by Lorraine Ray
“You mean we have to get onto that fucking ledge?”
I stand looking in disgust at a narrow shelf of rock which leads to a higher canyon.
“Yes, that’s it! That’s the one,” Oliver says eagerly. “We’re almost there! The gold is in the little canyon there.” He urges me on with a sweeping gesture and lurches forward. This crazy old guy with one good leg is planning to go up on that narrow ledge!
“But we gotta go up that ledge there! The one that is nearly vertical where the rocks are black?”
“That’s it. That’s the one. We’re almost there, buddy. That’s a vein of black ore which is what my friend mentioned. It’s there,” he says cheerfully. “That’s what the man said. I remember it well. The whole thing jives perfectly. I tell you I’m seeing the signs.”
“Around that steep side of the mountain? From here?” I ask incredulously. “I thought you said it wouldn’t take any ropes to get where the gold was. We can’t go on that ledge without ropes. I’m sorry we’re on this ledge. It’s gonna take ropes for sure to go out there safely.”
“It won’t. A little side step and a shuffle,” says the old dip-shit goofily. “A real simple little side step is all. Damn, we’ve almost made it!”
“Are you fucking crazy? That slope is vertical. I wouldn’t go there without ropes if you paid me a million dollars. I don’t even feel safe standing here. This ledge is unsafe.” I look at the steep way he has come, following the old man’s guidance and now I wish I had never agreed to go gold hunting.
“Ba-Bak? Cheap, cheap, chicken?” says Oliver making his arms fold in the form of wings and pawing the air with his good leg like a rooster. “Brawk, brawk, brawk!”
I glare at him coldly.
I’ll say nothing. Say absolutely fucking nothing. That’s the best thing to do right now.
Oliver smiles. “Watch me, pollo. Watch an old one-legged guy get to the gold on his own. I’ll cut you out. That’s what I’ll do. I’ll cut you out of what I find. You are no longer my partner.”
“You fucking idiot retard! Why did I ever listen to your stupid fucking story?”
I advance toward him with my hands itching to strangle Oliver’s scrawny fucking neck. I’d had it with him and his taunting. The stupid dumb-ass. This idiot had brought me out there to show me a ledge where I can break my neck!
“You—” Oliver says, realizing I mean business and am coming for him. “Leave me alone. I’ll find the gold myself!”
The old fool steps backwards on his good leg and tries to scuttle away up the ledge! What has he gotten us into? This ledge is too dangerous. The old fool doesn’t seem to realize what he is trying to do is impossible. Without ropes, no one can scale that height.
Oliver struggles to climb a few feet, wobbles, swings his arms around and comes back to where I stand. “Dammit!” he cries.
Oliver shuffles away from me toward the higher ledge one more time.
“Hey, be careful!” I shout this and try to grab the old man when I see him floundering. The rocks crumbles at Oliver’s feet and he falls suddenly down the embankment partway.
Oh, crap! I watch Oliver sliding down the steep back of the mountain, rocks slamming his shoulders and head. His arms beat the air uselessly, helplessly. No more silly chicken dancing— his flapping is desperate now.
The old man is falling further through space under Kneeling Nun Rock and hitting the rocks with a whomp, whomp, whomp.
What? What’s—
I go down! Next I go down as more of the ledge snaps off before I can even think of what to do. Before I can think of stepping back.
“Help! Help me!” I cry. To no one.