ARC: Essence (15 page)

CHAPTER TWENTY

“We must honor Shayla’s dedication by continuing our quest for truth.”

Rex addressed the entire Community from the back porch of the Ahwahnee. Shayla’s last heart rate readings, downloaded into his database this morning, inspired him so much he felt compelled to assemble everyone together at once.

Shayla’s heart rate was apparently elevated right until the moment she had her monitor removed. “She was a model Community member,” Rex said. “According to her readings – both from this week and the last several months – it is certain Shayla believes in our mission here. She believes in it with every ounce of her soul, and her decision to cross over will reverberate through this Community from this day forward.” He raised his voice. “Let this be a lesson to all of us. We must never forget the reason we are here, and we must honor Shayla’s devotion with our every action.”

Daniel came to stand beside him. “Understanding that the initial phase of our research will be drawing to a close in August, Rex and I urge each of you to come up with a personal goal between now and then. In the spirit of Shayla, we would also like you to spend some reflective time remembering why our research matters to you.”

“What did you give up to come here?” Rex asked. “Who did you leave behind? Why? Remember that decision, how it sank into your gut and became part of your soul when you arrived here.” He cleared his throat. “Shayla gave up her family, her life as a Centrist and her little sister Tabitha to join us. Let us never forget her commitment.”

Daniel’s movements were crisp. “Some of you have just become part of our Community, while others have been here for years. No matter how long you have been part of our endeavors, I urge you not to let your determination wane. Don’t become complacent with your heart rate readings, because we will never have this opportunity again.”

“The only way to dismantle the Centrist Movement is to take advantage of every single second we spend here,” Rex finished. “In the spirit of Shayla’s commitment, please remember this as we move forward.”

I was standing in the back of the gathering – still dressed in my work clothes – when the crowd began to disperse. I hadn’t seen Ryder since he’d dropped me at my tent cabin yesterday afternoon, and the lingering kiss he’d given me on my front doorstep had been enough to keep me off-balance all morning.

But my thoughts were far from Secret Falls as I watched the Community members filter back across the Meadow. I felt stirred and inspired by Rex’s words, and I decided right then and there I needed to come up with a goal for myself.

I found a seat on a nearby pine log and closed my eyes. If I really wanted to help dismantle the Movement, I needed to do something big. Something huge. Something way more impressive than sitting here in the Meadow with the sun’s rays shining on my face.

Like Ryder said, I needed to do something that scared me. Something that amplified my Essence. Something Rex and Ryder would be proud of.

The answer came to me almost instantly: I needed to do something Shayla would have done.

I’m going to walk the highline at Taft Point. And I’m going to do it without a safety line.

I was so excited about my plan that I almost didn’t notice Kadence and Javi walking through the pine canopy. But Kadence was livid, and her words carried with the weight of ice water: “Bullshit. It’s complete and total bullshit. There’s no reason why we should celebrate Shayla’s injuries with a speech like that.”

“I know,” Javi answered. “It doesn’t make sense. Seems really irresponsible.”

“She’s lucky she didn’t die, you know? Why push everyone else into making similar mistakes?”

We made eye contact across the clearing, and Kadence rushed toward me. “Autumn, thank you so much for helping me to my room yesterday. I don’t think I could have made it without you.”

I wanted to ask her why Rex’s speech had upset her so much, but Javi cleared his throat to get her attention. She paused for a second, and sadness briefly flitted through her features.

“Autumn, I heard you and Ryder might be…” She wrung her hands together. “Listen, I just want you to know that I’m happy for you. If Ryder is the guy you’ve decided you want to be with… I just don’t want things to be weird between us.”

Her expression pinched, and she exchanged another look with Javi. “Just… remember to be careful, OK?”

I stared blankly at her for a moment, and then I did the only thing I could think of; I thanked her for her concern and then faked a stomachache so I could get out of there quick.

It was a dumb move, but it worked. Its only drawback was the look on Ryder’s face when I came staggering into the Ahwahnee, hand clenched over my belly.

“What are you up to, Red?” His voice was deliberately slow, and his eyes glinted as he tilted his head to study me.

He was standing near one of the fireplaces, surrounded by mounds of rope and gear I didn’t recognize. Two boys were busy laying out equipment behind him, and they stopped what they were doing and turned when I entered.

