Spin Out

by James Buchanan

  “We?” I moved on after him. “You’re not snow-ice certified.” He’d done a few winter climbs so far, but not enough to use him on a first responder situation.

  He stared over the lip and sized up the face, kinda like I’d done a moment ago. “True.” Then looked over at me. “But that doesn’t mean you don’t need a hand now and then.” His grin hit me kinda sideways…I got the sense he threw a joke in on top of the serious part of his words.

  “I guess.” I started sorting my rope, making sure it weren’t tangled none. “Maybe I should call up Jessup and Rodrigo.” Both of them had the right qualifications to be lead on this.

  A snort let me know what he thought of that plan. “You want to wait while that driver goes further into death-by-exposure territory, fine by me.” Kabe’s glare told me he knew I wouldn’t wait for them to get their butts out here if I didn’t have to. “I may not be legal to go down myself, but I’ve been doing the drills with the crew.” He reminded me. “So you can wait, or you can let me help.”

  He was right, I was being a little too uptight about it all. I huffed out a cloud of mist. “What you got in the truck?” Weren’t like we was talking about taking on Pfeifferhorn, the hairiest winter peak in the Wasatch Range.

  “Some snow ropes, carabineers and crap.” Something off his tone told me Kabe’d done an inventory and weren’t all that impressed. “We have a litter and some heavier gear in case we need it.”

  “Alright.” Between them and me, I figured we could manage with the equipment on hand.

  Kabe and I started digging out gear from one of the compartments on the fire truck. Stuff was old, needed to be aired out some, but didn’t see any rust or rot in the webbing. I threw a couple sliders and a belt over my shoulder. As I tucked some carabineers into my thigh pocket, Kabe asked. “What’s your flash?”

  “I’d say it’s probably between forty-five and sixty degrees on slope.” I pointed off to the side of the debris path from the car’s trip down. “The bowling alley seems clear but I don’t trust the run out at the end there.” The narrow rock sluice might look easy, but who knew exactly what lay under the snow. Plus, there were a couple drop-offs. “Liable to send myself shooting towards a drop off with one wrong step.”

  Kabe’d prowled around along the lip while I moved over to dump the collection of gear by the front tire of my Explorer. “There’s not a lot of anchors up here.” Instinctively, neither of us trusted the railing’s stability…even what wasn’t busted out might have been compromised by the impact.

  I popped the bowed out mass of metal struts and bars on the front end of my vehicle. “We can use the bull-bars.” Then I walked around to the back to pull out the rest of what we might need from the stash of stuff I kept.

  “Okay.” Kabe opened up the Explorer’s door and pushed down the parking break with his hand. “I’ll do belay.”

  Came back and dropped the new gear with the rest. “Know how to manage a sitting hip belay station?”

  “Yeah, theory as far as the setup, I’ve always done active belay on faces.” He shrugged as he began pooling the rope so it wouldn’t twist up as he fed it out. “But, I can belay someone in my sleep…no matter how we arrange it.”

  “Alright.” I pointed to the ground right at the edge of the pavement. “You’re going to sit here and we’ll tie you into the bull-bar.” Began the quick and dirty process of getting the light rescue harness around his middle.

  He started and stared down at my hands. “Seriously?” His tone told me he didn’t think this part were all that necessary. “I mean, come on, everyone’s out here…and you’re going to do bondage?”

  I ignored the sexual jibe in his last few words. “Kinda have to.” Got a grunt offa him as I snugged it up. Locked a couple of webbing loops by wrapping ‘em around different struts of the bull-bars and sliding them through themselves. Then I hooked Kabe to the other ends with a carabineer. “Look, this ain’t funning. If I slip I’m gonna go fast and it’s slicker than snot on a doorknob up here. Don’t want to have you come tumbling on after me.”

  “Oh, me landing on top.” He teased. “Might be fun for a change.”

