Ghost Reaper Episode 1 by Adams Drew

Author:Adams, Drew [Adams, Drew]
Language: eng
Format: azw3, mobi, epub
Publisher: Bad Weather Publishing
Published: 2013-09-30T18:30:00+00:00

Chapter 2

Hands were slipping. He swung his body anyway. Another inch lost, grip fading even as the last joints of his fingers pinched harder. Chad lashed out with his left arm as he pushed with his right foot.

His grip on the hold above him failed.

The left hand found its mark.

Good hold, he thought. He was swinging like a pendulum, but gained control and grasped the outcrop with his other hand and pulled himself up. With solid firm footing he made the rest of the sideways climb, then up to what he supposed would be the crux of the climb. An overhang that jutted out four to five feet. The edge of it was thick. The thing was as tall as it was wide. To each of its sides the cliff wall was as smooth as glass. He couldn't see directly above the overhang from where he was, but he had noted during his first assessment that it looked possible. Twelve feet of formidable climbing, but possible.

At this point he would expect the need of a squat on the rock to recover, but there was no fatigue, no cramping. It was as if he was just out taking a stroll.

"Some stroll," he laughed.

With a groan he challenged the overhang, coming to the point where he would have to hang upside down and monkey bar to the edge, except there were no monkey bars; only insignificant imperfections in the surface. A deep inhalation of breath, he gripped those blemishes and swung to the edge. Grabbing the edge of the outcrop was not difficult. Even pulling himself up was uneventful. The problem was the last twelve feet. He was staring at a surface that was not near as hospitable as it had appeared from the bottom.

Well, at least the view is nice.

The top of the overhang was flat, inviting a sit down, and that is just what he did. He still had the chill, and something akin to weakness, but different. Some things were easier, some not, trouble was he hadn't quite figured out which was what. To his right far below in the canyon his car rested, covered with snow. Snow that had extinguished the fire, doused the smoke, and made the chance of anyone finding him remote.

"No choice, Dowdry, stay and die. Continue and die more horribly."

A crevice spread across the face of the cliff, maybe eight feet up. He would have to jump. Not enough room on this overhang for much of a running start, he thought.

If I make it, my fingers will probably get cut to the bone.

Positioned like a sprinter, his right foot cocked at the edge, he fired off and leaped for the cleft.

He overshot by at least two feet. His hands slapped the wall above the fissure and his slide down followed. Searching fingers found the crack and held. A moan escaped his lips, anticipating the pain. There was none. He was hanging just about four feet from the top, with ample caches and protrusions to make it.

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