The rope twitched in her hands as he descended the rock wall.

"Jack!" she called.

Either, he didn't hear Lyla or he ignored her.

Gripping the rope tightly, she advanced ever so slowly toward the edge. The nagging sensation, which had begun as a twinge of nausea nestled in the pit of her stomach, had become a full-blown virus that infected her brain and set fire to her entire nervous system. Every fiber of her being was ringing an alarm – GET HIM OUT OF THERE! NOW!

Literally shaking in her boots, she peered over the edge and watched him make his way toward the crevasse.

"Jack, please come back."

He squinted up at her and shouted, "It's him."

Some thirty feet below the precarious spot from where she watched, he teetered toward the twisted body. Keenan lay on his back, an expression of anguish imprinted on his gray, contorted face, his hips and legs wedged into the fissure, one arm jutting straight out of the crevasse into the open air.

As Jack drew closer, he gagged.

She saw insects swarming the body.

He covered his nose. "God." His expression indicated that his breakfast very nearly evacuated his stomach. He waved the hostile flies away from his face, reached into the crevasse, hooked Keenan's underarms, and strained. The body moved freely.

Jack's boot slipped from its foothold. Before he could react, he slid downward along the slope of the rock formation, clawing for a ridge to cling to.

The slack rope in Lyla's hands suddenly went taut. She clamped the rope with all her strength and dug her heels into the dirt to anchor herself.

"Jack!" she hollered.

He managed to regain his footing and a secure grip on the rope. "You okay up there?" he called.

"Me? Seriously?! What happened?!"

"No worries." He tried to sound reassuring but failed miserably.

"Jack, come up here. Let's—"

"I got this." He climbed back to his original position above the corpse.

"Jack, please." Tears welled in her eyes.

He tuned her out, focusing on the task at hand. He held his breath, bent forward, and latched onto the waistband of Keenan's pants. He tugged. The body slid forward into Jack's arms but would move no further. Keenan's foot was bent at an unnatural angle, trapped deep in the crevasse.

He made another attempt. This time he yanked more forcefully but yielded the same result.

She gazed down from her perch.

He shook his head. "His foot is stuck. It's too narrow for me to reach down in there."

"There's a broken branch up here," she said. "Want me to drop it down?"

"For what?"

"Maybe you can use it to dig into the crevasse and pry his foot loose."

He shrugged. "I'll give it a try."

She maneuvered the branch to the edge. "You ready?"

"Do it."

The branch bounced against the surface of the rock face when it fell. With agility, he snared it from the air.

"Got it," he said, wiping the dust from his eyes. He shoved the end of the branch down into the crevasse and poked Keenan's trapped foot, working to dislodge it.

Clinging to the lip of the crevasse with one hand, his awkward position prevented him from exerting his full strength on the branch. He maneuvered the tip of the branch against the toe of Keenan's boot, pressed downward, and just as it appeared he'd freed the captured foot, the branch slipped off.

From thirty feet above, she watched. Jack persisted but he was becoming discouraged.

A breeze picked up and sent a cloud of dust swirling. Small dried branches and sticks clattered against the hardened soil.

SNAP.

A branch cracked in the wooded area behind Lyla.

SNAP, SNAP.

She turned. Something was headed in her direction.