  I didn’t even answer that dig. We’d practiced this a few times with the volunteer rescue squad, but Kabe’d never had a chance to train in anything other than a controlled environment. “Remember, the rope’s pooled here.” I flipped the line against his pants leg. “It’s gonna run up and around your left thigh.” Showed him where on my own body. “Use your left hand to keep tension, that’s the brake hand, never let it off the rope. Your body is the cam that the rope runs around and your right hand, the feeding hand, is gonna feed the rope to me.” I drew my teeth across my bottom lip. “Got it?”

  He popped my shoulder with his fist. “Joe, trust me.”

  I swallowed. “What?” Held myself up on the side of the Explorer as I pulled the rubber and chain set of MICROspikes over my boots…they wouldn’t serve as well as full on crampons for ice climbing but they fit in a little corner of space and went on a heck of a lot quicker.

  “Dude, trust me.” His face was all earnest. “I won’t let you fall, you know that.”

  Took a deep breath and then another. Finally, I answered. “I trust you. I do.”

  “Sometimes I wonder.” Kabe snorted. “Getting me subpoenaed and all.”

  “Look, Kabe, I’m bad at the whole boyfriend thing.” I started working the belay rope around me. Threaded it through my right, strong hand, and wrapped it under my forearm and over my bicep. “We’ll talk that out later. But I know, down here,” put my fist right up against my sternum, “you’d never let me fall…if you could help it.” And that were the honest truth. I trusted Kabe, sometimes, more than I trusted myself. I’d let him belay me into hell itself if I needed it. This weren’t quite that.

  For a steep but not vertical slope—and when I was wearing thermal undershirt, uniform shirt and thick, departmental issued jacket—an arm rappel technique would serve well. The rest of the rope went ‘round my back and then I reversed the twist on my off, down-slope, arm. “We got to work all the rest out.” I reminded him. “But I would hang on a frog’s hair as long as you held it.”

  “I’m right here.” Kabe smiled before he sat down and twisted the ropes around his legs and torso like I told him. “I won’t let you fall.” I got the sense those words meant worlds beyond the syllables. “No matter how pissed at you I am that you get me served and then bail on round two to take phone calls.” Then he laughed, looking up at me with those big eyes of his. “I even let you get my butt all sloppy and wet.” I caught the double meaning…it weren’t all about him sitting in roadside slush.

  We didn’t have time to hash things out right then. Had to pull through the work and come back to the rest of my life later. “On belay?” I barked the question to him as I stepped to the edge of the drop off.

  Sure and confident, the standard answer came back to me, “Belay on!”

  After one deep breath, I went over the lip. Like I figured, it weren’t a full rappel situation, more of a steep slope covered in rime. Even with spikes hitched to my boots, I smeared my feet relative to the grade to gain as much friction as possible on my descent. The more those little metal teeth had to grab into the better my chances of not having to utilize plan B…in this case Kabe saving me from a dynamic, free-fall exit out of this walking rappel. The hill meant slow going. I couldn’t rush, a mix of snow/ice and a few patches of verglas—the rock visible through the sheaf of ice and spindrift snow—coated the surface and made it treacherous.

  Slipped a couple of times. Managed to arrest my slides before they became falls with Kabe hard on the belay rope, a little bruising as the line tightened around my arms and not too much wounding of my pride. I finally made it down to the car: an older model, little Japanese made thing with two doors and a backseat. The car’d come to rest on all four tires, facing down-slope and with the front part of the passenger side smashed against a tree. I tied the rope off at abou
t chest high on a tree away from where the car came to rest.

  Quick scan told me the only occupant appeared to be the driver. She was conscious, moaning some, but her eyes were open and she tracked my movements as I came up along the side. I tried the door but it wouldn’t budge. “You all right there?” The driver’s door sported some damage, heck the whole car did. Looked like she’d been playing bumper cars with rocks and trees on the way down. Luckily she hadn’t rolled over. Figured the door might be jammed, but maybe it was just locked. “Can you unlock the door for me?” She hit the electronic switch, but nothing happened. Then she tried the handle and that wouldn’t budge either.