“Oh, shut up,” I said playfully. “Like you’ve never faked nausea to get out of a conversation before. Even Centrists know that trick.”

“Seems I have underestimated you.” He chuckled and turned back to his gear. “What are you up to right now? Wanna come climbing with us?”

“Climbing?”

“Yeah. Rock climbing.” He motioned to the boys behind him. “Trey and Adrian. You guys remember Autumn from Vernal Fall, right? Three of us were about to spend a few hours at Church Bowl. Don’t suppose you wanna join us?”

I nodded, even though I wasn’t sure exactly what he was talking about. “Yeah, I definitely would.”

I wanted to tell him about highlining, about my brand-new goal at Taft Point, but I wanted to be alone with him first. I wanted to see that spark in his eyes when he heard my decision, and I wanted him to pull me into his arms and tell me he was proud of me.

I decided I would wait.

Church Bowl was a vertical cliff face a short walk from the entrance to the Ahwahnee. I set out with Ryder and the boys, and it felt good to tramp down the pavement in the middle of the group.

Trey was unmistakable – tall, dark-skinned and dreadlocked. He spoke in a slow, deep voice, and he spent most of the walk discussing climbing routes with Adrian.

Shorter and stouter, Adrian had thick hands, toffee-colored hair and blocky, tan shoulders. He didn’t have much to say to me, either, but his voice filled with enthusiasm when we reached Church Bowl. Then he and Trey were gone, rushing to the cliff and carefully laying out their gear again.

“Aren’t big talkers at first,” Ryder explained, hanging back with me. “You’ll grow on ’em after a while.” He bumped me lightly on the hip. “That is, if you keep me around long enough.”

Keep you around long enough? His touch sent a jolt through me. “Depends on how nice you are to me, I guess.”

“That so?” He enveloped my shoulders with one swoop of his arm and motioned to the rock wall. The boys were busy pulling on strappy harnesses and inspecting a bizarre assortment of clamps, ropes, wires and metal objects I didn’t recognize. “Wanna give climbing a shot, or would you rather sit back and watch today? We’re starting easy, so this would be a pretty good day to give it a whirl if you’re into it.”

“I want to try.” I paused. “Oh, and Ryder? I was thinking about what Rex said, and I’ve already come up with my goal for the next few months.”

“That right?”

“Yeah.” I swallowed. “I’ve decided I want to learn how to slackline.”

He grinned. “That’s a great goal, Red; I’ll teach you myself.”

“No, wait, I’m not finished. I want to highline over Taft Point, just like Shayla would have. And I want to do it like you. Without a safety line.”

“Red.” If I was expecting him to cheer or jump for joy, he certainly didn’t. “I don’t know about that. Highlining is crazy dangerous, and you just got here, you know? Shayla’s been highlining for years. Why don’t you set your sights a little lower, on something like a creek slackline?”

“I don’t want to do a creek slackline.” My voice came out whiny, but I didn’t care. “I want to do a highline. I thought you’d be proud of me.”

“I am.” He held me at arm’s length. “No, Red, don’t misunderstand. I
am
proud, and that goal is totally badass. I just… don’t want to set you up for failure, you know? Shayla worked a really long time to get as good as she got, and even she fell, you know?”

“I’m not going to fall.” I frowned. “I’m going to do it. Amplify my Essence, just like you said. Will you help me?”

His expression softened, and the slow smile that crept over his face was definitely worth the wait. “Yeah, I will. Sure you’re into it?”

“I am.”

“All right. Let’s do this, then.” He pulled me in for a quick peck on the forehead, and then he turned to address the boys. “Hey, assholes! Guess who’s decided she’s highlining Taft Point with us?”

“What?” Trey’s voice was incredulous. Straightening up from the clamps he was inspecting, he shot me a smile almost as wide as Ryder’s. “Hell yeah, sister. Let’s get your ass up on that line.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Apparently you can’t just highline Taft Point. You have to train and train and train for months or even years sometimes, so Ryder insisted we get started that very instant. That meant blowing off climbing and instead setting up our very own slackline at Church Bowl’s base.

Only it wasn’t quite that easy. Ryder had to dash back to the Ahwahnee to grab some “webbing”, so I had to wait and listen while Trey told me all about this Chinese guy named Ken he’d once seen “go splat” when he panicked halfway between Taft Point and the other side.

