The Colossus Rises

  I laughed. “It would serve him right.”

  “I’m not sure,” Aly said.

  “You guys are crazy,” Cass said, peering up the sharp incline.

  Torquin’s voice came thundering from the top of a rock scramble. “Babies need nap? Cass want Mommy, Daddy?”

  With a snort of a laugh, he turned and continued hiking.

  “I loathe him,” Aly said.

  Cass’s face was turning a deep red. His eyes were glowing with anger. “The path is actually a few yards behind us. We make a left and climb straight upward to the base of the black rock.”

  “Bingo,” Marco said. “You lead.”

  We followed Cass back down the path and found an opening—a trailhead to a very steep climb. Marco went first, shinnying up vines and over huge boulders. He pulled a rope from his pack and dropped it down to help the rest of us. We continued like this, going on our own until it became too hard, and then relying on Marco to help us over the tough parts.

  We were making quick progress. After about a half hour, we climbed onto a wide rock ledge and rested. “This is it,” Marco said. “The base of the cliff. Great job, guys.”

  Cass, Aly, and I flopped down onto our backs, breathing hard. From this perch I could look out over the island and see the Karai Institute compound. The athletic building shone like a brick of ice, steel gray in the cloudy sunlight, and the people crisscrossing the lawn looked like orderly insects. A puff of smoke went up from a chimney behind the kitchen.

  Above us the black cliff rose nearly straight up to the very top of Mount Onyx. It was about the height of a twenty-story building. “Man, we’re close,” I said. “If we were Spider-Man—bam—we’d be at the top in seconds.”

  Cass gulped. His face had lost color and I could tell he was forcing himself not to look down. “From here,” he said, gesturing to a section farther along, where a pathway led away from the cliff, “we take that path, which leads us off this ledge and around the mountain again, where we connect with the main trail—”

  But Marco was already unloading a pile of ropes, clips, picks, and shoes from his pack. “What the heck is that stuff?” Aly asked.

  “Harnesses…camming devices…anchors…” Marco said.

  “I thought you said you had rocks and bricks in there,” Cass said.

  “I lied,” Marco said with a shrug. “Hey, I’ve been wanting to do this since I got here.”

  “I’m not going up that!” I said. “It’s nearly vertical.”

  “I agree,” Aly said, turning away. “This isn’t The Eiger Sanction. Fail, Marco. Epic fail.”

  Cass was shaking. “Aly and J-J-Jack and I—we’ll stay behind as lookouts! At least I will!”

  “This kind of climbing doesn’t work if one person chickens out,” Marco said. “It’s totally safe, and this equipment is state-of-the-art, right from the KI gym.” A smile crept across his face. “So strap on those harnesses and shoes. Even you, brother Cass. ’Cause if you don’t, I’m carrying you. And that will be no picnic for either of us.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  BELAY ON!

  CASS’S FACE WAS bone white as Marco tossed him a wrapped-up clump of equipment. “Man up, guys. Have no fear, Marco’s here. We’re using a belay system.”

  “B-b-ballet?” Cass squeaked and turned to us. “We’re dancing up the cliff?”

  “Belay.” Marco tossed us each our own packets. “I’ve done this a hundred times. Just copy what I do.”

  I was not expecting this. I hoped this was an elaborate practical joke.

  We stood there, dumbfounded, until he shot us a no-is-not-an-option glance. He was carefully putting on a helmet, a harness, and a fancy belt that wrapped around his waist and thighs. The belt contained an arsenal of clips. He looked like a host on the Nature channel.

  “We do this in pairs,” he said, as we began donning our own gear, “the climber and the belayer. Both are harnessed to the rope. The first climber is called the lead. The belayer stays at the bottom, feeding out as much rope as the lead climber needs. The rope feeds through these cool locking mechanisms on our belts. So if the climber slips…shhhhk!…the belayer’s lock grips tight. The rope goes taut, the climber doesn’t fall. When the lead climber gets to the top, he belays everyone else from up there. Got that?”

  “No,” Aly said.

  “Not in a million years,” Cass added.

