by Scott Graham
* * *
Chuck returned to camp from the A-frame. He considered confronting Dale about his altercation with Owen. But, like Owen, Dale was sure to deny the argument had taken place, which meant questioning him would serve only to make him aware of Chuck’s suspicion. Instead, Chuck kept his distance from Dale as well as from Mark, Caleb, and Bernard throughout the afternoon, noting that the men did the same among themselves, resting in their tents or reclining in their camp chairs with their noses in books or their eyes on their phones.
As the afternoon gave way to evening, Chuck spotted Jimmy through the trees, talking with Alden at the front of the campground. The two disappeared beneath the sheet covering the tower, presumably to set the finesse-oriented route for Carmelita and Tara, the Berkeley climber, who was nowhere to be seen.
Chuck teamed with Janelle in preparing an early dinner of pasta and salad. With the start time for the competition approaching, Carmelita swirled noodles on a plate with her fork but didn’t lift any to her mouth.
“Climbing on an empty stomach won’t be a bad thing,” Chuck assured her. “You’ll regain your appetite when it’s over. You can eat something then.”
Rosie swung her feet below the bench seat of the picnic table and asked with her mouth full, “Are you nervous, Carm?”
Carmelita nodded.
Leaning across the table, Janelle rested her hand on her older daughter’s slender forearm. “It’s okay, baby. Nobody expected you to get this far. Just do your best.”
Carmelita nodded again, her eyes downcast.
“You’re gonna kill that lady climber, hermana,” Rosie declared. She made tearing motions with her hands. “You’re gonna rip her to shreds. Rip, rip, rip!”
“Rosie, please,” Janelle admonished.
But when Carmelita raised her head to glance at her sister, Chuck spotted a smile playing at the corners of her mouth.
Jimmy made no mention of Ponch’s death when he introduced himself and welcomed the gathered onlookers to the start of round four of the Slam a few minutes after eight, as evening shadows settled in the valley. Ponch’s fall was too fresh, too raw, Chuck decided, and Jimmy’s role in having proposed the prank that led to it too personal.
Chuck’s own shame burned like acid inside him. Why had he not pushed harder to stop last night’s escapade? If he’d kept at it until he convinced the others to abandon the prank, Ponch would still be alive.
The crowd of spectators, some standing, others seated in camp chairs, was triple the size of the gathering for yesterday’s opening rounds of the Slam. Juanita and other park concession workers were among the onlookers. YOSAR team members speckled the crowd, too, while Owen stood to one side, as he had the day before, the badge on his chest polished to a high sheen.
Spotlights on extended poles lit Jimmy and the climbing tower behind him, warding off the approaching darkness and providing a stage-like atmosphere for the conclusion of the competition.
Standing in front of the crowd at the foot of the tower’s billowy shroud, Jimmy spoke into a cordless microphone, another addition, along with the lights, to the closing rounds of the competition. He offered only a few subdued words of welcome, his voice issuing from speakers at the foot of the spotlight poles, and held out the microphone to Alden.
The tower attendant bounded to the base of the climbing wall, accepted the cordless mic from Jimmy, and turned to face the audience with a wide grin while Jimmy crutched away from the tower to stand in the crowd with Dale, Mark, Caleb, and Bernard. In true master-of-ceremonies fashion, Alden wore black slacks and a purple dress shirt beneath a black suit coat, the coat’s sleeves and those of the dress shirt rolled up his thick forearms. When he lifted his hand to wave at the spectators, the fitted coat rose and drew in at his sides, accentuating his broad shoulders and revealing his climbing harness, strapped over his slacks at his waist.
“Welcome!” he roared, his enthusiasm a stark contrast to Jimmy’s muted greeting. “I can’t believe how many of you have turned out for our competition tonight. Way more than we’ve ever had before. And I’ll tell you what, you’re in for a real treat this evening, starting with an intriguing one-on-one matchup on the women’s side of the bracket, on a route designed just for them.”
He put his hand to his eyes, shading the spotlights, and peered into the audience. “Ladies, come on up here, would you, please?”