“It was heinous. Dude was trapped out there in the middle, as far from the beginning as he was from the end. I’ll never forget the look on his face.” He shook his head and worked the climbing line secured to the harness on his waist.

Adrian hung from the other end of the line. Suspended high on the rocks and attached by what appeared to be a safety pulley, he yelled down after a while, “Less blabbing, more belaying, please. Thank you very much.”

After a few minutes, Ryder returned with a thick, flat rope slung over his shoulder. He must have seen the horrified look on my face, because he shook his head and said, “Trey, really? You already told her about the Chinese guy?”

“Sorry, man.” Trey shook his head. “Heinous, though. It really was.”

Ryder met my eyes. “It was. It was absolutely horrible, but Ken’s the only one who’s ever died on the highline, and that’s because he didn’t take his training seriously. Which means if you really want to do this, we need to get started right away.”

He paused. “You can change your mind any time you want, you know. And for the sake of argument, let’s assume you’ll have a safety line, OK? Better for my heart that way.”

“OK.” I didn’t want to admit it, but the cliff-sized weight in my chest lifted at his words. “A safety line sounds good. For now. And I can always change my mind about that, right?”

Ryder took a few moments to show me our gear – a much less complicated assortment than what Trey and Adrian used to rock-climb.

“OK, let’s get terminology straight first. This,” he said, motioning to the coiled rope at his feet, “is called webbing. It’s made of nylon, and it’s weaved to be flat, almost like a seatbelt. Even when it’s pulled tight, it’s still pretty springy; that’s why it always jumps around when you walk. Different from the old tightropes of circus days.”

He picked up three D-shaped metal clasps. “These are called carabiners; we’ll use them to secure the webbing between trees.” Chuckling at my nod, he said, “There are tons of ways to string a slackline, but the easiest is what we’re gonna do today. See two trees you like?”

“What?”

“For starters, you wanna look for two trees about twenty feet apart. Strong ones. In a nice, flat place where the ground isn’t too rocky. See any trees like that?”

I pointed to two pines, and he nodded. “Perfect.” He picked up the webbing and a few large sticks. “Wanna help me wrap ’em? We’re gonna want the line to be low, maybe even with your mid-thigh?”

Ryder instructed me to hold the sticks vertically against one of the tree’s trunks while he wrapped the webbing around it. “To cushion the tree, you know,” he said. “Don’t want it to get rope burn.”

Once the webbing was secured by a carabiner, we stretched the remaining length across the clearing and secured the other end to the second tree. I cushioned its loop with a few more sticks while Ryder wrapped it, and then we took turns pulling it tight with the second and third carabiners.

When the slackline was officially ready, Ryder instructed me to take off my shoes. “You gotta feel the webbing, Red,” he said, kicking his own pair into the dirt. “Every tiny vibration, every little inconsistency and flicker. You gotta know that webbing better than you’ve ever known anything in your entire life. Can’t fake it, or you’ll fall.”

I smiled at the intense way he scrutinized me while I took off my own shoes. “Got cute feet, Red,” he said, planting a quick kiss on my cheek.

“You wanna take your time standing up,” he continued, coming to stand beside the webbing. He placed his right foot on it – like Shayla had during moonbows – and then he stood still for a moment, eyes focused forward.

“See how I’m not just popping up to stand? Taking a moment to feel the webbing and gather my thoughts before I start. Gotta clear all that shit out before you get up. Just… whoosh. You know?”

He closed his eyes. Tension seemed to drain from his face, and then… Whoosh. One quick exhale, and he was standing.

He was… beautiful. Of all the words in the world, it was the one that jumped to my mind first. In an instant, I knew it was the right one.

Gone was the Ryder I thought I knew – the Ryder that smoked cigarettes and swaggered and laughed and flirted with me. Gone was the guy I’d met in Golden Gate Park, the guy who’d skinny-dipped on top of Vernal Falls and kissed me on the Housekeeping Camp bridge.

In his place was this
man
– this laser-focused, intense and centered man. His expression was calm, and his eyes never left the slackline as he took one step, then two steps, then three steps forward. His arms, held outward from his sides, swayed slightly as he corrected his balance, and his movements were fluid and graceful as a cat’s.

