Running:
Only once have I attempted mountain climbing. Thanks Heather and Phil!
Writing:
Thanks to one of my High School English teacher (sorry I can't remember her name) for seeing a spark of talent in me and encouraging me to write. Thank you also to my college English professors, one of which asked me to seek publishing one of my papers. Also, thanks to many others who have encouraged me. Writing tip: listen to others. If they say you've got a spark or fire, trust them and run with it. And if they don't, then work with what you've got until something smolders.
Climbing ropes photo source: Google Images
Tip: Never go over an edge without a rope. (I know that applies in many areas of life, not just on a mountain side.)
Secrets at Midnight
Leona Palmer Haag
Chapter 35
Jenn awoke to predawn
stillness and eerie silence. She lay awake for several minutes before creeping
from bed to peek over the railing. Matt's blanket and sheet were folded and
sitting on the sofa. His shoes and backpack were missing. She tiptoed down the
stairs and read the note: Blind. I’ll return for lunch.
Jenn raced up the
stairs, pulled on her clothes and threw essentials into Katie's diaper bag. She
changed her baby and dressed her. She raced downstairs and grabbed the last
banana, a box of cereal and other miscellaneous things to eat. Amazed Matt
hadn’t taken her gun and ammunition, she wedged them deep inside the diaper
bag. She threw the diaper bag over her shoulder, grabbed the backpack with
holes in the bottom from the back deck and raced to the closet. The old coat
hung to the side of the secret door. She hung jackets on the hooks, then inched
the secret door open. They remained in place. Clinging to the ladder, her baby
in her arms and bags slung over her shoulders, she inched the door shut before
descending into darkness.
A thin crack of gray
light in the far wall revealed what Jenn had discovered while exploring—another
secret door not more than fifteen inches square. She pulled it open and
surveyed her exit route—the ravine.
“Katie, we’re going
for a ride,” Jenn whispered, closing the tiny door and backing away. “But
first, I need ropes.” She pawed through a tangled pile until she found what she
wanted—something resembling the lines Monica had used when they’d gone
rappelling. Katie sat in the dirt and played while she worked.
Wiggling through the
small opening with her few supplies, Jenn balanced on the precipice. Wooziness
engulfed her and she clutched her stomach to hold last night’s dinner in place,
thankful she’d skipped breakfast. She tied a knot and returned to the dark cellar.
She placed Katie in the backpack with holes—the one she’d realized was made for
carrying a child—and wedged her in with a blanket, a towel and a poncho. She
strapped her down with bungee cords. If the straps failed and Katie tumbled to
her death, Jenn had decided during the dark hours of night that she'd let go of
the rope and plunge to her death to join her daughter.
Closing the secret
door behind them, Jenn turned to the ropes and tested her knots, knowing if
Monica were there she'd tell her she hadn’t done it right. But she couldn't
remember all the details Monica had shown her—just the screaming. She looked
heavenward and said, “If we fall to our death, it's your fault Monica
Jensen—for not taking me repelling enough to get it right.”
The clouds above made
no reply, which suited her. If Matt’s gorgeous wife were dead, she’d be in a
fiery place putting demons through their paces, not plucking a harp.
Grasping the rope,
Jenn eased over the edge, pushing pinecones, twigs and dead leaves over the
line behind her, hoping to conceal it. Sure her trail was disguised as best as
possible, she inched further into the ravine. A rock loosened at her feet and
tumbled, then somersaulted over the edge. A very long time elapsed before she
heard it crash far below and bounce several times. Then silence. It had either
stopped, or a steeper cliff lay beyond.
Jenn inched further
down. A second rock joined the first. For a brief moment she imagined her life
following suite—free falling before plunging into silence. Unlike the rock,
she’d probably scream until the end.
“This is fun, Katie,”
Jenn whispered as they angled more sharply downward. She sweet-talked nonsense
hoping to keep her daughter from wailing, filling the ravine with piercing
echoes. Katie grunted in reply and fell silent, and thankfully, held perfectly
still, keeping them balanced.
