Page 23 of Wandering Wild

Taking in the danger of the task before us, every swear word I’ve ever known screams across my mind. They only grow louder as I stare at the safety ropes hanging from the far side of the bridge, swaying in the breeze as if to taunt us.

“The rain must have unraveled them from this end,” I say, cursing yet more rotten luck.

Charlie glares at them. “So much for being secure.”

I shudder at the thought of what might have happened if we’d been using the ropes when they came undone. And then I shudder again when I realize the enormity of what we now have to face.

“We have fifteen minutes,” I say grimly, checking my watch. “Hawke said that once we cross this, all that’s left is for us to head straight through those trees over there”—I indicate the small thicket beyond the far side of the bridge—“and we should find the clearing for the helicopter.”

“That’s all well and good,” Charlie returns, her voice tight with fear, “but we have to live through this in order to make it to that clearing. And I’m not super confident that’s going to happen.”

I have doubts as well. “It’s your call. If you’re happy for us to try crossing it, then we will. But if you’re not, we won’t.”

Charlie makes a frustrated sound. “Don’t give me that responsibility! If we die, you’ll haunt me forever, blaming me for your untimely death.”

Despite my growing dread, my lips still curl upward. “I don’t think ghosts can haunt other ghosts.”

“You’ll find a way.” Charlie’s face is dead serious. “You’re stubborn like that.” But then she repeats her frustrated sound and says, “We have to cross it. There’s no way in hell I’m going back into that underwater tunnel to retrace our steps to Hawke and Bentley, and we still don’t know how long a search party might take to find us. This is our best chance at a rescue. In fifteen minutes, we could be on our way home.”

Or on our way to the bottom of the gorge , I think but don’t say, because as much as I don’t want to do this, I agree that crossing the bridge is our best course of action.

With our decision made, there’s no point in delaying the inevitable, so I step forward. “I’ll go fir?—”

“No.” Charlie grabs my arm to hold me back. “I’ll go first this time.” Her face is pale but determined as she explains, “Some of those wood planks look like the slightest touch will make them disintegrate, and you’re heavier than I am. If one breaks beneath me and I fall, you can catch me. It won’t work as well the other way around.”

“I knew I should have skipped that burger in Katoomba,” I mutter, rubbing my flat stomach.

Charlie groans. “Don’t make me want to laugh right now. I need all my concentration not to pass out.”

“Is this where I remind you that you’re the one who wants to go on grand adventures all around the world?” I ask dryly.

Through gritted teeth, Charlie clips out, “No. It is not.”

Now I’m the one who has to bite back laughter. But any humor I feel vanishes the moment Charlie moves to the entrance of the bridge, her hands reaching for the tattered ropes strung along the sides and grabbing onto them like her life depends on it—because it does .

“I’m right behind you,” I tell her, staying close.

I see her shoulders rise and fall as she breathes in deeply to steady her nerves, and I do the same. It does little to calm my racing heartbeat, which only speeds up more when she takes her first step onto the bridge.

Every muscle in my body is tense as I prepare to lunge for her and drag her back to safety, but there’s no need, because the wood holds under her feet. She tosses me a relieved smile over her shoulder, and then steps forward again, pausing to make sure I’m following.

My mind blares a warning as I set foot on the ancient wood, my survival instincts screeching for me to back away, but I ignore them and press onward, praying the timber will be strong enough to bear our weight the whole way across.

Step after step we venture over the bridge, balancing our weight on the sturdier outer edges of the planks where they connect to the rope rather than the weaker middle sections that bow worryingly downward.

“You doing okay back there?” Charlie asks.

“I’ve got the easy job,” I say, all of my focus on making sure she doesn’t fall. It helps distract me from the gaping holes that have started to gather between the planks the further out we walk, and how the wind is making the bridge swing in an alarming way.

Step.

Step.

Step.

We’re halfway across the gorge when the first plank cracks beneath Charlie’s boot.

A gasp leaves her and I react without thinking, dropping one hand from the rope to snake it around her waist, hauling her back against my body.

“We might skip that one,” she says shakily, patting my hand at her stomach. “Thanks for the quick reflexes.”

While the wood didn’t snap completely beneath her, the warning crack is still ringing in my ears enough that I don’t want to let her go. But we’re at the most dangerous point in the bridge and we need to press on, so I hesitantly release her and watch even more closely as she steps over the now-broken plank to settle on the next one along.

“It’s solid,” she reports, testing it with a small bounce.

“Don’t do that,” I say sternly, since I know she’s only checking to make sure it can hold my weight.

A violent gust of wind steals her reply, causing us both to latch onto the threadbare ropes with white-knuckled grips as the whole bridge sways around us.

“Find a happy place, find a happy place,” Charlie chants under her breath once the wind eases enough for us to continue.

When we reach the three-quarter mark, I start to feel tentatively hopeful that we might actually survive this without anything traumatic happening. But just as I have that thought, the gaps between the wood begin to spread even further apart, with some planks missing entirely, while others are broken and dangling vertically into the empty space beneath us. We’re left with no choice but to leap the ever-growing distances, placing all our trust in the decaying rope-railing to bear our weight as we do so.

“A safety line would be a real comfort right about now,” Charlie grits out as she jumps a two-foot gap that offers a view straight down to the churning river below.

My hands are stinging from rope burn, causing me to hiss when I leap after her and say, “If Hawke were here, he might have made us do it without the safety line anyway. What’s the point if we’re not risking death? There’s no fun in that.”

