Page 2 of Nothing But Air

Of course. All honey and sunshine for Xander.

Liam caught his expression and smirked. “You know your eye twitches when he talks, right?”

“Shut up.”

“Just saying. It’s very subtle. Barely noticeable.”

“I’m ignoring you.” Teague yanked his harness on, fingers moving through the double-back on the waist belt and leg loops. One buckle. Two. Snug against his hips. He didn’t have his helmet, but they hadn’t set out for a climb this morning. It was supposed to be a routine trail check. Good thing he always kept the basics in his pack.

He pressed the radio hard enough to whiten his thumb. “Dispatch, recommend helicopter standby, but I don’t think we have time.”

“Negative on helicopter. Closest bird is forty-three minutes out. Had to make a run to Flagstaff with a cardiac event at North Rim.”

“Then we’re primary.” Teague tested the harness, yanking on the belay loop. Solid. “A crack system runs horizontal about fifteen feet to my right. I can traverse across, climb to his position.”

Liam raised his binoculars again, then lowered them with a sharp exhale. “That crack dead-ends at twenty feet. After that, blank face. And have you noticed that ridge drops away in that section? That has to be over a hundred-foot drop below.”

“I’ll jump to that hold.” He pointed to a shaded area he hoped was solid. “I’ll be anchored. So thirty or a hundred makes no difference.”

“Jump? If you miss the grab, that anchor won’t do much but swing you into that wall.”

“Then I won’t miss.”

“That’s eight feet and one chance to grab it. Eight.”

“I can count.”

“Can you fly?”

“Guess we’ll find out.” He keyed the mic. “Dispatch, I’ll need to make a dynamic move to reach the subject.”

Eden’s response was immediate. “Define ‘dynamic.’”

“Eight-foot gap between last hold and his position.”

“That’s not dynamic; that’s a leap. Completely uncontrolled?—”

“Controlled enough.”

“He is also failing to mention that those eight feet stretch over a break in the terrain that drops a hundred feet to the next ridge. And with the way the rock angles, his last anchor point will swing him directly into the rock face.” Liam met his gaze and held it. “And he doesn’t have his helmet.”

“Teague.” Her voice dropped the professional polish. “An eight-foot gap means you need at least ten feet of rope. If you miss, you will hit the wall at over fifteen miles an hour. Without a helmet, we’re talking about more than a few broken bones. We’re talking about a possible brain injury.”

“I’m talking about the only option that gets to him in time.”

“She’s going to kill you,” Liam muttered beside him.

Teague pressed the radio again. “Eden. I can make this.”

Silence stretched across the channel. Three seconds. Four. Five.

When she spoke again, something raw edged her words. “South Rim, your read?”

Xander’s response came quickly. “Subject’s deteriorating fast. Jackhammer leg on both sides now. Maybe five—ten minutes max before gravity wins.”

“Less,” Teague said. “I’m making the approach. Placing anchors as I go.”

“Wait.” Eden’s voice sharpened. “If the hold breaks…if you miss?—”