Wrath & Righteousnes Episodes 01 to 05 (26 page)

He huffed in pain and disappointment, then reached desperately for the rope, while hanging by one hand.

The instant he put weight on the rope, it started sliding through his fingers. He watched in terror as it snaked from the overhand above him and through the air, falling toward the rocky ground so far below. As they passed in front of his face in slow motion the carabineer and safety bolt flashed in the sun. The rope fell with a light
whisp
before the metal devices clinked against the hard rocks below.

* * *

Ammon saw the rope fall and almost threw up on himself. The bolt had broken free from the crevasse! It couldn’t be! His mind flashed and he rushed to the wall. He legs turned to jelly and his gut crunched in a sick knot of dark fear.

He glanced up at his brother who hung from the edge by one hand. “
Oh God!
” he frantically whispered. “
Please, don’t let him fall!
”

He dove on the rope in a panic, as if it could help him now. He laced it through his fingers, finding the bolt. The carabineer was still attached and he grimaced in pain, then stared at it blankly, a disbelieving look on his face. He turned for the trail, rope in his hands, and started to run, then stopped. He did not have enough time! Luke could not hang on long enough for him to get to the top of the rock and secure the rope again!

He looked up in horror.

He did not want his brother to die!

Then the bitter truth hit him like a baseball bat in his chest. He exhaled in pain, almost doubling over with guilt. He clenched his teeth and looked up, his eyes wide in gut-wrenching fear.

He
thought
the bolt was safe. But he hadn’t been sure.

His brother was going to die. And it was his fault!

He looked up, his mouth agape, his throat too tight to scream. “I’ll catch you, Luke!” he tried calling, but his voice only croaked.

* * *

Luke knew he was dead. He simply couldn’t hang on. He had drained all his energy, every ounce of his strength. His fingers were slipping and his arms cramped in pain. He tried desperately to hang on, but there was nothing more he could do.

He felt his grip slipping and he closed his eyes for the fall.

Time stopped, the world froze in place. He heard his heart beat and felt each pull of breath in his chest. He thought clearly and precisely as his mind raced ahead.

He opened his eyes and looked below him where Ammon was waiting in terror, his face sick and grim. It seemed as if he was trying to call to him, but his voice didn’t come. His brother reached up as if waiting to catch him when he fell. The rope lay curled at his feet, completely worthless now.

Lifting his head, he looked up to the overhang.
He was so close
. Just another few inches. But he simply did not have the strength. He was hanging by one hand now. His fingers slipped again, and he held on by his last knuckles.

He listened to his heartbeat. Then he started praying. “Please, I do not want to die.”

He closed his eye. Numbing pain in his arms. A sickening fear in his chest. “I don’t want to die!” he cried again.

“
Then fight!
” something told him.

He opened his eyes and looked around.

“
Fight! This is your choice!
”

The voice was so clear, it was as if someone had whispered in his ear. He blinked in confusion, feeling sudden strength in his arms.

“
This is not your time,
” the unseen voice whispered.
“You have more work to do. Now, are you going to fight so I can help you or are you going to let go?
”

Luke tightened his grasp on the rock.

“
Look to your right! There is a firm handhold there.
”

Luke turned his head and saw a large protrusion in the rock he had not noticed before. How could he have missed it? Was it
really
there before? He reached out and grabbed it. It fit like a glove in his hand and he curled his fingers around it, a perfect handhold. He felt a sudden rush of strength and he reached with his other hand. Another crack in the rock provided another handhold and he moved slowly upward on the ledge. He reached the edge of the overhang and hung, still suspended, then started swinging his legs while pulling himself up with his arms. He got one knee up and clawed at the overhang with his feet while pulling up with his arms. His other foot brushed the rock and he felt another rush of strength. He pulled one final time and his feet caught the top of the ledge. With strength beyond his own, he heaved himself over the top, then collapsed in a heap of quivering flesh.