  “Watch.” Marco lifted a cable full of hooks, slings, and eye-shaped devices from his backpack. He quickly changed into a pair of lightweight, low-cut friction shoes. “The soles are supergrippy,” he explained. “I brought a pair in everybody’s sizes. I’m smart that way.”

  “Supergrippy?” Cass mumbled. “Sounds like the lamest cartoon hero ever.”

  Marco reached up, holding tight to a gap in the rock. Keeping his torso close, he dug his foot into a tiny rock dimple and then began hoisting himself up—hand, foot, hand, foot. After a few steps, he let go and jumped to the ground. “See? Gravity’s your friend. As long as there’s the slightest incline, you can do it, no problem. Each time the lead climber sees a good place—a chink, a space between rock, whatever—he or she sticks in the spring-loaded anchor. Like this.”

  He jammed a small metal anchor into a crack, attached a small loop of rope to it, and pulled to make sure it held tight. Then he used something I recognized—one of those pear-shaped aluminum loops with a hinge, like you put on your backpack to attach things. “This is a carabiner,” he said. “Inside it, you hook the loop and the rope. So the rope stays fast to the anchor, but it still has freedom to move up and down. Safer than going up a flight of stairs! Okay, we need a lead climber and a belayer. Volunteers?”

  “I’ll watch,” Aly said. “For now.”

  Cass opened his mouth, but no sound came out.

  I thought of belaying and letting Marco climb. But I took one look at Cass and Aly, and I had a sudden fear: Without Marco to keep Aly and Cass in line, with just me on the ledge, they might refuse to go up. And then I’d have to climb alone.

  I hated not to trust them. But even more, I hated the idea of being last.

  “I’ll do it,” I blurted out. “I’ll climb first.”

  Cass and Aly stared at me like I’d lost my mind.

  “Woo-hoo, let’s hear it for Jack McKinleeey!” Marco shouted. He pulled his machete out of his belt and handed it to me. “Take this.”

  “Why?” I asked.

  “Just in case,” he replied. “You never know what may be up there.”

  Fool. Idiot. Moron.

  It’s hard to put on friction shoes when your brain is screaming at you. But I had no choice now. No retreat, no surrender. Marco was hooking himself up to the belay harness. Cass and Aly looked as if they were telepathically planning my funeral.

  “Okay, I’m allowing you some slack in the rope as you climb, but not too much—so if you fall, it won’t be far,” Marco said. “When I’m ready, I say ‘Belay on!’ You say ‘Ready to climb.’ I answer, ‘Climb away.’ If you need more rope, yell ‘slack.’ If you want me to tighten, yell ‘rope.’ Got that?” He turned to Cass. “And when it’s your turn, no tricks. Don’t say ‘epor.’”

  “Wasn’t even thinking of it,” Cass replied.

  I nodded numbly. Looking up, I saw only one crack. The one Marco had already used. The rest of the rock looked like it had been gone over with a power sander.

  “Belay on,” Marco said. “Now you say ‘Ready to climb!’”

  “Ready to climb,” I squeaked.

  Marco put his hand on my shoulder. “Climb away, brother Jack.”

  “Stop calling me that,” I snapped. “You make me feel like a monk.” Grabbing the handhold, I pulled myself up. I tentatively dug my foot into the rock.

  I reached up for another handhold, my fingers drumming desperately on the rock. “You don’t need much, dude!” Marco called up. “Just a small indentation. Anchor with fingers, push with feet. And keep your body close to the rock.”

  M
arco was right. The shoes made a difference. Also the angle. My head was maybe six inches forward of my feet. That gave me more balance than I’d imagined. I could push into the smallest bump with my toes and my fingers.

  Push, reach. Push, reach. I was climbing!

  “Find an anchor!” Marco called up.

  I was staring into a deep crack that hadn’t been visible from below. Perfect. “Rope!” I called out.

  Marco pulled the climbing rope snug. I jammed an anchor into the crack, attached the carabiner, and snapped the rope into it. “Slack!”

  I was picking up speed now. And confidence. I could see an abandoned metal tower at the top. I dropped a couple of anchors in the rush to jam them into the rock. I was getting sloppy. Marco was yelling at me from below.

  Soon I was swallowing sweat. Gulping breaths. Feeling light-headed.

