Aftershock. Jill Sorenson

      He needed to climb the wall before sundown or he wouldn’t be able to see anything with the mirror. So they gave up the search and went back to the RV for a lunch of beef jerky and rice with baby carrots.

      The carrots were the last of the fresh food. They still had some dry goods, a dozen cans of soup and a large jug of apple juice. Lauren found a jar of raspberry jam and a tub of peanut butter in one of the cars. Those items would go a long way. Supplies of everything else, especially water, were dwindling.

      Garrett tried to limit his consumption of liquids, but he was doing thirsty work and he couldn’t afford to get dehydrated. They all needed water to stay alive. Penny was drinking for two. He didn’t even bother to warn Don about using water. It wasn’t as if anyone in their group was washing clothes or taking showers.

      They couldn’t even wash their hands. Garrett had used Lauren’s hospital wipes once or twice when he’d gotten really filthy, but otherwise he ignored the grit. He assumed that he looked and smelled like a vagrant.

      Don was in charge of rationing the food, and he took the job very seriously. He’d been giving them just enough to keep going. The water would run out first, so there was no reason to starve themselves.

      As he studied the climbing gear, Garrett realized he’d been overly optimistic about his abilities. He had no experience with the sport. He’d done a few HALO jumps, and navigated some treacherous terrain, but he wasn’t a paratrooper or a rescue expert. His knowledge of rope systems and safety equipment was limited.

      He winced, looking at the wall in front of him. It wasn’t just sheer; it sloped inward. There were no hand or footholds, just flat concrete. A hairline crack started about six feet up and zigzagged into a narrow crevice near the top corner. The distance between the crevice and the floor was at least thirty feet. If he fell, and his gear didn’t hold, he might not die, but a broken leg was a fate worse than death in here.

      Garrett wavered for a moment, mulling over the consequences. Lauren and the others needed him to stay healthy. But if they failed to communicate with the outside world, they might not be rescued for weeks. Their water supply would last another day or two at the most. He had to try to hang that flag.

      Decision made, he donned the safety harness, adjusting it to fit his larger frame. The owner of the equipment had a lean build, which was probably ideal for rock climbing. Garrett didn’t carry any excess weight, but he was heavier than Sam Rutherford. He hoped he wouldn’t snap the lines.

      The bag was full of square-shaped metal pieces, wire loops and aluminum clips. There were also some round wedge-type things. He couldn’t use those until he got up higher, as the crack wasn’t wide enough for them at the bottom.

      He’d thought about getting started up the wall by standing on the roof of a car, or stacking a few crates on top of each other, but he wanted to get the hang of climbing before he was too high up.

      The kit included a small pickax, which he used to notch a space about three feet under the crack on the wall. He stuck one of the squares into it. When it felt secure, he did the same thing a few feet up, at the base of the crack.

      “So far, so good,” he said under his breath, glancing back at Lauren. She and Don were working on a pop-up tent for the triage space. Her patients would be better protected inside the canvas shelter.

      He turned back to his task. The metal squares had wire loops connected to them. He put his right foot in the lower loop and grabbed the higher one with his left hand, pulling himself up. He felt more like a gorilla than a monkey. His oversize boot scraped against the concrete as he fought for balance.

      Christ, this wasn’t easy. And he was only three feet up.

      When he felt confident that he wasn’t going to fall backward and crack his head open, he clipped his belt to the higher loop. He was reluctant to let go, but he needed both hands to make another notch. Using extreme caution, he released the loop and leaned back, testing the security of the harness.

      The metal square snapped out of the concrete and he stumbled, putting his left foot down. His knee buckled and he tried to jerk his right leg out of the loop. He got tripped up and landed on his ass, one leg in the air.

      Thankfully, his skull didn’t hit the concrete.

      He unhooked his boot and glanced around, feeling sheepish. Lauren was striding toward him with a protective helmet under one arm. She looked upset. He scrambled to his feet, smiling to let her know he wasn’t hurt.

      “Just like skydiving?” she said, shoving the helmet at him. It hit him in the stomach like a not-so-playful punch.

      “Once I’m up there, it will be more like skydiving.”

      She followed his gaze to the top. “Except, no parachute.”

      “Right.”

      When her eyes reconnected with his, he read the fear and anger in them. She was mad at him for scaring her. He hadn’t experienced female concern in so long, he almost couldn’t recognize it. This level of emotion was foreign to him. He marveled for a moment, soaking it in. “I’ll be okay,” he said.

      She crossed her arms over her chest, frowning at the ground where he’d just fallen.

      “I think I’m doing it wrong.”

      “Then why risk getting injured?”

      “If I can’t get the hang of it this afternoon, I won’t keep going.”

      She let out a ragged breath and walked away, her hands clenched into tight fists. He stared at her retreating form for a few seconds too long. She had a cute little butt. In another life, he might have tried to get lucky with her.

      In this life, he wasn’t free to pursue female company, and the only person he got lucky with was himself.

      Flushing, he turned his attention back to the wall. Taking a quick drink from his camel pack, he stuck the helmet on his head and reevaluated the gear. The lower square had stayed secure because it was lodged against a piece of rebar.

      He glanced up at the crevice, where the crosshatch of rebar was more exposed. The structural component helped reinforce the concrete. Not enough to prevent it from buckling, in this case, but well enough to keep them trapped. Even if he could chisel his way through the concrete layer, the bands of rebar created an effective metal prison.

      He repositioned the higher square against a piece of rebar, putting his weight on the loop to test its strength. This time, it held. Using the loops as footholds was awkward and unfeasible. He needed to attach clips to the loops, secure a lead rope to the wall and thread it through the clips as he progressed.

      Frowning, he took a fifty-foot rope from his pack and attached it to his harness. He’d have to ascend the wall, little by little. The only problem was that he couldn’t anchor the other end of the rope.

      This was a two-man job.

      Don had greater upper-body strength than Lauren. Garrett called him over. “Can you hold the line and give me slack when I need it?”

      “Be glad to,” he said, picking it up.

      Garrett realized that Don couldn’t handle his full weight for more than a few seconds. He’d have to use another line for climbing. He attached a clip to the upper loop and threaded a shorter rope through it, gripping one end in his hands and attaching the other to his belt. This way, Don’s line was just for safety.

      Leaning back, he braced his boots against the wall. At the same time, he pulled on the shorter rope, climbing fist over fist. He made slow progress, walking up the wall carefully. It was a hell of an upper-body workout. He wished he wasn’t so goddamned heavy. Finally, his harness was even with the upper loop. Grasping the rope with his left hand, he used his right to clip the loop directly to his belt.

      “Hold the line steady, but don’t pull on it unless this breaks,” he said to Don.

      “Got it,” Don replied.

      When he let