  I fished my Houdini Pro out of the left thigh pocket on my uniform pants. “Look it, I’m gonna break your window here. I need you to cover your face.” While she put her hands over her face, I wrapped the tool in my fist and set the button tip right in the center of the passenger’s side window. “It’s gonna jar some and maybe hurt a little, you hang in there though, okay? I gotta check you out.” Then I started to push…could feel that plastic sheath pushed back to the lock and I tensed as I sensed the punch drive released. Snapped my spine straight at the sound of the window shattering.

  With gloves and the side of the Houdini I cleared out as much as I could of the door window. I leaned into the passenger compartment some, flicking the light on the end of the rescue tool to help me see inside the dim space. I scanned around, enough to pick up the details hidden by lack of direct sun. My biggest worry was that the car might roll a bit more…like through the trees and over the edge…taking her, and me, with it. Still, I needed to check the occupants of the vehicle.

  This quick search confirmed my earlier scan, only one soul was in the car. A small woman, maybe twenty-something, sat in the driver’s seat. The seatbelt twisted itself all up around her and I could see just a hint of blue tinting her lips.

  “How’s it look, Joe?” Kabe’s voice came from up by the road.

  I hauled myself up outta the car enough to yell back. “We’re gonna need a neck brace and a back board here! I got to cut her down.” With as short as she was and with the shoulder harness locked up, the belt pulled right across her neck. She’d twisted her head to the side to give herself some breathing room, but it couldn’t have been much. “Seatbelt’s constricting her airway.”

  “Okay!” He acknowledged. “I’m sending the guys down your line with the backboard and stuff!”

  “I tied it off.” I let him know I heard. “They should be good to go.” Now that the rope gave the others a line to clip to, they didn’t need to be climbers to follow me down. I turned my attention back to her. “Look, miss,” didn’t know if she really cared much what I had to say, but I always talked folks through things, “I’m gonna cut your seatbelt off. You’re gonna drop forward some, but I gotta do it.” If I didn’t she just might strangle.

  Flipping open the hook blade of the Houdini, I scooted back into the cab of the car. The trick would be keeping her from sliding forward onto the steering column. She seemed to get what I was up to because she reached out and braced her hand against the dash. With her that lucid, I decided to take one more precaution. “Can you set the parking brake?” She nodded as much as she was able, moved her leg and I heard the grind as it in engaged. We might still slide, but at least the car wouldn’t roll. I grabbed the belt above her head, caught the webbing with the hook end of the Houdini an inch or so above my grip, and pulled it towards me. Slit that thick fabric like a hot knife through butter. Then I tossed the belt away from her as she sucked in a deep breath with a sob.

  I did a quick vitals check. Everything seemed as normal as possible under the circumstances. “Okay, miss. ‘Nother minute more and the EMTs will be down.” I squeezed her hand when she reached up for me. “Don’t panic. But I got to make sure this car don’t go no farther down this hill.” When I saw her eyes go wide, I got a little strict. “Just hang in there. You got to do it.”

  She whispered, “Okay,” as I stepped back.

  Turned away and saw the EMTs slowly making their way down. Up on the lip of the road, Kabe’d dropped the harness and shucked his turnout coat. “Kabe!” I yelled up at him and caught his attention. “Bring on down some more rope, we may have to force the door and I want to tie this baby in solid.” He flashed me two thumbs up and disappeared behind the vehicles.

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  Chapter 8

  The things I disliked about my job were few and far between. Times like yesterday, helping the woman in her car, made me feel proud and special. This particular duty, however, I could have lived without. Put it off until the end of my shift, ‘cause I knew from experience, I’d be in no shape to do much more than head on home and lose myself in looking at the TV. Telling someone that their worst fear has come true…well it’s darn near impossible not to come away raw from watching a family hear the news.

  I hit where Highway 12 morphed into Main Street, Escalante. The town weren’t more than a few cafes, tiny markets and sports outfitters serving Dixie National. Peppered here and there, a couple small motels managed to eke out a living from the tourists. Yeah, it boasted a high school, but that serviced the town and all the farms within twenty miles and sat within spitting distance of the elementary school. What I remembered most about Escalante was creaming the Moquis in football…heck, I was big, Mormon and went to Panguitch High, that meant I played tackle for the Bobcats. There’s really two main religions in Utah: LDS and Football.

