Page 94 of Galaxy Games Four-Book Box Set (Galaxy Games)

94

Everything That Could Go Wrong

S adie

The males ensure the two stanchions on this side of the bridge are planted deep into the ground. Then Ryo takes great care as he ties the end of one of the two long braided vines to it.

After the females heft the coiled braid onto my left shoulder, I walk to the edge of the soil and wait.

“I don’t think you’re going to want to see what happens when the males start chumming the water,” Zrini says. “Keep your eyes straight ahead and go as fast as it’s safe to go. Just remember, once this first strand is tied onto the other end, I think you’ll be safe.”

The males are about a hundred yards away, tossing Jurassic planet monkey carcasses into the river below in an effort to distract the water beast from little old me up above.

I wait for Anubis’s solemn nod, take a deep breath designed to calm me, although I don’t know how anyone in my situation could be anywhere near calm, then begin my trek across the bridge.

I step lightly, keeping my hand on the rope to my right, although I don’t know what that will do to save me if the bridge collapses. Keeping my eyes away from the churning water to my right where schools of fish seem to be swarming the chum, I keep my eyes on the prize—the stanchion at the end of the bridge.

I use a technique I’ve used a thousand times in the Cirque. I’ve mentally rehearsed the entire operation from start to finish. I already pictured my journey across, tying the vine braid off with the same knotting technique Ryo taught me, then scurrying back across, my hand on the sturdy vine to get ready to do it again.

In all my mental imaginings, I didn’t factor in the movement. The bridge is swaying with just my scant weight! My stomach is churning worse than the waters are downstream where it sounds like a thousand fish are devouring those monkey carcasses.

I haven’t eaten since last night, but I’m certain I’m going to heave. I mentally forbid myself from leaning over the edge. If anything comes up, it will just have to splatter all over my shoes.

Then I realize all predators don’t come from below. What if another Pterodactyl decides I’d make a good lunch?

I’m terrified and nauseous and only halfway across. Just one foot in front of the other, I urge myself.

I remind myself of the first time I did a 360 drop without a harness, and a peaceful calm washes over me. It was scary as heck and I was so young, but I did it. From then on, every time I had to do something hard and terrifying, I used the moment when I conquered my fears that first time to remind me I’m strong, courageous, and talented.

“You’re doing this, Sadie,” I praise myself. Yep. I damn sure am.

After reaching firm soil on the other side, I deftly tie off the vine and use it as a handrail on my return trip.

Anubis is waiting for me at the other end. I keep my gaze on him and hurry. The moment I get close enough for him to reach, he grabs me in his arms and howls with pleasure, kissing my cheeks and hair and lips.

Zrini already has the second braided vine coiled and ready to hand me.

“I don’t want to wait around. Let’s get this over with. See you on the other side, my love,” I say to Anubis, then hurry across the bridge to make my last trip. My heart is soaring. I can’t imagine what could go wrong from here.

Anubis

I’ve watched as Zrini, Shah, Ryo, and finally, Erwann crossed to the other side without a problem. During Erwann’s trip, I chummed the water again with the remaining primates. Glancing to my right, it looks like the water beasts have eaten their fill.

Now that it’s my turn, I’m not sure whether I should hurry or go slowly. I outweigh all the others, so it makes sense for me to keep my pace calm and steady while holding onto the double vines at my right.

The other couples, not trusting the network, are on guard looking in all directions, although what they could do to protect us is unclear. We have no weapons.

I’ve watched all of them, so I’m not surprised when the bridge begins to sway when I’m halfway across. I am surprised at how much it sways. Perhaps it’s because of my weight.

All of a sudden, I hear ropes snap and the creak of the wooden planks. Within a few seconds, the bridge falls away beneath my feet and splashes loudly into the water below. Luckily, I was prepared and am holding onto the two vines my mate so bravely strung.

I keep moving, hand over hand, keeping my eyes on my Sadie.

“Anubis, you’re doing fine,” she yells. “That’s right, you’re almost there. Don’t look down. Keep your eyes on me. I love you.”

My upper body strength is good, and my primate DNA is helping me with this task.

Suddenly, with no warning, the vines snap. For the first time since I left the firm soil on the other side of the bridge, I feel a bolt of fear sizzle through me.

I’m sailing through the air, still holding on for dear life, but I’m approaching the rough, rocky side of the deep crevasse.

There’s nothing I can do but keep my grip and fold myself in half so the booted soles of my feet absorb the impact when I hit. For the briefest moment, I think of the viewers at home and wonder if they feel they’re getting their money’s worth today.

I slam into the wall so hard I feel the concussion from the soles of my feet to the top of my head. For a moment, I can’t even discern if I’ve survived in one piece.

Every inch of my body is screaming in agony as I dangle against the craggy edge. My shoulders are protesting in pain from holding my weight for so long.

Shaking my head to bring my brain back online, I force myself to climb up the vine. Looking up, I see it’s been damaged. There’s a spot several feet above me where it’s been almost cut in two by a sharp jutting rock. When I look below, I see the yellow shape of the enormous water beast speeding toward me.