate how this obstacle works and then we can get started. First, get a good grip with both hands as high up the rope as you can reach, like so.”
He stretched and held on to the rope. “You’ll want to push off from this platform, so get a good running start, if you can. Then pull up your feet and let go of the rope.” After taking a large step back
ward, he ran forward, leaping off the edge.
The trajectory was just right, and he landed—on both feet with knees bent—right in the middle of the raised target on the other side. As he stood up, Hank briefly wobbled. “Whoa.” He threw both arms out to steady himself.
“Are you okay?” someone asked, but he quickly smiled.
“Yeah. No worries.” After shaking his head as if to realign his equilibrium, Hank continued. “Now, as I said before, if you feel like you can’t complete this challenge, raise your hand, and we’ll find a substitute.”
When everyone—including Ali—kept their hands down, Hank shrugged. “Very well. Line up, and let’s get the clock started.”
After running back into the tree line to pick up a short, sturdy stick, Ali ended up last in the queue. The first few women mimicked Hank’s style and crossed without incident, while a couple in the middle took a little more time—whether because they couldn’t get a good grip or because they failed to push off properly—to make it to the other side. Ali eagerly waited for her turn, tapping her foot to release her internal tension. When the woman before her swung the pendulum back to her, she grabbed the rope and, using a well-practiced sailor’s knot, tied the stick she’d been holding to its end. She used up a few precious seconds to test the strength, but the added support the makeshift handle gave her made up for the delay.
The sound of her own breathing rang in her ears as she backed up as far as the rope would allow before making a running start. At the end of the platform, she stuck the handle under her arm, putting her full weight on it before soaring above the fifteen or so linear feet of grass below. The women on the other side reached out to assist her landing, and as Ali’s feet hit the ground, she finally exhaled.
“Forty-eight seconds.” Her teammates cheered as Captain Northcutt read the results off the stopwatch. Better yet, even women in other groups sitting in the clearing applauded her performance until the next team began lining up for their turn.
“That was genius.” Hank patted her back after she steadied her trembling legs and jumped off the platform.
“You should have had more faith in me.” She shook off his touch and kept walking.
Following her off to the side, he gently grabbed her arm and forced Ali to stop. “I won’t make that mistake again.” Quickly releasing his hold, he remained next to her while pretending to watch the next group.
Still reeling from the rush, Ali fought off the sudden urge to seek comfort in his arms. “What makes you think I’ll give you the opportunity?” she whispered, but already she could feel her anger dissipate.
He rubbed his nose before turning back again. “Am I going to have to beg?” His shapely mouth stretched across a toothy grin, and Ali spontaneously wondered what he tasted like today.
“Um . . . I haven’t decided yet.” His nearness was messing with her mind, and she had to glance down at her shoes to get the words out. “Excuse me.”
Taking refuge at Wylda’s side, Ali watched the next two teams come close to—but not quite beat—her group’s time. Having been in the lead most of the day, team three was the last to attempt the Pelican challenge. When someone tried to mimic Ali’s trick and failed to secure the stick properly, the resulting delay led to the team’s ultimate loss.
Riding the high from their only win of the day, Ali was only halfheartedly paying attention when Captain Northcutt announced a surprise, individual challenge. Sweaty, tired, and hungry, as soon as she heard the word “volunteers,” she knew she’d be sitting it out anyway, but the sight of the thirty-foot-tall telephone pole at the center of the obstacle confirmed her decision. A slew of hands shot up in the air and the captain called on a petite brunette named Beth to be the first to scale the precarious tower’s rungs, stand at the top, and then jump toward a ring dangling ten feet away in order to touch it before rappelling back to the ground.
Although Beth was initially enthusiastic, vertigo began to get the better of her about three-quarters of the way up the pole, and Northcutt had to distract her with an exchange of increasingly dirty knock-knock jokes to get her through the task. After seeing the complexity of the challenge, the number of volunteers from the second and then third teams decreased significantly. Major Jeffries cleverly debated the merits of baseball over football with Shawna to keep her mind clear of fear, while Captain Wesley led the entire crowd in a roaring rendition of “Do Re Mi” from The Sound of Music to support his climber, Maria.
Hank stood when the others had finished. “All right, team four, it’s your turn. Wow, what enthusiasm,” he fake-gushed when not one hand shot up into the air. Pacing in front of the eager crowd, he stopped and pointed at his choice. “Ali.”