Tara left the crowd and approached Alden. The two exchanged no words before she spun to face the spectators. After a nudge from Janelle, Carmelita snaked her way out of the crowd to Tara’s side and turned to the crowd as well.
Carmelita was dressed in the same T-shirt and loose leggings as yesterday. Tara again wore black, body-hugging tights low on her hips. She wore a different top, however, this one a skimpy sports bra with thin straps, cream-colored to match her tanned skin so that, from a distance, she appeared topless in the glare of the spotlights save for the ring glittering in her exposed belly button.
Tara shook out her long, golden hair and tossed it over her shoulder. Carmelita, a full head shorter, looked at her feet, her hands locked behind her back.
Chuck had spotted Tara when she’d pulled into Camp 4 an hour ago in an aging Ford Econoline van repurposed as a camper. While the sun descended behind El Capitan, she chatted with other climbers at the front of the campground, bending forward in deep stretches every once in a while. Chuck kept watch to see if she spoke with Alden—not that there was anything he could do about it. As best he could tell, though, the two did not converse during the lead-up to the competition, nor did he catch Tara sneaking a peak beneath the tower’s nylon sheet at the climbing route awaiting her and Carmelita.
Dwarfing the two female competitors beside him, Alden put the microphone to his mouth. “As many of you know,” he said, “today’s women rock climbers are among the best climbers, regardless of gender, on the planet. In the past, strength moves by big guys—” he bent one arm, stretching the fabric of his jacket as he showed off his bulging bicep “—were the primary way climbers sent the toughest routes. But today’s most difficult unconquered faces, with their fewer and tinier holds, require finesse moves rather than brute strength. That has led to skinny male climbers—unlike me—occupying the highest echelons of the climbing world, along with more and more female climbers.”
Alden cast a glance of obvious admiration at Tara and Carmelita.
“Which brings us to tonight,” he continued, “with world-renowned Tara Rogan from Berkeley, California, and the new kid on the block—and I do mean kid—twelve-year-old Carmelita Ortega from Durango, Colorado. Please join me in welcoming Tara and Carmelita back with us tonight.”
The crowd applauded as Alden directed a thumb over his shoulder at the covered tower.
“When I drop the sheet, I want all of you to notice how incredibly difficult this route will be for our contestants,” he said. “Jimmy and I believe the route we’ve set is one of the toughest ever placed in a climbing competition. Tara and Carmelita have fully recovered from yesterday’s rounds and are prepared to give the route their ultimate effort this evening, right out of the blocks.”
Alden dug a coin from his pocket. “We’ll flip to see who goes first,” he said. He proffered the coin in his palm to Tara and Carmelita for their inspection. “Tara, why don’t you call it?”
Alden held the microphone to her mouth.
“Tails,” Tara said.
“Tails it is,” Alden repeated into the mic.
He flipped the coin into the air and allowed it to fall to the ground. The three bent over it. Disappointment showed on Tara’s face when she straightened.
Alden announced, “It’s heads!” He turned to Carmelita. “What do you think? Do you want to go first?”
He reached past Tara to hold the microphone in front of Carmelita’s clamped lips. She stared at the coin, still lying on the ground.
Alden brought the mic back to his mouth and singsonged with a half-smile, “We’re wait-ing.”
Alden held the microphone to Carmelita’s mouth. She gulped. The noise, audible through the speakers, prompted laughter from the spectators.
“Um,” Carmelita said.
Tara bent and said something in Carmelita’s ear.
Carmelita raised her head to look at Tara, her hazel eyes wide open. “I’ll go last,” she said into the outthrust microphone.
Tara’s lips formed a rigid, white line. She scowled at Carmelita.
Alden brought the microphone back to his mouth and crowed to the audience, “All righty then! Tara will go first, and little Carmelita will follow.” He turned to the two of them. “I’ll give you a couple of minutes to make sure you’re all set before I ask you to make your way to the back of the tower together.”
Tara returned to the spectators. When Carmelita didn’t move, Alden gave her a gentle shove while he smiled at the onlookers. She took a stumbling step forward, then darted into the crowd, straight to Janelle’s side.