He couldn’t move his fingers. He couldn’t move his arms. He was so numb and exhausted he barely had the strength to breathe. His head dropped to the side and he saw bloody scratches on his arm. His stomach turned to water, bitter and tart, and he rolled to his side and threw up a gush of clear fluid. Then he lay back, exhausted, barely able to think.

Below him, he heard his brother’s desperate sobs.

* * *

Ammon had fallen to his knees, then rolled onto his side. He pulled his arms to his chest and held himself tight while great tears of horror and relief rolled down his cheeks to dribble across his neck.

He had almost killed his brother. The whole thing would have been his fault! He shuddered again as his face went pale. A cold sweat drenched his face, his lips almost turning blue.

God had saved him!
He had reached down from heaven and pulled Luke up and over the ledge. Ammon had watched it. There was no doubt in his mind. Someone had saved him, someone from above.

He looked at the rope that lay curled at his knees, one end still attached to Luke’s harness, then picked up the bolt and carabineer and felt sick again.

He sobbed with emotion, overcome with guilt and relief.

He had almost killed his brother!
How could he have gone on if Luke had fallen? Would he ever get over this moment? Would the dread ever pass?

He felt sick and alone. And he knew in his heart he would never be the same man again.

* * *

A long moment passed. How long, Ammon didn’t know, it felt like only a few seconds, but it could have been much longer. He finally pushed himself to his feet, untied the rope from his harness and ran up the trail to the topside of the rock. Looking over the ledge, he saw Luke waiting there, leaning against the cliff, his arms hanging weakly at his side. Ammon looked down at his brother a moment before Luke noticed that he was standing over his head.

Ammon couldn’t speak. His mind was a haze.

“Hey, that was kind of exciting.” Luke said with a smile.

Ammon shook his head. “I’m so sorry . . . so sorry . . . .”

“What for?”

“The rope. The bolt! It was my fault.”

Luke shook his head and waved a dismissive hand, barely lifting it from his lap. “Come on, Ammon. Don’t go soft on me, brother. It’s one of those things. Anyone who climbs knows that it could happen. There was no way you could know. Just one of those things.”

“I should have known the bolt wasn’t sure. The rock was starting to crack. I should have stopped you.”

Luke pushed himself up, leaning into the rock. “That’s a crock! There was no way you could know. Now don’t go girly on me, brother! Besides, I’m OK. And now I can say I made it over the ledge. Without a safety rope even! Let’s see Sam beat that!”

Luke smiled, but his voice trailed off and both of the young men were silent.

After a moment of quiet, Luke said, “I heard something.” His voice was solemn, almost reverent.

Ammon’s eyes narrowed. “I saw something,” he replied.

“I felt such strength.”

“It was as if a hand lifted you up and over the ledge.”

They both fell still for a very long time. Then they looked at each other and Luke lowered his eyes. “Can you secure the rope? I want to get off of this ledge.”

Luke stood weakly. He barely had the strength to gather the rope from where it dangled over the side of the overhang, coil it up loosely and throw it up to Ammon, who secured it to the tree before pulling him the last ten feet to the top of the rock.

The two young men drove in silence the entire way home. “Should we tell Dad when he gets back from his trip?” Ammon asked as they pulled into the drive.

Luke shook his head. “I don’t think so,” he said. “Maybe someday, but let’s not mention it for now.”

The prince’s family was returning to the city. There were two young teenage boys and a daughter who had just celebrated her tenth birthday. Princess Tala hurried them forward and they moved smartly into the long limousine, a black BMW with bulletproof windows; steel rails in the side doors, surrounding the battery and the radiator; blast-proof metal plates welded underneath the floor; and run-flat tires.

Princess Tala, first wife of Crown Prince Saud, followed her children into the limousine’s backseat. She moved carefully, her hand subconsciously protecting her stomach. She was just weeks away from delivering her third son, another prince for the kingdom, and she had developed a habit of resting her hand on her abdomen as she walked. Dropping into the back seat, she adjusted herself, smoothing her white dress and blowing away a stray curl of hair from her eyes. Tala was slender and beautiful, with deep green eyes and rich chestnut hair hidden under a silk scarf and thin veil. She sat gracefully, every move elegant, her eyes soft and wide like her ancestral mothers, the ancient Egyptian queens. Her dark skin was perfect and flawless, and the sight of her long neck and green eyes revealed enough beauty to command the attention of any man.

