"I don't want to hear it, Ian. There's nothing to talk about. Now let's go." She was pulling him, and he groaned, but he straightened his body. She pulled hard, and got him up off the table. Lightning flashed, and he seemed to find some energy. He managed to stand on the edge of the seat, facing the table. He was unsteady, but standing. "What do we do?"
"I don't know, but we're going to get out of here…Is there any rope?"
He nodded, weakly.
"Where?"
He pointed straight down, toward the nose of the trailer, now hanging in space. "Down there. Under the dash."
"Come on."
She leaned out into space, and spread her legs so she was braced against the floor opposite her. She was standing like a rock climber in a chimney. Twenty feet below her to the dashboard.
"Okay, Ian. Let's go."
Malcolm said, "I can't do it, Sarah. Seriously."
"Then lean on me. I'll carry you."
"But - "
"Now, damn it!"
Malcolm hoisted himself up, grasped a wall fitting, his arm trembling. He was dragging his right leg. Then she felt his weight on her, sudden and heavy, almost knocking her free. His arms locked around her neck, choking her. She gasped, reached back with both arms, grabbed his thighs, and lifted him while he adjusted his arms better around her neck. Finally she could breathe.
"Sorry," he said.
"It's okay," she said. "Here we go."
She started to make her way down the vertical passageway, grabbing at whatever she could, In places there were handholds, and when there were no handholds, she clutched at drawer handles, table legs, window latches, even the carpeting on the floor, her fingers tearing the cloth. At one point, the carpet came away in a big strip, and she slipped before her legs tightened wider, and she halted her downward slide. Hanging behind her, Malcolm wheezed; his arms around her neck were trembling. He said, "You're very strong."
"But still feminine," she said, grimly.
She was only ten feet from the dashboard. Then five. She found a wall grip, hung, dangling her legs. Her feet touched the steering wheel. She lowered herself down, easing Malcolm onto the dashboard. He lay back, gasping—
The trailer creaked and swayed. She fumbled under the dashboard, found a utility box, popped it open. Metal tools spilled out, clattering. And she found a rope. Half-inch nylon, easily fifty feet of it.
She got up, staring down through the windshield at the bottom of the valley hundreds of feet below. Directly to her side, she saw the driver's door to the trailer. She twisted the handle, pushed it open. It clanged against the outer surface of the trailer, and she felt rain on her face.
She leaned out and looked up the side of the trailer. She saw smooth metal paneling, with no hand grips. But underneath the trailer, there must be axles and boxes and other things to stand on. Gripping the wet metal of the doorjamb, she bent over, trying to look at the underside of the trailer. She heard a metallic clanking, and she heard someone say, "Finally!" And a bulky shape suddenly loomed in front of her. It was Thorne, hanging on the undercarriage.
"For Christ's sake," Thorne said. "What are you waiting for, an engraved invitation? Let's go!"
"It's Ian," she said. "He's hurt."
Typical, Kelly thought, looking at Arby in the high hide. When things got tough, he just couldn't handle it. Too much emotion, too much tension, and he got all trembly and weird. Arby had long since turned away from the cliff, and now was looking out the other side of the shelter, toward the river. Almost as if nothing was going on. Typical.
Kelly turned back to Levine. "What's happening now?" she said. "Thorne just went in," Levine said, peering through the goggles. "He went in? You mean, in the trailer?"
"Yes. And now…someone's coming out."
"Who?
"I think Sarah. She's getting everybody out."
Kelly strained in the night, trying to see. The rain had almost stopped; there was only a light drizzle now. Across the valley, the trailer still swung free in space. She thought she could make out a figure, clinging to the undercarriage. But she couldn't be sure.
'What's she doing?"
"Climbing."
"Alone?"
"Yes," Levine said. "Alone."
Sarah Harding came out through the door, twisting her body in the rain. She did not look down. She knew the valley was five hundred feet below her. She could feel the trailer swinging. She had the rope slung around her shoulder. She edged around, lowered her leg, and stood on a gearbox. She felt with her hand, gripped a cable. Swung around.
Thorne was inside the trailer, talking to her. "We'll never get Malcolm up without a rope," he said. "Can you climb it?"
Lightning flashed. She stared straight up at the underside of the trailer, glistening wet with rain. She saw the slick learn of grease. Then blackness again.
"Sarah: can you do it?"
"Yes," she said. She reached up, and started to climb.
In the high hide, Kelly was saying, "Where is she? What's happening? Is she all right?"
Levine watched through the glasses. "She's climbing," he said.