Freefall

By Brandon LeValley

Once Henry awakens to the startling reality that his fall has left him too deep for rescue, the grip of death soon overtakes him. His own reckoning becomes pitted against the unforgiving elements of the mountain and a truth he now discovers all too bitter to swallow. Meanwhile, once his nephew learns of his uncle’s fate, tries to convince a reluctant lead climber to form a search party. But Fernando already knows what Peter is unwilling to accept. Desperate on all levels, their lives depend on a carefully orchestrated climb and where the slightest misstep could find them plunging several thousand feet. In spite of this, they forge ahead and Fernando’s history only complicates matters as they get closer to the summit and are about to face the ultimate test.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Brandon LeValley
• Release date: Sep 19, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301242870

Brandon LeValley

Brandon LeValley is a freelance writer living in Walla Walla Washington. He recently moved back to his home town after living in Phoenix, San Diego and Palm Desert. He earned a Bachelor of Arts degree at WSU. Along with a passion for writing he is also an avid photographer and loves spending time with his family. In writing fiction he finds that characters facing insurmountable challenges the most fascinating. How they react under these circumstances and the tension created by their dialogue becomes the heart of a good story.

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Freefall

Copyright © 2013 by Brandon LeValley

Smashwords Edition

All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form—mechanically, electronically, or by any other means, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system—without permission in writing from the author.

Contents

Title Page

Copyright

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Freefall

Henry Gunderson awoke to an impregnable darkness, and so cold it cut through him like a knife. He tried to move, but discovered his legs had been pinned back and were covered under a pile of powdered ice. When he reached to brush it away, he felt the warmth of his blood where the pick end of his ice axe was buried in his upper arm. The point nearly poked through his bicep like a kabob as its weight pulled on his skin. A flood of emotion welled up inside him. With his arm already throbbing, the rest of his body was so twisted over he could barely move. For an instant he relived the fall—the sheer panic he felt when he fell away from the surface, or when he caught a cleat in the wall and it sent him cartwheeling deeper into the crevasse. When one of the walls curved back under him, every awkward angle of his body fought the hardened and unforgiving surface of the ice. He yelled for Nicholas, who he had dragged down with him, but his cries were useless as his voice echoed from what he discovered was a deep, expansive cavern.

While freeing the other ice axe strapped to his wrist, he slowly extended his legs so he could pull up on the safety rope tied to his partner. Henry thought if he could draw on it hard enough, he might get Nicholas’s attention. After several tugs with his good arm, he heard nothing. Since Nicholas had been behind him, he twisted around to face him, careful about the ice pick dangling from his arm like some awkward appendage, every movement sending a sharp, searing pain.

He eventually gave the rope another heave to sit upright, then released the rope and gathered some slack in it to create a loop. The weight from his partner provided just enough pressure to strengthen a knot behind the loop once Henry jerked on it a couple times. He then fed it through the spring trap in one of the carabiners attached to his waist harness. Securing himself this way, he was able to pull his backpack in front of him and shuffle through its contents looking for his flashlight. It only served to reveal the seriousness of his injury once he flipped it on and exposed a large, red stain haloed in the ice beneath him.

After setting the flashlight in one of the backpack’s pockets, he directed it at his injured arm, then grabbed two rolls of gauze and stuffed a length of rope in his mouth. Before pulling out the pick, he got a firm grip around the head of the axe. And in an act that instantly sent him reeling, he yanked it from his arm. His left leg kicked the ice violently while he ground his teeth into the rope. Clutching the wound with his right hand, he rocked back and forth until he fell to his back.

Finally, the rope dropped from his mouth and the flashlight, kicked loose by his convulsions, fell to the ice, left there to shine off in the darkness. His clouded breath caught the beam in front of him and dissipated its penetrating light with each exhalation. His heavy panting exaggerated the intermittent lighting of his entombment.

His hand was of little use as blood ran between his fingers. The gaping hole left by the pick quickly pooled. Using his teeth, he ripped at the packaging of two butterfly bandages and stretched them across the wound with his good hand, then drew enough gauze from one of the rolls to wrap it around the arm several times before putting one end back in his teeth to tear in half. He then used the two ends to tie it off on the backside of his arm. It wasn’t long before the bandages turned red.

He shook as he reached for the flashlight. Once he had it, he traced the rope with its beam. Nicholas was still too far away, so he pulled the rope with his good arm and scooted toward him. It was instantly obvious why he hadn’t heard from Nicholas once he saw his head twisted over. Henry reached across his shoulders to rotate it back into position. Oh, Nicholas, he said, shaking his head. He pulled Nicholas’s hood over him and zipped it closed. Because his body had become so disjointed from the fall, Henry straightened him and then stepped over him to straddle his body. Facing him this way, it was easier to place each hand so they overlapped his heart. Henry then made the sign of the cross by motioning his hand to the top of his head and to both shoulders before turning away. As much as he felt responsible for his friend’s death, he had to face his own chances. A strong wind could hide their tracks on the surface, obliterating any possibility the trailing parties would recognize their fall and abrupt disappearance. He was already unnerved by the haunting howl of the wind as it caught the opening to the crevasse. It suddenly occurred to him he wasn’t likely to make it out.

To keep focused, he stood in spite of what he imagined was limited headroom, then slapped his pants to free the remaining ice. He knew once it melted it could seep into his clothing. If he knew anything, it was to stay dry and warm. He began running in place while applying pressure to his bad arm. In spite of