“It’s the top,” she breathed. “The top, Cultus Collins.”
“Keep yore nerve,” he warned her, trying to look up. “There’s more niches in the wall. Don’t quit now. Keep goin’ as long as they last.”
Three more niches. She spurred her aching feet to grope for them. Cultus could see the end now.
“Grip yore right foot tight and hook yore right elbow over the edge. Put yore left foot on my shoulder. Don’t be afraid to brace yourself. Take it easy now. Can yuh lean over the edge? Fine! Lay out flat and wriggle.”
Cultus braced himself and waited until the pressure of her left foot was released from his back. His knees were weak as he cautiously clawed his way up to the top. He hooked his right foot, swayed to the right and sprawled beside Jane, who was still crumpled up on her face, crying softly.
Cultus relaxed for a while before he sat up to consider their surroundings. A shelf of sandstone blocked their view of the canyon. To the left was a series of natural sandstone steps, leading to another crevice through the rocks.
He unhooked their boots and put his on. There was little left of his socks, and the ends of his toes were raw and bleeding. Finally Jane sat up cautiously, her hands still gripping at the rocks. Her face was dirty from a mixture of tears and dust, and her eyes looked as though she had just awakened from a terrible nightmare.
“That shore was a climb,” Cultus said wearily. “Want to take a peek and see where we come up?”
She shut her eyes quickly.
“I don’t want to ever see it again. I don’t even want to ever climb a ladder again. I—I thought I’d never make it. Can’t I just stay here a while?”