Charlie utters a strained chuckle. “Especially when the cameras are rolling. Gotta entertain the viewers.”

“Reality television is nothing if not dramatic,” I agree, flinching when the wood groans angrily under my feet. I jump to the next plank just as my previous one crumples and falls, the sight of it plunging down into the rapids prompting a wave of nausea in me.

“You okay?” Charlie asks, having heard the noise.

I don’t want to worry her, so I answer, somewhat weakly, “All good.”

But then?—

“Do you feel that?” Charlie whispers.

I don’t merely feel it—I hear it. A mix of tearing, squeaking, and snapping that accompanies everything around us shaking.

This time, it’s not the wind.

I spin around and find the cause immediately, dread filling me at the sight of the worn-out ropes unraveling behind us, our combined weight causing too much strain on the connections.

The bridge is falling apart.

And we’re still too far away from safety.

“GO!” I bellow. “Go, go, go !”

Charlie’s eyes widen as she turns and sees the danger. The next second, she’s leaping forward, with me right on her heels. We’re reckless now, unable to take the care we need while the bridge begins collapsing around us.

We leap from plank to plank, the wood cracking beneath our feet. My boot goes straight through one board that splinters on impact, and I only keep from falling with it because of my grip on the railing—but the railing is starting to loosen as the ropes continue tearing, taking any security we have with them.

“Hurry!” I urge Charlie.

A quick glance over my shoulder reveals the entire bridge is buckling now, like a giant wave, the ropes snapping free of their connections, the wood falling and crashing into the river beneath us.

“Watch out!” Charlie cries, and I face forward again just in time to see the plank she’s on crumble. My heart lodges in my throat, but she manages to get clear in time, and I use my momentum to soar the extra distance to the next safe plank, staying as close to her as I can as we sprint dangerously fast across the last remaining length of the bridge.

We’re so near to the end now that hope surges in me once more—only a few more steps until we’re safe—but then the loudest SNAP! of them all has the entire bridge losing its suspension as the ropes give way completely.

“JUMP!” I yell.

Charlie is one plank ahead of me and she pushes off the wood in the split second before the bridge loses all tension, using her velocity to fly through the air and land in a tumbling, rolling heap atop the side of the gorge.

I’m not so lucky.

The wood beneath me gives way before I can attempt a powerful enough jump, and I realize mid-leap that I’m not going to make it. There’s a weightless feeling for all of two seconds before I slam painfully into the rocky escarpment, my hands scrambling for purchase as gravity tries to pull me down the jagged slope and into the raging river far below.

I’m hanging on by my fingertips, and for one optimistic moment, I think I’ll be okay as I start to pull myself up. But then the rock crumbles beneath my hands, turning to dust in my grip, and suddenly, I’m falling.

My life doesn’t flash before my eyes. I almost wish it would, if only to distract me from the overwhelming grief I feel at everything I’m about to lose. I’ll never get to make up with Maddox, never see Summer or my adoptive parents or Gabe again, never know what might have happened with Titan’s War , never get to tell Charlie how I?—

“Got you!”

With two words, my grief evaporates—and my fall stops before it even begins.

Because Charlie is leaning over the edge of the gorge, her face white and her fingers clasped around my wrists in a bruising monkey grip.

“Hold on!” she says, grunting from the effort of bearing my weight.

I snap back to myself and try to use my legs to take the strain off her, but the rock only crumbles more from my efforts. “I can’t get any leverage!”

She tightens her hold, her features resolute as she uses all of her strength to haul me upward while rasping out, “We didn’t”— grunt —“come this far”— heave —“for you”— another grunt —“to die!”

I finally get my left boot into a solid foothold, and with a mighty push from me and another heave from Charlie, I lurch up and over the edge of the gorge, the force of our efforts sending her flying backward with me landing on top of her.

For a moment, all I can do is lie there, panting and shaking, shock setting in now that I’m no longer about to plummet to my death. Charlie holds me close and rubs my back in comfort, until finally I’m able to pull away slightly. I don’t draw back completely, just hover above her, looking down in wonder.

“You saved me,” I say, not hiding the emotion in my voice. “ Again .”

“You saved me in the tunnel,” she reminds me softly. “It was my turn to balance the scoreboard.”

I think back over everything she’s done for me on this trip, from the very first day when I had my panic attack on the mountain. “You’re still leading the tally.”

“It’s not a competition.” Her voice is breathy now as she realizes I haven’t moved. “But if it was, I’d be winning.”

My lips hitch up. Her gaze flicks to them—and stays there. Heat pools in me at the look in her eyes, and I’m helpless to resist the longing on her face. I don’t let myself consider all the reasons why this is a bad idea before I lower my head toward hers, moving slowly to gauge her reaction. Everything about her is saying she wants this as much as I do, her hands tugging me closer as one of mine moves to cup her face.

“Charlie,” I whisper her name, needing to know that she’s real, that she’s in my arms—and that she needs me like I need her.

Her lips are so close that I feel her breath on my skin, causing a shiver to roll down my spine even as warmth envelops me, the sensation sending sparks of awareness through my blood. I can’t wait any longer to close the distance between us?—

But then I hear it.

My head shoots up at the distant whup-whup-whup sound of rotor blades slicing through the air.

Charlie’s violet eyes turn fearful as she gasps, “The helicopter.”

Our heated moment is shattered in an instant, reality crashing over us as we realize what will happen if we don’t make it to the clearing in the next few minutes.

I stare back at Charlie as dread floods us both, before I scramble to my feet and pull her up with me, uttering a single word:

“Run.”