Desire swept through me at the memory of those arms wrapped around me, and I felt pride swell inside me as well. Ryder thinks I’m capable of doing this, too.

In several short steps, he made it to the other side. As he turned to face me, his face melted into a grin. “Ta-da!” he said. “And that’s all there is to it. Ready to give it a try?”

I’ll admit it; I was smug. Ryder made it look so easy that I was certain I’d be up and strutting around on that thing in no time.

As he jumped down and motioned for me to begin, I approached the slackline and mimicked his opening stance: right foot elevated and parallel to the webbing, left foot solid on the ground. The position was a little harder than I expected, but I blamed that on how much longer Ryder’s legs were than mine.

I stood very still for a moment, and then I attempted to straighten my right leg, just as he had. That’s when things started to fall apart.

It’s apparently really hard to lift your entire body with only the strength of your thigh to support you. And apparently my thigh wasn’t up to snuff, because my body barely budged. I popped up about three inches, and then I felt my leg collapse beneath me. My knee buckled, and then I was back on the ground.

My face burned, but when I looked in shock at Ryder, he did his best to control his smile. “No worries, Red. It’s crazy hard at first. Your muscles’ll build in time, but standing up is one of the hardest parts. Why don’t you try again, and I’ll give you a boost if you need it?”

I returned my attention to the webbing, but my leg collapsed the second time as well.

“It’s OK,” he said. “Let’s see what a little help does for you.” Coming to stand at my side, he instructed, “Put your left arm on my shoulder. And then push up when you’re ready to straighten your leg.”

I nodded, but the nearness of his body flustered me. When I straightened my leg and tried to stand, the webbing vibrated, and I tumbled sideways into his arms.

“Can’t you just hold my hand and lead me?” I asked, frustration edging into my voice.

“Can’t do it, Red.” He gently deposited me back to the ground. “And you shouldn’t hold onto my shoulder when you get on your feet, either. It’s a crutch, and it’ll hold you back. Gotta find your own balance, you know?”

I must have frowned, because he chuckled and flicked my nose. “You’re cute when you’re pissed off. You know that?” Turning to pat the slackline, he continued. “The thing about this is it’s not a party trick. It’s a tool; it makes you find your center. Makes you push everything out of your head and focus on only one thing. If you get unfocused, you start to wobble. And if you start to wobble, you start to fall. End of story.”

He slouched against the nearest tree. “Remember your Centrist meditation exercises? All that aura-smoothing shit? Well, that’s crap meditation; not the real thing at all. But in order to get those auras smoothed, you have to quiet your mind. Slacklining’s like that, but now you gotta concentrate on your physical self as well as your mental self. What’s your body doing? Where’s your gaze? How does that webbing feel beneath your toes?”

He smiled. “Don’t rush into walking this time. Just push up and balance on one foot. See how long it takes to find your center. When you find it, start walking.”

I nodded. Turning back to the slackline, I propped my right foot on the webbing and grabbed Ryder’s shoulder for balance.

I concentrated on the feeling of my breath as it left my lungs, on the slow relaxing of my face as I breathed in again. From somewhere to our right, I could hear Trey and Adrian laughing, but soon their voices faded a little. The sun felt hot against the top of my head, but the rest of my body felt cool. Sharp. Focused.

Instead of bolting to a standing position like before, I straightened my right leg slowly. The webbing jerked again, and I could feel the muscles in my thigh quivering, but I didn’t give up this time. Instead, I extended my arms like he had, and I took a moment to catch my balance.

Whoosh.
My breath felt like it weighed a thousand pounds as it left my lungs. And then,
whoosh,
another breath back in.

My eyes drilled into the slackline so hard they began to burn, but I didn’t look away. I’m not even sure if I blinked, and the jerking of my arms slowly subsided as my body began to find its center.

The feeling was hard to process. A slow melting and reformulating of my insides that startled me so much I jerked sideways to see if Ryder was watching. The movement sent vibrations humming through the line again. The next thing I knew, I was falling.

I managed to land on my feet this time. When I straightened, I didn’t feel frustrated or antsy like I had before. Instead, I felt energized. And determined. And a tiny bit fixated. Someday, I would be able to do this.

“I want to try again.”