The descent was
grueling and the rope gave out before the mountain ended. Jenn wedged her knees
on a narrow ledge, banished terror from her heart, and released her grip as she
began clinging to roots and branches instead. Terrified, she inched down a rock
crevice toward safer ground. Sweat poured from her chin and her fingers
blistered from grasping at roots and rocks to steady herself and her precious
load.
Before she normally
ate breakfast, Jenn Washington found a secure enough ledge to sit on and took
off the climbing gear. She pulled Katie close, surprised they’d survived.
“Don’t giggle next time we rappel through hell,” she teased.
After a handful of
Cheerios—the reward for surviving—they continued downward. Now Katie
wiggled and kicked, tried to grab hand-holds imitating her mother, and in
general threw them off balance as Jenn fought for their lives. Jenn found two
long sticks and used them to help keep them balanced and from tumbling to their
deaths. When Katie jerked unexpectedly she dropped one and it fell over a
cliff. Jenn’s stomach revolted, but miraculously the contents stayed in place.
After carefully picking her way over ledges and down loose scree, past boulders
and through steep crevices, Katie fell asleep.
Jenn continued,
despite a skinned ankle, a scraped elbow and a badly banged thigh.
The sun reached into
the ravine the same time Jenn’s feet touched solid ground—not the bottom, but a
gentle slope leading toward a narrow valley littered with fallen trees and
house-sized boulders. She found what Matt had described as a game trail and
moved along it as quickly as possible searching for the overgrown logging road.
Soon Matt would return to the cabin and find her missing. Bad luck said he’d
find the opening in the cellar and discover the ropes. Good luck said she had
disappeared unnoticed. She couldn’t count on anything good.
Despite her heavy
load, Jenn hiked all day. The sun pounded down, interrupted occasionally by
billowy clouds. Mosquitoes lunched on her neck and feasted on Katie’s cheeks.
The fear of Matt drove her forward with few breaks. She hiked for Katie—for
life—never fully stopping and never sitting.
Dark streaks filled
the sky when Jenn halted by a stream and released her load. She scooped up
water for her and Katie inside an empty juice pouch. “This will probably kill
us, but we'll die of dehydration if we don't drink,” she said. She coaxed the
cold liquid to Katie's lips, then drank her fill, draining the pouch several
times.
There was no clear
direction to go, one animal track crossing another and back again, but she
lifted her daughter to her back and stumbled on choosing each step based on ease
because the world around them had transformed into a circling maze.
Deep silvery gray
light lingered well into the night before full darkness reigned, speckled with
diamonds strung overhead. Jenn collapsed and lowered Katie. She pulled her from
the pack and wrapped the towel around her own shoulders and the blanket around
Katie. Terrifying blackness engulfed them.
Voice quivering, Jenn
sang lullabies as her tears fell onto Katie's cheeks. This was the darkest pit
she'd ever been in, and the most lethal. Despite the horror, she remembered
Gracie—a daughter ripped from her in blinding blackness. Hugging Katie tighter,
she vowed it wouldn’t happen again. Never again
Matt had not saved her
from that horrible torture—he hadn’t even known about it until years later. But
tonight she was certain he was close. Somewhere behind her he was practicing
mountain man skills. If bears didn’t extinguish her life first, he’d accomplish
the task. Maybe he’d given her a gun so the hunt would be more
entertaining.
Using the plastic
poncho as a blanket and her gun for a pillow, Jenn and Katie curled into a
tight ball under a pine tree. If Matt came for them she’d hit her mark. Not
dead on, but close enough to count.
Shivering, Jenn felt
more sorry for herself than she ever remembered. It wasn’t that she was afraid
to die, but terrified of watching her baby die. The night breeze blew, stealing
warmth, but not depleting her courage. She held in her arms something she loved
more than herself—and she’d protect it to her last heartbeat.
End Chapter 35
I'm really sorry I just pushed Jenn over a cliff, but... Anyway, she made it to the bottom--with my help, of course.
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