The Crown Prince had chosen wisely. Tala was a princess in every sense of the word. Which was both a great blessing and a weakness. Depending on how long she lived.

The three children sat across from their mother in the long sedan, their backs facing their bodyguard and driver. The princess nodded to the men in the front seat and the convoy began to move down the circular drive that led from the villa to the front gate that protected the grounds. The Royal Family’s modest summer palace, a mere forty-five rooms and three pools, fell behind the line of cars, and the princess sighed deeply and looked out her bulletproof window to see the receding summer palace.

Built on the highest peak on the western side of the mountains that looked down on the Red Sea, the summer palace was a refuge from the brutal hot desert below. Here the mountain air was cool and tangy with the smell of juniper and pine. Ancient Joshua trees lined the private drive, their heavy branches hanging over the pavement and breaking the sunlight into shadows that flickered through the windows of the passing cars. The princess glanced back at the retreating villa with sadness. She spent more time here than anywhere else in the kingdom and it was always hard to leave. To her, all of the other palaces, magnificent as they might be, were no more than hotels where she might spend a few nights. This palace felt like home, the one place she was truly comfortable, and she would have stayed here forever if the Crown Prince would allow it.

Tala’s daughter watched her peer through the back window as the stone villa grew smaller. She knew her mother was happier here than anywhere else in the world. In this matter they agreed. “When will we be back?” the little girl asked as the villa fell behind a line of conifer trees.

“Soon,” her mother answered. “But we have other obligations. Our lives cannot be only pleasure, we have other things we must do.”

“Can we come back next week?” her daughter asked.

The princess cocked her head and smiled. “El-Tasha, if we came back next week, what would you do about school?”

“I would rather be here on the mountain than go to school. Did you know I saw a mountain goat yesterday! It was way up on the cliffs. You should have seen it climbing, I thought surely it would fall. Can we come back next week and see if it is still there!”

The oldest son eyed his sister. “She’s just looking for an excuse to get out of her studies,” he teased. “El-Tasha would rather sit on a rock in the middle of the Euphrates surrounded by eel snakes than go to school.”

El-Tasha shook her head. “That’s not true!” she answered. “I like school. Sometimes. Well OK, I don’t like the academy, but that’s not the reason I want to come back . . . at least it’s not the
only
reason.”

The oldest son laughed again and Tala turned to him. He had the dark eyes of his father and was filling out in the chest. He looked so much like his father, it was almost uncanny, it was like a younger prince Saud sitting there. although he was just fourteen, he looked older. Something about the future responsibility of the kingdom made a boy grow quickly and the princess could almost see the subtle weight of the kingdom begin to settle on his shoulders. He was the next link in the transition of the kingdom. He’d been told to prepare from the time he was a child. Difficult as it was for him to comprehend, he was doing his best.

Princess Tala patted his knee then glanced through the bulletproof window at the road ahead.

A twelve-foot brick wall surrounded the mountain retreat. The only access to the villa, which was set back half a mile from the security wall, was through a heavy steel gate. Thick trees lined the road and the convoy of five vehicles sped along the hardtop toward the gate. The first vehicle in the convoy was a black military van containing the heavy weapons and surface-to-air missiles. A black SUV followed the black van with the royal family’s personal bodyguards. Princess Tala and her family were in the third car, the long BMW limousine, followed by another SUV with her physician, the family pediatrician, a personal assistant, secretary, trainer and masseuse. The chief of security rode in the last vehicle, a heavy truck crammed with military officers and security police.

From his vantage point in the convoy’s rear, the chief of security could watch their progress while observing the road ahead. After years of training (and some painful experience), the chief had grown accustomed to riding in the back of the convoy where he could more accurately observe the situation and measure the threats.