“If I make it, you owe me dinner,” she said.
“When you make it, I’ll take you to Rome. I’ll even spring for two rooms so you won’t have to share one with me.”
Deb looked into his eyes, saw trust and acceptance and obvious affection, and decided that he wouldn’t need a separate room.
“Deal,” she said.
Then she put on the mountain climbing legs. Unlike the Cheetah’s, which were curved, these were L shaped, more like a regular leg and foot. But at the toe were rubber balls with tiny metal spikes sticking out of them. Supposedly for good grip and traction. She didn’t know for sure, because the only time she’d ever worn them was during her fitting.
Deb pressed the suction button, sucking out the air from the stump cups so they adhered to her skin. It hurt, but better dealing with pain than dealing with one slipping off.
Mal held out his hand and helped her up. When she found her balance he continued to hold her.
“You can do it,” he said.
She nodded, let out a slow breath, and stared at the mountain.
It seemed to have gotten even bigger.
Deb gently disengaged from Mal, then hobbled over to the mountainside. The legs were crap to walk in, but one she got her first toehold they performed as advertised.
She hugged the mountain closely, embracing it, becoming a part of it. She didn’t look down. Didn’t look up. She looked in the moment, for the next hand grip, the next foot position, the next stable rest point. After a dozen feet up, she found the seam she’d used to get to the shelf, and climbed it just as well as she did when she had legs.
It was all so automatic, all so comfortable, that Deb almost forgot her fear.
Then she reached the angled face. The one she slid off of. And Deb froze.
I remember sliding down this. I remember the terror. I remember the certainty I’d die. I remember hating myself for making such a stupid mistake.
But most of all, I remember the pain when I fell.
“You can do it!” Mal called from below.
Can I? Can I really?
Maybe I can.
Gritting her teeth, Deb hoisted herself onto the sheer face. The angle didn’t seem very steep. That’s why she’d been so cocksure before.
Deb reached up, found a tiny protruding nub, and latched her fingers onto it.
One inch at a time, she pulled herself up that shelf. She always made sure at least two limbs had good grips. It was slow going, but effective. She was getting close to reaching a bunch of bushes jutting from the rockface. Once there, she could rest for a minute. Then it would be a pretty easy climb up to the ranger station.
Two feet away now.
Eighteen inches.
A foot.
Deb reached up, ready to grasp a crooked branch, to test to see if it would hold her weight.
The crooked branch moved.
Deb’s jaw dropped.
That’s not a branch.
I know what that is.
It’s a tail.
A crooked tail.
The tail swished, and then moved away. It was replaced by a triangular head and two golden eyes.
The cougar.
The cougar with the zigzag tail.
The same one that almost killed me when I fell.
She gasped.
Jesus Christ. It’s come back to finish the job.
And then Deb lost her grip and began to slide down the face of the mountain.
# # #
“Hey! Boy! Y’all think you a squirrel, hidin’ up in that tree?”
Felix opened his eyes to a world of pain.
His fingers. His head. His ribs. His hips. His back. Just about every square inch of him hurt. Breathing hurt. Moving hurt. Even thinking hurt.
Plus, he was in a tree.
He looked around, saw he was wedged in the V of a big oak. It was bright outside, the morning sun blinding, and Felix’s memories of last night were hazy. But he did recall the cougar, tugging him by his shirt collar, pulling until Felix couldn’t breathe anymore.
I must have passed out, and he stashed me in this tree.
Felix knew that other big cats often dragged their prey into trees to keep it from other predators and scavengers. Apparently mountain lions did too.
“I’m talkin’ to ya, boy!”
The tree shook. Felix chanced a look down. Though he’d only seen him before in silhouette, he recognized Ulysses, the tow truck driver. The large man was prettier in the dark. His large, squarish head had a nose that was crooked by about forty-five degrees, making it look like it wasn’t completely screwed on. His eyes were also uneven, one higher than the other. He resembled a Picasso.
Ulysses beat the tree trunk with his crowbar once more.
“I been looking all god dang night for y’all. Getcher ass down here, boy.”
Felix didn’t think that was a good idea. In fact, he was content to stay up here for the rest of his life. Felix was at least ten feet high, and Ulysses was far too big to climb up after him.
“’Kay. You asked for it.”
The big man waddled off. Felix wondered what he was going to do.
Light the tree on fire? Chop it down?
The giant returned with a long length of chain. He wrapped it around the tree trunk and secured it with a heavy padlock.
“Tim-ber, asshole.”
Then Felix watched him walk over to his truck.
Oh, no.
Felix stared down at the ground. A painful drop if he was completely healthy. In his current condition, the fall would be intolerable.
But it beats being dragged behind a tow truck.
Ulysses gunned his engine. Felix realized that the longer he waited, the less courage he would have, so he pressed his mangled hands against the branch, whimpered at the pain in his ribs as he unwedged himself, and then plummeted to earth.
Hitting the ground was like falling into hell. The pain reached such dizzying heights that it was all he could think about, the only sensation he felt.
Then there was a tremendous cracking sound, like the world was breaking in half, and Felix opened his bleary eyes and saw the tree splitting at the base, dropping down on top of him.
His last remnants of survival instinct kicked in, and Felix rolled away before he was crushed, momentum taking him down into a ditch filled with high grass as the tree was tugged past.
Made it. They haven’t killed me yet.
He was dimly aware of the fallen tree slowing down and coming to a stop, and a truck door slamming shut. Ulysses was coming to inspect his work.
Gotta get up. Gotta get away.
Miraculously, Felix made it to his feet. He kept low, stumbling past Ulysses as the large man assessed the damage he’d done.
“Where in the heck are ya, boy?”
You want to know where I am? I’m getting into your truck, asshole.
The door handle gave Felix some trouble. The gearshift was even harder. But he was so used to being in pain at this point that a little more didn’t matter.
He hit the accelerator and slammed the tow truck into reverse, backing over Ulysses before the giant even had a chance to turn around. Felix’s head bounced against the top of the cab as the rear tire rolled over the bastard’s body. Not willing to take any chances, Felix stomped on the clutch, shifted into first gear, and ran Ulysses over again, dragging him a dozen yards. Then he tugged on the emergency brake and got out to see the carnage.
And carnage there was. All that was left of Ulysses was a mashed leg and an impressive length of intestines, stretching out at least twenty feet.