Tommy looks up once everything is secure.
“Ready for the carry,” he says.
We position ourselves around the stretcher.
Chris rests a hand lightly on Owen’s shoulder.
“You can walk with me,” he says. “My friends will carry your daddy to the ambulance.”
The little boy nods and steps closer to him.
When we lift, the weight settles into my arms, familiar and grounding.
Below us, the path winds down toward safety.
Beside us, Owen walks with Chris, asking quiet questions in a voice that tries very hard not to sound afraid.
And Chris answers every single one.
By the time we reach the vehicles, my shoulders ache in that familiar, satisfying way that only comes from carrying weight that mattered.
Chris helps Owen climb into the back of the waiting ambulance beside his dad.
“You did brilliantly,” Chris tells him quietly.
Owen nods, serious about it.
“By Chris,” he sniffles.
Chris gives him a small smile.
Rob and Nick secure the stretcher while Tommy speaks briefly with the ambulance crew, handing over details. Efficient. Routine. Controlled.
Then it’s over.
Just like that.
The urgency dissolves, leaving behind only the mountain and the wind and the steady rhythm of our breathing.
Alex and I start back up the path toward the cache point where we left some of the gear. The climb back up is quieter. Slower. The adrenaline has burned through my system now, leaving clarity in its wake.
My head feels clean in a way it didn’t this morning.
Alex walks beside me for a while without saying anything. He knows better than to rush the silence.
About halfway back up the path, Alex glances sideways at me.
“You look like shit,” he says.
I let out a breath.
“Yeah,” I admit. “Too much to drink.”
He snorts.
“So I’ve heard.”
I glance at him.