Page 90 of When the Silence Breaks

You aren’t going to argue your way out of this.“Just wide enough for us to squeeze through. It’s a natural skylight, collapsed inward from a previous rockslide or avalanche.”

His muscles screamed. His shoulder burned like fire from the recent bullet. Back throbbed where the snow had slammed into him as he dove into the cave. Still, he climbed.

Foothold. Handhold. Foothold. Handhold.

Breath by ragged breath.

But none of it—not the ice, the stone, the fire of his wounds—hurt as much as the memories tearing through his chest, clawing at his barely healed wound. He’d been here in this place before, and this was one more desperate scramble to outrun the past.

Once they could climb out and arrive up top, Ryder knew how to get them back. He would avoid traversing across the avalanche debris field. That was too risky, too hazardous, and he couldn’t risk taking them through the cave, even if he could dig their way out of snow and ice and probably rocks too. No, this was the right way. He’d ...seen the light.

He had to trust God was directing his path. He’d prayed. He’d asked. He’d trusted. What more could he do? If only the images didn’t fly at him now.

The look on Dad’s face. The regret, and still ... the love, the forgiveness ... as he fell to his death.

Ryder tried to push away the torment as he climbed closer to the last place he’d seen his father. But the memory was alive in his mind now, as if he was there in that moment. In his mind’s eye, the images slammed him as if through a tunnel of ice—clear and focused.

Dad’s voice had crackled over the radio, breaking in and out. “The anchor’s loose ... shelf’s shifting—Dean, get him back!”

Ryder sprinted, lungs burning, boots thudding over packed snow, then through the cave where they’d traversed to search for the fallen man. Ryder had climbed up and out, and finally he reached the scene—late, always late—after leading another group out of the backcountry.

The helicopter couldn’t reach them—not with the weather, the altitude, no place to land. A hundred reasons. A million.

And time...

Time had never been on their side. Why had Dean let Dad step out there?Why wasn’t I there sooner?

Dean had the hiker half dragged to safety, but Dad—

Dad was still out there. The ice shelf groaned, spiderweb cracks racing beneath his father’s feet as he worked the carabiner, trying to free the stuck rope.

“Dad!” Ryder’s voice tore from his throat. “Leave it! Get back!”

Their eyes locked across the distance.

Ryder ripped a coil of rope from his shoulder, hands fumbling with the frozen line. “Just hold there, Dad. Wait for me!”

His father gave a faint, crooked smile—so much love in his eyes, it hollowed Ryder out. “It’s okay, son. I love you.”

“What are you talking about? No! I’m getting you out!” Ryder staggered closer, the ice shuddering beneath his boots. He hurled the rope and missed. Tried again. The crack split the air, sharp as the report of a rifle.

His father didn’t flinch.

He just ... let go.

And Ryder had been helpless—no hero, no savior. Just a man replaying that day a thousand times, drowning in everything he should have done differently.

Breathless with climbing, and maybe more from the memories, he paused and leaned into the wall. Squeezed his eyes shut. Released a calming breath.

“Ryder? You okay?” Sarah’s voice broke through his pain, soft and reassuring.

Beneath him, she climbed up like he had asked, following his lead. Grabbing the same foot- and handholds. If he didn’t want her to fall, he’d better focus.

“Sure. Good. You?”

“Yeah. Let’s get this over with.”

He agreed. Over with. He needed closure. He, too, needed to let go.