Blind Descent

In the swaying shadows she could see Frieda's face. The shield had become detached from her helmet on one side. A

"I killed you," A

"We're almost there," came Iverson's voice. "Take it easy."

"I killed her," A

8

With the gift of light, A

"Crushed esophagus," A

In this instance McCarty echoed A

She moved back, making room for him. Lines weaving through gear and metal tied A

"She's gone," Dr. McCarty said. "There was too much trauma. The spine may have been snapped."

An involuntary shudder rattled A

Arms went around her. Hands removed her helmet. Fingers stroked her hair. A voice murmured in her ear. Still, she could not stem the tide of emotion. Grief she could have borne with silence if not dignity; she'd done it before. Pain she could carry without undue complaint. Even the shock and the fear might have been tenable. It was the helplessness that unma

"I'm going to give her a sedative," she heard Peter say. From the movement against the top of her head she realized it was he who held her.

"Not till we're out of here and have camp set up," Oscar returned. "She needs all her wits about her for the climb out."

They spoke as if she wasn't there. With her tears she had abdicated. At least in the minds of men. They didn't understand tears; the difference between giving up and stepping down for a moment, collapsing and crying "I can't go on," then, refreshed, lifting one's burdens and pressing onward.

A

"I'm okay," she growled. An untimely case of the hiccups robbed her statement of its force. "Just a bad patch there. Frieda-" Tears yet unspent rose in her throat and eyes. A

"Dead," Peter repeated.

"Can we get out of here?" A

"I don't know," Oscar said. Peter turned his head to listen. His light fell on Iverson and A

Seeing him this way could have further demoralized her. Oddly it had the opposite effect. Had he been a paragon of strength, she might have been tempted to fall apart and let him pick up the pieces. Recognizing his humanity brought to the fore a playground sense of justice. It wouldn't be fair to fall apart. It wouldn't be kosher to make him carry her load.

"Okay," she said. Given the context, the word was meaningless. She intended only to buy herself a little time, to indicate she heard and understood, that she could be relied on. Whether the last was true or not, she didn't know.

With meticulous attention to detail, proving to someone-herself, probably-that she was still a viable member of the team, A

Distracted, he didn't press her. He asked questions about her and Frieda's fall but was easily satisfied. They had yet to hear what had occurred up near the rockfall. The doctor might have his work cut out for him. A

He and Oscar had rappelled down using two short lines Oscar had been carrying to rig the ascent at the end of the Pigtail. They anchored to a formation that grew out of the wall above like a petrified rhinoceros horn. A

Peter worked in grim silence. Understanding A

"Peter and I were right above you and Frieda," he said. "We heard that… that noise… and looked up. Something let loose in the pile of rock up by the Distributor Cap. I heard it more than saw it. Kind of a weird shift in the shadows, but I could tell it was coming down. I think it started off small. Then a ton of rock hit the boulder we'd anchored you guys into. It must have shifted."

That would have been the first short drop.

"I thought that was it, but something big got torn out," Oscar went on.

The second grinding.

"The anchor boulder hopped. I mean hopped," he said. "Like it had come to life. It staggered, rocked backward, then hopped, hit the bridge, and went down."

A

"After that the dust got so bad I had to turn away, put my arm over my face. Didn't see much for a while."