Climb Up

I choose the cliff. The decision happens less because it feels safer and more because the cave terrifies me in a way I cannot explain. The darkness inside that opening feels wrong somehow, too still and too absolute, like the mountain itself is holding its breath inside there waiting for something to crawl deeper into its throat.

The voices behind me make the decision for me anyway. I scramble toward the cliff face immediately, nearly slipping on loose gravel before catching myself against the rough stone with both hands. The rock feels cold beneath my palms despite the lingering desert heat. Sharp edges bite into my skin while I search frantically for anything that looks remotely climbable.

The first ledge sits just above shoulder height. I jump for it. My fingers barely catch the edge. Loose rock crumbles instantly beneath one hand and sprays downward into the darkness below me. Panic shoots violently through my chest while my bare feet skid helplessly against the cliff face searching for traction.

Then my toes catch a narrow crack in the stone. I shove upward hard enough to nearly tear something in my shoulder and manage to drag myself onto the ledge with a **** gasp. Immediately I flatten myself against the rock. My heart pounds so violently I can feel it in my throat.

The ledge itself is barely wider than my feet. Tiny stones tumble constantly beneath my weight and bounce away into the darkness below. I risk one quick glance downward and instantly regret it. The desert floor already looks far away. The cave opening sits directly beneath me now like a black wound cut into the base of the cliff.

Beyond it, moonlight spills silver across the rocks and dry brush below. And somewhere out there, voices drift through the darkness. “They went this way.” The words echo faintly upward..I press myself tighter against the cliff face instinctively. I wait several more seconds before climbing again.

Every movement feels dangerous. There is no path upward, only cracks, narrow ledges, and uneven stone shelves barely large enough to support my weight. I climb the way drowning people swim, desperately and without grace. My fingernails scrape bloody against rough rock while I haul myself upward inch by inch.

Bare feet make everything worse. Every sharp edge slices into my soles. Tiny stones grind painfully beneath my weight while I search constantly for footholds that will not crumble loose beneath me. Twice my footing slips badly enough that my stomach completely drops before I catch myself again against the cliff.

The second time almost kills me. A handhold breaks loose beneath my weight without warning. Suddenly I am falling. Only a few feet, but enough. My body slams hard against the cliff face while rocks explode downward beneath me into the darkness. I manage to catch a narrow crack one-handed at the last possible second.

Pain tears through my shoulder instantly. For one horrifying moment I hang there completely suspended above the desert floor with nothing beneath me except empty air. My breathing becomes ragged immediately.

The muscles in my arm shake violently while my bare feet claw helplessly against smooth rock searching for support. Below me, voices rise again..“You hear that?” I flatten myself against the stone instantly, barely daring to breathe while the lights search the rocks below me.

Then somebody laughs. “Nothin’ up there but rattlesnakes." I almost collapse from relief. Slowly, painfully, I manage to pull myself onto another narrow ledge jutting from the cliff face. The space is barely large enough to crouch on, but it feels enormous compared to hanging over open air.

I sit there shaking violently for several seconds while trying not to look down. The desert stretches endlessly beneath me now. The cave has disappeared into shadow below the cliff. The voices sound farther away. But the climb above me still looks impossibly high.

Moonlight spills across the upper ridges of the cliff face where jagged stone disappears toward the summit somewhere overhead. The route ahead narrows into little more than cracked rock and narrow vertical seams cutting through the mountain.

I wipe bloody fingers against my overalls and **** myself to look upward again. Then I begin climbing once more. By the time I reach the halfway point, every muscle in my body burns hard enough to feel molten.

My hands shake constantly now from exhaustion. Blood streaks the rock beneath me where my palms and bare feet have split open against the stone. The wind feels stronger higher up the cliff face, tugging constantly at my curls and clothes while empty darkness yawns below me on every side. And still, somehow, the top remains impossibly far away.