“Are you all right?” Rachel asked, crouching beside him.
“Just banged up,” Jason replied. “How about you?”
“I made a luckier landing,” Rachel said. “Having clothes on must have helped. These pants may not be the most stylish, but they’re made of tough material.”
Suppressing a groan, Jason sat up and began checking his wounds by the light on his wrist. No elbow or knee had escaped abrasions and bruises. One thigh had the largest scrape, beneath where his boxers had torn—a blotchy discolored wound streaked with thin lines of blood and sensitive to the touch. His palms were raw. Thankfully, nothing felt broken. Just sore.
“The scrape on your thigh looks nasty,” Rachel commented.
“Could have been worse,” Jason said, finally beginning to relax. “I could have lost a limb. Or my head.”
“I’ve never seen anything like that crab,” Rachel said. “I thought we were goners. Did you see what it did to that dog? I mean, that was a big, strong dog.”
Jason winced. He didn’t expect to get the image of the dog’s violent death out of his head anytime soon.
“It was probably a good thing,” Rachel consoled. “The conscriptor had turned it into a monster.”
Jason shook his head. “Nothing deserves to die like that.”
“It was disgusting.”
“Thanks, by the way,” Jason said, “for helping me keep my balance.”
Rachel smiled. “I heard you stumble. You might not have fallen. I hope I didn’t slow you down.”
“I probably would have fallen,” Jason admitted. “You pretty much saved my life.”
“What are friends for?”
Jason stood up. “We should keep moving.” He could hear the crab snipping frantically at the narrow gap again, probably drawn by his open wounds. The passageway curved, so Jason could not see Macroid from his current position. He wondered if the dog had already been devoured; then he tried to shut down his imagination.
Jason and Rachel examined the room. Off in one corner a wooden platform attached to a chain dangled perhaps a foot off the ground. An iron lever projected from the wall beside it. Jason crossed to the platform and looked up. Most of the rocky ceiling was dark, but daylight spilled in through a single tall shaft. The chain from the platform stretched up the center of the shaft, which had to be nearly as high as the cliff. Sunlight came in through an opening in the side near the top. In the lofty sunlight he saw where the barbed chain disappeared into the rocky ceiling.
“A primitive elevator?” Rachel asked, gazing up as well.
“Looks like it,” Jason said. “Should we see if it still works?”
“Give me a second,” Rachel said, lacing her hands behind her head and blowing out air. “I’ve never almost died before. Not really.”
Jason noticed that her eyes looked a little misty. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah. No. I don’t know. I mean, a giant man-eating crab? Seriously? What have we gotten ourselves into?”
“A big mess,” Jason agreed. “At least we survived. And we already have a third of the Word.”
She took a shuddering breath. “Way to find the bright side.”
Jason fingered the iron lever. “Think the lever will make the elevator rise?”
“I sure hope so,” Rachel said. “If we have to climb a barbed chain, I might walk back to Galloran and ask to be put on his secret farm.”
“Hop on,” Jason suggested. “I’ll lean over and pull the lever.”
“I’ll throw the lever,” Rachel corrected. “I should do something.”
Jason almost argued, but stopped himself. “Fine. Then we’ll be even.”
“No. I still jump off the next cliff.”
“I’m hoping we’re finished with cliffs.”
“You know what I mean. I’ll take the next big risk.”
“I really was trying to be nice.”
She studied him skeptically. “I think it also had a lot to do with getting your own way. If we want to succeed, we need to be able to trust each other. I can be stubborn too. But we need to be teammates.”
“You’re right that I like getting my way,” Jason admitted. “But sometimes stubbornness can be a good thing. Like when Coach Bennion tried to quit.”
“Who? What?”
“I was in seventh grade, playing baseball with a club team. Coach Bennion was an assistant. He really helped me with my swing. Anyhow, our real coach was very strict. One day he had to go out of town, so Coach Bennion was running practice. Bennion was more laid back, and a bunch of the guys started goofing off, since Bennion wasn’t much of an enforcer.”
“Were you one of those guys?” Rachel asked.
“We were all guilty. Bennion tried to put his foot down, but we smelled weakness, and some of the guys talked back to him. I’d never seen Bennion mad, but his face went red, and he told us he was done; we could coach ourselves. I felt horrible. I followed him off the field, apologizing and telling him we’d do whatever he wanted to make it up to him. He told me to run a hundred laps. He wasn’t being serious. He was just trying to get rid of me. He got in his car and left.”
“And you ran a hundred laps?” Rachel asked.
“Most of the other players went home. A few ran part of the way. But I ran a hundred laps. I mean, I walked part of it. When my mom came to pick me up, I explained what had happened, and she let me keep going. It took until after midnight. Somehow Coach Bennion heard. And he decided not to quit.”
“That’s pretty cool,” Rachel said.
“Being stubborn can be good!”
“Not if it makes you a bully. I’ll never be able to trust you during a coin toss.”
“True, I may do something terrible like risk my life instead of yours.”
“You had good intentions,” Rachel acknowledged. “It was even sweet. But with the kind of danger we’re in, trust matters a lot.”
Jason folded his arms. “Okay. I’ll make you a deal. Next time instead of taking matters into my own hands, I’ll argue until you give up.”
“That would be better. But don’t count on me always giving up.”
Jason stepped onto the platform. Splintered and rotting, less than three feet square, the planks thankfully felt solid. Rachel climbed on as well, gripping the heavy chain below where the barbed wire links started as the platform gently swayed.