But I was struggling. My legs burned, and the jagged rock I clung to sliced my fingers and made my wrists throb. Sweat already dripped down my spine, yet the sun still wasn't visible. The day was only going to get hotter, and after yesterday's drenching, the humidity would be hell.
Friction from my damp socks rubbed on my heels, and the higher I climbed, the worse it got. Most of my body already ached, but my bruised elbow throbbed so much it had its own heartbeat.
The rock under my left hand crumbled. I shrieked as I slid sideways, clawing at the rocks, scrabbling for purchase.
"Charlie!" Mitch's cry boomed from below.
Doug clutched my wrist. "Grab on."
I clawed at the stone and found another handhold. Doug's grip was painful, his fingers digging into my skin. Yet he'd saved me. Why?
"Thanks," I gasped, hating that I was grateful.
"Just keep going."
"You okay?" Mitch's tone was shredded with worry.
"I'm fine," I lied.
My heart tried to punch through my ribcage, and I could hardly breathe.
A thick, gnarled root stuck out of the rock just above me. I gripped it with my aching fingers, my knuckles burning. Finding a foothold, I pressed my forehead against the stone and paused to rest. I breathed in the earthy air and listened to my heart pound in my ears.
"You've got this," Mitch called up.
I almost laughed. It came out as a sob.
"Stop messing around," Doug growled. "Climb, goddammit."
"Piss off."
"Climb, or I'll shoot you." His tone was upbeat, almost sing-song.
"Oh yeah? Why don't you, huh?" I shot him a death stare. "You're gutless, that's why."
Doug shifted the gun toward my knee. "I've seen a man take a bullet through his kneecap. Trust me, it's painful."
I sucked in a breath. Was he serious? "What are you messed up in, Doug?"
"You don't want to know." As he shook his head, I sensed regret in his gaze, but it vanished in a flash. "Go."
"Charlie!" Mitch yelled. "You can do this."
Turning my gaze upward, I searched for my next handhold and pulled myself higher.
Why is he keeping me alive?
As I climbed onto another ledge, the answer wormed into my mind. He needed me as security. Mitch would do anything Doug said while that gun was aimed at me.
By the time I reached the halfway point, every muscle in my body was burning. My hands were covered in scratches, my thumb was bleeding, and several fingernails were broken from clawing at rocks. My arms trembled so badly I could barely hold on.
And it was so damn hot, sweat oozed from every pore.
Though I couldn't see the sun beyond the ravine, as it rose, it painted the walls in shades of red and gold that would excite any artist.
Every time I pushed off the stone, the chafing skin on my heels stung like hell. Blisters were forming, adding to all my other pains.
"How much further?" I gasped.