“What is it?”
“It’s our miracle.”
“That’s not a miracle.That’s crazy.” Shanti stared through the binoculars at the rope bridge below, almost dizzy. “Whole planks are missing.”
She was done with this running-through-the-jungle thing.
“Do you have a better idea?” Connor took back his binoculars, tucked them in his pack. “I’ll test it first.”
He walked to the edge where the stairs ended, grabbed the rope guides, and gave them each a good, hard yank. “Here goes.”
Shanti could barely breathe as Connor turned to face her—and stepped over the edge and onto the ladder.
He put his full weight on the first rung, gave a little hop, and then stepped down to the next. The wood creaked, but it held. If it could support his weight, it would support Shanti’s. Or so she told herself.
He climbed back up. “It’s good. There are some missing rungs, and it rocks a little when you move. But I think it will hold.”
“What if it doesn’t?”
“That’s why it’s good to have a backup plan.” He reached for his pack, drew out a coil of orange and yellow rope. “We’ll wait until dusk when thermal crossover makes it harder for spotters on the suspension bridge to see us with their infrared scopes. Then I’ll make you a harness and set up an anchor. If you fall, I’ll stop you.”
Shanti didn’t know what thermal crossover was, but she was more afraid of falling than she was of guns. “Won’t I just pull you over the edge?”
“Not a chance. You’ll see.”
They ate their dinner—chicken and noodles with vegetables—and watched as the sun sank behind a horizon of clouds, turning them pink. If she’d been a tourist and not running from an army, she would have loved this.
“When it’s not trying to kill us, this is a beautiful place.”
Connor looked into the sunset, pink-gold rays making his face seem impossibly handsome. “I suppose it is. It’s been years since I’ve been able to look at a jungle and see anything other than a job site.”
After they’d eaten supper, Connor got out a pair of leather gloves and set about building the anchor, securing one end of the rope around the trunk of a sturdy teak tree. Then he wrapped the rope around his waist, knelt before her, and began to tie the free end around her hips and between her legs.
“Let me adjust this. It won’t be comfortable, but it will hold you.”
She stood still, her pulse already racing.
He got to his feet, cupped her face between his palms. “You can do this, Shanti. If you slip, trust that I’ll catch you—anddon’tscream.”
“Right.”
They got into position—Connor on the stairs, Shanti on the edge facing inward.
“Don’t look down if it scares you. Remember to give me three tugs on the rope when you’re down. If I fall, you keep going.
“Don’t you dare.”
He gave her a lopsided grin. “Good copy.”
Shanti hesitated, her heart thudding.
This is the way home, the way to safety.
Her gaze on Connor’s, she took hold of the guide ropes and stepped over the edge and onto the first rung. The ladder swung a little, but the step held.
Connor fed her a little rope at a time as she climbed carefully down. “You’re doing great. One step at a—”
A rotten plank broke beneath her feet, the pieces falling to the water below.