  “Slow down!” I heard Marco’s voice shout.

  I forced myself to stop. Catching my breath, I looked downward.

  Big mistake.

  Marco was a dot next to two specks. My heart began pumping so hard I could see the movement through my sweat-soaked shirt.

  Go. Get there now!

  I pushed and reached. My foot slipped off, but I held on. With each climbing step I felt a stab in my thighs. My arm muscles ached. The wind rushed down on me over the top of the mountain, buffeting my ears. I could hear voices below, but I had no idea what they were saying. All I knew was that the lip of the mountain was just above me. The summit.

  With a final grunt, I curled my hand around the top. The skin on my fingers had practically peeled off. I pushed as hard as I could with my legs. I hoicked one elbow over the top, and then another.

  Directly above me was the old tower.

  “I—I made it…” I gasped. “I made it!”

  Slowly I pulled my face up over the ledge. And I came face-to-face with bloodshot eyes and gleaming sharp teeth.

  CHAPTER TWENTY - ONE

  THE TUB

  MY FINGERS LET go.

  Lurching backward, I screamed. The summit gave way to a blur of rock. I flailed my arms, trying to grasp something, anything. The weight of my pack pulled me backward. The tower gave way to the blanket of blue sky.

  And then I jerked to a sudden stop. In midair. As if a giant fist had reached up and socked me. My field of vision went white. My torso seized upward.

  I was traveling sideways now, flying back toward the rock. I followed the rope with my eyes. It was swinging from the anchor I’d just jammed into the topmost crack. I put my arms up for a shield.

  I hit the rock full speed.

  “Grab it!” Marco’s voice floated up from below. “Grab the rock!”

  My hand was bleeding. I gripped on to a crack, but my fingers slipped. With a jolt, the rope sank lower. I heard a sickening squeal as it pulled on the anchor.

  My entire weight was being supported by a thin aluminum clip and Marco’s grip. If either one of those gave way, I was dead.

  I wiped my hand on my jeans and tried again.

  There. Fingers in hole, two feet planted. “Cuh—!” I squeaked, my voice raw and parched. I swallowed and tried again. “Coming down!”

  “Climb on!” Marco replied.

  He hadn’t heard me right. “Not ‘climb on’ —climb down! There’s an animal up there!”

  “What kind of animal?” Marco called up.

  “Hungry!” I replied. “Red eyes. Ugly. Bad. That kind. Can we have this discussion when I reach bottom, please?”

  “You can’t!” Marco said. “Go back and scare it away!”

  “You are out of your mind!” I said.

  “Jack, calm down. It’s more afraid of you than you are of it,” Marco called. “Cass says the only possible thing it could be is a bear. You startled it. As long as you’re not attacking its babies, you’re good. In fact, it’s probably gone by now!”

  “And if it’s not?” I yelled.

  “You have the machete, dude!” Marco replied. “Use it. Worst-case scenario, you turn and rappel.”

  “What’s rappel?” I asked.

  Marco went silent for a second. “Oops. Guess we didn’t talk about that. It’s how you get down.”

  My blood was oozing down the rock now. “Just lower me now!”

  “We don’t have enough rope,” Marco said. “You’d fall halfway. You’d die. Just go up, dude. Be careful. If you’re safe, unhook yourself and give me a tug.”

  “Fall to my death…be eaten by a jungle mountain beast…Let me think about it a minute!” I yelled.

  Marco, Cass, and Aly were tiny, barely discernible. It was only by some trick of acoustics—and Marco’s big voice—that I could hear him.

  I refused to return to the Karai Institute a flattened blob of ex–human being. I took a deep breath and felt the machete, still snug against my side. I had never hunted, never battled an animal. But there was always a first time.

  You will not be scared.

  “Ready to climb!” I called down.

  “Climb on!”

  The blood on my hands was starting to clot. My stomach was sore from the fall, and each step felt like a punch to the midsection. I willed myself to stop shaking as I made my way back up.

  Slowly.

  Just below the summit I stopped. If the thing was there, it would see my fingers reaching over the top. Instead I dug my fingers into a deep fissure just below the surface. I kept them there while I stepped upward, locking myself into a crouch. From that position I raised my head slowly over the top.