  I turned off the main drag onto one of the side streets filled with little houses set off in neat rows. Another turn and then another and the houses thinned along stretches of rural road. Homes out here were pretty sparse, you’d get a cluster of residences then maybe half a mile down the way there might be a barn or a trailer. Horses, hunkered together for warmth, watched my SUV drive on by with something passing for curiosity.

  A little box of a house with blue siding and a gray roof crouched behind a sad old tree. Tacked on additions strung out along the side, each one slightly smaller than the next. The split rail fence separated the snowbound front yard from the mud and slush marking the road easement. The number on the fence post told me I was where I would really rather not be.

  I parked off the lip of the pavement. By the time I got out and walked on through the gate, a lady had wandered out onto the concrete slab of a front porch. She looked dimmed down, like someone had washed most of the color out of her. Taking off my Stetson, I asked, “Mrs. Walker?” Figured it’d likely be her, but thought I ought to ask to be polite.

  She knew why I was there. Saw it flash across her face about my third step up the walk. “Oh, no.” She clapped her hands over her mouth and screamed from behind her fingers, “No! No!” Shaking her head, she backed toward the door. “No, he isn’t. He can’t be.”

  I’d made it to her side by then. “Ma’am, I am so sorry.” I took hold of her arm and tried to guide her through the door. “Let’s get you inside and sit you on down.” Instead of moving she just sorta sagged into my body. Managed to get one arm up under both of hers so she didn’t go over. “Come on, it’s cold out here.”

  I heard someone running up behind me. “Liz, what’s—”

  Couldn’t quite turn around, what with Mrs. Walker sobbing into my chest. “Who are you?”

  “Nancy.” She came around beside me. Looked like she’d run out the door when Mrs. Walker screamed—sweater, galoshes, white hair pulled up under a knit cap, but her house dress certainly weren’t meant for forty-five degree weather. “Nancy Fellows.” She added her last name as she pulled Mrs. Walker along. “Come on Liz, let’s get you inside.” Between the both of us we managed to move her on into the house and get her situated in an old stationary rocker. “I’m here honey, I’ll stay with you.” Mrs. Fellows patted Liz Walker’s face with a set of thin hands, joints all popped out with age.

  I sat myself down on the faded green couch. “Know the Walkers well?”

  She shrugged a lit
tle. “I’ve lived across the road for sixty years now.” Digging a handkerchief out of the pocket of her house dress, Mrs. Fellows wiped away a few of her neighbor’s tears before tucking the cloth in Liz Walker’s hand. “I’ll get you some water.” Liz managed to nod. I don’t think she could yet manage to speak.

  Figured I’d give her a little time, let her get herself back together a bit. I picked up the Book of Mormon off the side table between us. Then I put it on back. Wasn’t sure she’d appreciate me offering her a few lines of comfort. Instead I fidgeted with my Stetson and tried not to look at her. A sad little Christmas tree sat off in the corner. My guess they’d made the effort for Lane’s younger sisters, he had two from what I’d read in the file, but you could tell the house didn’t hold a lot of spirit right then. The girls would probably be in school right now…I didn’t think Christmas break was due to start for another couple days. This weren’t gonna be the cheeriest holiday they’d ever had.

  A deep indrawn breath let me know she’d found some control. “You’ve found Lane?” Her voice cracked as she said her son’s name.

  “I’m afraid we have.” I swallowed. It’s so hard to be the one who has to tell it. You’re supposed to have all the answers and sometimes, like right then, there just ain’t none. “Some folks out hunting came across him.” Hit me that I’d never told her who I was. She right knew why I was there. “I’m Deputy Peterson and I’ve been assigned to look into your son’s death.”

  “Take the water Liz.” Mrs. Fellows shuffled back into the room cradling a jelly jar full of water. She set it on the table and then leaned down to press her cheek against Liz’s hair. That little comfort offered, she pulled back. “I’m gonna call Trish for you.” For my benefit she added, “Her eldest daughter works over at the gas station,” before she headed back into the kitchen.

  Liz took a small sip before asking, “Are you sure that it’s him.”