From the foot of the tower, Alden cried out, “Let’s hear it for day two, round four of this year’s Yosemite Sa-lammm!”
The spectators cheered. Chuck knelt and tightened the laces on Carmelita’s climbing shoes a final time. Rising, he helped her strap on her helmet and offered her a bottle of water. While she sipped, he put his mouth to her ear and asked, “What did Tara say to you?”
She replied so only he could hear. “She said I should go first to get it over with.”
Chuck grinned. “You’re one smart girl, you know that?” He lifted his fist and she bumped it with her own.
On the opposite side of the crowd, Tara drank out of a bottle, wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, and wormed her way from among the gathered onlookers, heading for Alden and the sheet-covered wall.
Alden edged sideways, placing himself squarely in Tara’s path to the back of the tower. He raised a hand and smiled, prepared, it seemed, to exchange pleasantries with her as she passed him on her way around the climbing wall. But the dark gleam in his eyes indicated he had more to offer her than mere good wishes.
Chuck wormed his way forward, elbowing people aside, as Tara neared Alden. The tower attendant lowered his chin when she came within a step of him, his face shaded from the spotlights. He opened his mouth to speak at the same instant Chuck broke from the front of the crowd, thirty feet away.
“Yo,” Chuck called out.
Alden jerked visibly and raised his head to stare at Chuck.
Chuck hustled forward. “I’ve got something I want to ask.”
At Alden’s side, Tara observed Chuck’s approach, her eyes glistening with unconcealed animosity beneath the brim of her helmet.
“What is it?” Alden asked, his face hard.
“What about—” Chuck hesitated as he worked to come up with a question. “What about Carmelita’s belay? Are you still okay with me doing it?”
Alden clenched his jaw, the muscles at the sides of his face rippling. “Tell you what,” he said as Chuck stopped before him. “Just to make sure everything’s above board, I think I’ll belay both climbers.” Alden turned to Tara. “How’s that sound to you?”
“Whatever you think,” she said with a shrug.
Chuck shrugged, too, feigning nonchalance. “Sure,” he said, having no choice but to agree.
The three faced each other in silence.
When Chuck made no move to return to the crowd, Tara rolled her helmeted head around her shoulders, her silky hair shining behind her. “I guess I’ll go on back so you can do your unveiling,” she said to Alden.
She rounded the tower to the vehicle-filled parking lot. Chuck motioned to Carmelita. Leaving her mother’s side, she edged through the crowd.
“All set?” Chuck asked her when she reached him and Alden at the foot of the tower.
She nodded once, a slight tip of her chin.
“Go get ’em,” he urged her.
She ducked her head and disappeared behind the tower.
Chuck faced Alden. “I’m looking forward to seeing what you’ve got in store for them.”
“You and everybody else,” Alden said, his voice cold. “Now, if you’ll excuse me.”
Chuck returned to Janelle’s side in the audience. Alden untied the rope holding the nylon shroud in place.
“Three! Two! One!” he counted down into the microphone for the benefit of the onlookers, his voice once again animated.
He released the line, allowing the sheet to fall to the ground. The spectators murmured breathlessly to one another as they studied the route.
At first glance, and second and third, the new route looked impossible to Chuck. Alden and Jimmy had gone with extreme minimalism, placing only a handful of holds on the wall. Sizable blank spaces pocked the tower from bottom to top, the first only a few feet off the ground. The few holds bolted into place were small and sloped outward, providing little purchase for fingers or toes.
“Dios mío,” Janelle muttered at Chuck’s side.
“Pretty outrageous,” he agreed, his voice low. “But it might favor Carmelita. She’s lighter than Tara. Instead of a multi-hold route that requires experience to recognize the best solutions along the way, this is all about what’s not there. It’s like the routes with the blank spaces from yesterday, only more so.” He aimed a finger at the largest blank spot on the tower. “Like that space there, two-thirds of the way up.”
Even as he pointed out the large blank space to Janelle, something about it caught his eye. He squinted at it, then exhaled sharply.