She frowned. “I didn’t raise my hand.”
“I know.” He smiled back. “But I have faith in you.”
Several of her teammates giggled while others huddled together for whispered exchanges, no doubt attempting to decipher the meaning behind his words.
Ali huffed, furious at both his tactlessness and his audacity. Was this Hank’s misguided attempt to apologize for his initial condescension at the Pelican swing? Why would he think one success would make her want to do something even more brazen? If nothing else, didn’t he realize that he was running the risk of outing their relationship? “No, thanks.” She shook her head. “I’ll pass.”
“Are you sure?” Hank looked around. “I guess I could let Annie or maybe . . . I don’t know, Sheridan go in your spot.”
Ali glanced at the brunette, who was sitting farther away in the crowd. When she caught her looking, Sheridan narrowed her eyes and gave her a daring pout.
She gritted her teeth. Out of anyone there, Sheridan was the very last person she wanted to go in her place. And obviously, Hank knew that.
“Fine,” she huffed, pushing herself up from the ground. She carefully stepped around the others but made no such accommodations near Sheridan. “Whoops,” Ali said when she bumped the woman’s shoulder with her knee.
The crowd’s cheers for Ali’s commitment to the task drowned out Sheridan’s subsequent curses, but it didn’t lessen her momentary feeling of accomplishment. This was successfully shattered when she faced the two captains poised to strap her into all of the safety harnesses.
“Mathis can be a ballbuster, but he means well.” Jeffries smiled reassuringly. “Can you just make a quick fist so I can be sure you even have the chance to get to the top?”
Raising her bound wrist, Ali successfully curled her fingers against the fiberglass and the soldier nodded in approval. Several minutes passed with the preparations, and her knees felt weak when she finally buckled the helmet and took her position at the bottom of the wooden utility pole. Putting her hands on the closest rungs, she lifted one foot onto another and closed her eyes.
As she took a deep breath to calm herself, Hank spoke up. “Whenever you’re ready.”
“I know!” Ali snapped, opening her eyes. “You got me?”
Standing nearby, he was counterbalancing the support rope, which—after going from her harness to a pulley above—was threaded into the belay system strapped around his waist. “Yes. Trust me, okay?”
Turning back to the pole, she began her ascent.
Carefully maneuvering upward only after making sure her hands and feet were always firmly on each narrow rung, Ali was only a few yards off the ground before Hank interrupted again. “Can you go a little faster? I’m getting kind of hungry.”
Glancing over her shoulder, she cleared her throat before answering. “I have a broken arm, if you can’t tell.”
He held back a smile, keeping his lips pressed together and causing faint creases to appear at the edges of his eyes. “Oh, yeah? How’d you manage to do that?”
Returning her attention to the task before her, Ali reached up with her good hand and pushed up with her feet. “I fell off a horse,” she grumbled, realizing ful
l well he already knew that.
“Is that why you’re here?” Hank’s voice was mixed with amusement and curiosity.
Knowing dozens of eyes were on her—and feeling as if they were boring a hole right through her body as she struggled to complete the challenge—Ali had to regain control of the situation. “Good grief. Is this a therapy session now? Of course it is.” There was no way to deny the obvious, and her blunt answer earned a few giggles from the women below.
“But why? Anyone who’s ever gotten on a horse has fallen off one,” he countered to similar murmurs of agreement.
Ali moved farther up the pole. “True. I’ve been bucked plenty of times.”
“Then what’s the problem?” he said, continuing to prod.
“I shouldn’t have been there,” she mumbled, catching a view of the increasing height from the corner of her eye.
Hank either didn’t hear or wanted to know more. “What?”
“It wasn’t my stable, and it wasn’t my horse,” she called out, feeling her legs visibly shake. The sensation continued up her body, reaching her arms and fingers as they gripped the supports.
“So you’re blaming yourself for what you claim was an avoidable mistake.”
It was neither a statement nor a question, and she didn’t answer.
“But didn’t you jump at a national level?” His tone now clearly demanded a response, but his use of such a personal revelation finally got to her.
“Yes. Jesus! So now this is an interrogation?” Ali took a deep breath and moved up one more rung. The faster she finished, the faster she could get away from Hank and his third-degree treatment.
“Well, an expert horseman should be good on any animal they put under him.” He sounded like he was thinking out loud. “Or her.”
Ali recalled Robert’s reasoning for getting her to the stables that day. “That’s what he said.”