  I could see the base of the abandoned black tower. A long, flat stone platform. A clump of trees. Rocks. Nothing else. The mysterious beast was gone.

  “Hello?” I called out.

  Holding on with my left hand, I grabbed a loose rock with my right and threw it into the trees.

  No sudden motion, no attacking streak of black.

  Just do it.

  I pulled myself up to the top and swung my legs over. As the wind rushed over my body, my breaths came in ragged, painful gulps. Squinting to avoid the sun, I stood on shaky legs and took a few steps in. If the thing were going to surprise me, I didn’t want to fall back. Pulling out the machete, I muttered, “Just try it, suckah…”

  The beast was nowhere to be seen. The top of the mountain was an enormous flat surface that seemed to stretch out for a mile. I expected it to be barren, but a small section of it had tree cover, mostly pines, rising like a clump of hair about fifty feet to my left. I figured that was the top of the easy path—the place where Torquin would eventually emerge.

  The wind whistled around me, whipping up from the jungle below. At this height it looked like a dirty carpet stretching all way to the compound, which now resembled a toy village. The distant sea surrounded the island like a scarf.

  I felt a tug on the rope and remembered what I was supposed to do. Stick it through the locking mechanism on my harness. Belay the other climbers from above.

  Cautiously I set down the machete. “Belay on!” I yelled as loud as I could.

  I felt a tug on the rope. And a barely audible response. A frightened, high-pitched, quavery scream.

  Could have been either Aly or Cass. Marco was making them go first.

  For a jock, he was pretty smart.

  “I don’t believe this guy,” Aly said, her voice hushed.

  She, Cass, and I stared down the mountain at Marco.

  Aly’s climb had been smoother than mine—once she got past the first few minutes, she was a natural. Cass had whined and complained the whole way and had had a few major slips. But we were there, all three of us. And we were pretty proud of ourselves.

  Until Marco began his climb.

  “Here comes Spidey!” he screamed, scampering up like an animal. Somehow he was managing to loop the rope through his own harness as he climbed. I wasn’t even belaying him.

  And the worst part was that he was whistling. Whistling.

  When he reached the top, he launched over it into a double somersau
lt and sprang to his feet. “Ta-da!”

  “I. Did. Not. See. That,” Cass said.

  “Wild applause,” I said, looking around warily. “Now let’s find this thing and go. And keep an eye out for a big beast with a snout and sharp teeth.”

  “Sounds like the vromaski,” Aly said.

  “The vromaski is fictional,” I said, “from our dreams. If it ever existed, it died out a gazillion years ago. So maybe we look for something real?”

  Aly raised an eyebrow. “Well, excuse me for living.”

  She stomped off, plopping herself down at the edge of a long, rectangular rock near the tower, her back to us.

  I felt like a total jerk. I hadn’t meant to sound so sarcastic. Things were too tense. I was letting my nerves get the better of me.

  “Uh-oh, Romeo,” Marco whispered. “A little repair work needed.”

  “Belay on,” I said with a sigh.

  I sat at the other end of the long rock. It was sunken in the center, so I had to perch carefully. “Hey. I’m sorry.”

  “Hi, Sorry,” she said, still looking the other way. “I’m Aly.”

  “I shouldn’t have been such a jerk,” I said.

  “Yup, you shouldn’t have,” Aly replied. “But I guess suggesting the vromaski was dumb. I have my dumb side.”

  She turned toward me with a hint of a smile. And then her butt began sliding down into the center of the sunken rock.

  I let myself slide, too, and we collided in the middle, laughing. “First time I’ve ever been in a bathtub with a guy!” she said.

  I could feel my face turning red.

  And then we both stopped laughing at once.

  Other half on peak in tub.

  Together, without exchanging a word, we jumped off the rock. Dropping to our knees, we began feeling around the outside of it. The rock was solid, save a large crack that ran along the base. One part of the crack was wide enough for fingers. I pulled up, but it was heavy. “Help me,” I said to Aly.

  She came to my side and dug in. The rock moved a fraction of an inch. It was an entire corner of the tub, a large, loose cubic section. “Cass, Marco—we found it!” Aly shouted.