29
A tiny, dark circle showed near the bottom of the blank space. The circle, little more than a speck against the fiberglass wall, was far too small to be a climbing hold. It sat in line with other specks, slightly lighter in color, that together formed a horizontal border across the convex face of the wall. Chuck recognized the specks as the heads of screws securing one of the rounded fiberglass wall panels in place on the tower. The darker speck was a single loosened screw head in the middle of the line of screws.
It appeared Alden had rotated the head of the screw out of the wall just enough to provide purchase to the toe of a climbing shoe worn by anyone aware of the screw’s slight extension. The loosened screw cast a slightly greater shadow on the wall than the heads of the other screws, enough to catch Chuck’s suspicious eye, but almost certainly not enough to catch the attention of anyone else, Tara and Carmelita included. Chuck could only hope his hurried approach to the tower a few minutes ago had precluded Alden’s attempt to tell Tara about the extended screw head.
“We’re ready for you, Tara,” Alden called around the tower, the microphone to his mouth. His amplified voice echoed across the campground from the speakers.
Tara emerged from the back of the forty-foot-high structure. She gazed at the wall, her eyes tracking from bottom to top, as she dug her hands into the chalk bag slung from the harness at her waist. Alden set the microphone on the ground, attached the climbing rope to Tara’s harness, and backed away from the wall. He gripped the opposite end of the rope, which ran through the belay device attached to his own harness.
Tara shot a joking look of consternation at Alden, then directed the same look at Jimmy, perched on his crutches at the front of the crowd. He released the crutches’ grips and turned his hands palms up. The spectators chuckled.
Tara turned her back on him, her hair below her helmet shimmering in the spotlights. She stood unmoving, inches from the wall. The crowd quieted as she raised herself on her toes and lifted her arms from her sides like a high diver, her hands outstretched.
Grasping the lowest holds on the tower, Tara hoisted herself off the ground. She moved upward slowly, working her way from one widely spaced hold to the next, her muscles tensed. Within a minute, her breaths came in harsh gasps.
Chuck bit down on the inside of his cheek as Ta
ra extended her hand blindly above her head to find a particularly tiny hold with her outstretched fingers. She tugged herself upward, overcoming a sizable blank space at the halfway point on the wall, and continued her painstaking climb until she reached the largest of the blank spaces—the one offering purchase on the loosened screw head to anyone in the know.
Chuck glanced back and forth between Tara and Alden as Tara hesitated at the bottom of the blank space, her fingers kinked where she clung to sloped holds. She leaned back, studying the gap and the small hold placed at its top.
Alden stared at her from the foot of the tower, his brake hand gripping the rope at his waist.
Tara shot her right hand upward and pushed off from her toeholds. She stretched her trim body full out, reaching for the hold bolted above the blank spot, her face to the wall. At the same instant, unnoticed by the audience, Alden gave the climbing rope a brisk yank through his belay device with his brake hand. The sudden tug took up all the slack in the rope at once, providing Tara an extra bit of upward momentum as she leapt up the tower. Her fingers caught the hold at the top of the large gap and she pulled herself upward with an audible grunt. Again, Alden tugged downward on his end of the rope, continuing to aid Tara’s ascent while the spectators’ eyes were on Tara, high above.
Clinging with her right hand to the hold above the blank spot, Tara shot her left hand to a second hold at the top of the space. Alden took up the new bit of slack in the rope with another tug, helping Tara as she fought to hold her place on the wall.
The champion woman climber lifted herself higher on the two tiny holds. Her feet scrabbled for traction on the blank stretch of wall. Here, Chuck knew, was where knowledge of the extended screw head would come in handy. But, he noted with satisfaction, neither of Tara’s toes, sliding on the fiberglass surface, came anywhere near the loosened screw. Instead, her feet continued to fight for purchase until she let out a sharp breath and her fingers slipped from the holds above the blank space, causing her to fall away from the wall.
The rope, taut from Alden’s braking device to Tara’s harness, caught her after she dropped only a few inches. She swung from the stanchion extending from the top of the tower, her head down, cursing under her breath. Finally, she placed her feet on the wall and walked backward down the tower as Alden lowered her to the ground.