Short story: Canyon Rescue
Here’s another short story I wrote based on the prompt: “Your character is young, easily embarrassed and self-conscious. The story begins on a cliff. The theme is: a race against time.” Enjoy! :)
The wind whipped through the canyon like a tornado, gathering the chalky red dust from crumbling arches and cliffs and spreading it relentlessly across the red soiled plains below. Isaiah hadn’t noticed the storm brewing in the distance. Thick, foreboding masses of clouds welled up in the sky like a wall. Oh, but he did notice another storm approaching.
“Hey!” a voice called to him as he sat next to the cliff. Isaiah looked around nervously but he saw no one. It made him shiver.
Why would there be anyone out here? Wasn’t this far from civilization? Wasn’t this known as Doom Canyon? Isaiah only wanted peace and quiet as he sat cross-legged in the dirt, his knees only inches from the cliff drop.
The voice came again much louder, “I need your help”
This instantly got Isaiah’s attention and he jumped up to his feet and searched the area. Dirt. Dry shrubs. More dirt. Nothing.
He paused waiting for the voice to call again. Silence.
He considered where the voice had come from, but it was difficult to tell with the wind as strong as it was. He rubbed his eyes and sputtered as dirt from the wind caught in his lips and nostrils. “Ack!” he coughed.
Then he heard it again. A whimper of pain. The wind was now becoming turbulent as the storm approached. Isaiah bent forward and spread his feet wide to keep himself upright against the wind that threatened to take him over the cliff. He slowly moved towards the edge, despite every nerve in his body telling him the opposite. He choked in surprise. There, just over the cliff was a middle aged man hanging by the root of a tree down the cliff face. The man evidently saw Isaiah as he cried with whimpers of desperation, “Please, help!”
“Hi, Sir, I want to help you,” he tried to yell back over the wind that sucked the breath from his lungs. He got down on his belly to lay flat and reached down towards the man, but he was so far off it was impossible to reach him that way.
A rumble of thunder made Isaiah’s palms sweaty. Only a few more minutes before the storm hits. The sky was already darkening and he could see lightning flicker through the dark mass of clouds on the horizon. What should he do?
His car was parked too far away to run there to get anything. This cliff was a part of a trail, far away from roads or civilization. He had no cell reception. All hope for the man seemed to vanish as Isaiah turned idea after idea over in his head.
He looked over the cliff again. Sure enough the man was still there, but he was growing anxious and worried as the storms thunder claps came closer together and the sky darkened to where one might have thought it was dusk.
Isaiah fretted. What could he do? The man was just out of reach and he had nothing to drop down to the man to pull him up. Or did he?
Isaiah’s cheeks flushed red with embarrassment at the idea but he couldn’t let this man die. He shakily removed his pants and twisted them into a rope-like shape. He then dropped the pants down to the man for him to grab. The man looked surprised at the sudden salvation but he quickly grabbed on and Isaiah struggled with all his being to pull him up.
It began to rain. The red soil that made up the cliff crumbled at the edge falling on the man below. Isaiah winced at the man’s cries of pain, “Don’t let go!” The man grabbed at the pants and air desperately as the wind blew him in all directions like a hanging ornament. Lightning flashed close by and the dirt began to soak up the water and form mud. Isaiah’s bare knees were scraped raw and bloody as he pulled the man up. As the man’s trembling hand finally touched the top of the cliff, Isaiah stumbled backwards. The man slipped and Isaiah only barely caught his hand. He couldn’t make out the man’s face in the dark and rainy wet mud clung to the man’s features besides.
Finally pulling the man up with a gasp and slight embarrassment he took the now sopping wet pants and clothed himself once more before falling to his hands and knees in exhaustion.
The rain came in torrents and the wind carried it with force against the canyon, soaking their bodies as they both rested.
He crawled to the man, and to his horror he was unconscious. With genuine anguish that he may have done all for not, he carefully dragged the man’s body away from the cliff, aiming for the shelter of some brush a distance back. Once there he propped the man against a fallen log and waited for the storm to pass. Isaiah was soaked to the core and began to shiver from the cold the storm had brought. Every now and then he checked the man’s pulse. Yes, he was still alive. Isaiah’s heart skipped a beat. Perhaps he just went into shock.
It felt like hours before the rain subsided and the darkness broke into warmth from the afternoon sun. Isaiah laid back on the rocky soil in relief though he still shivered and he was very wet.
Gathering strength, he carried the man to his car. By the time he arrived, his knees wobbled from the weight of carrying the man and from the ordeal. He wasn’t sure he should even drive in his condition but he knew that the man’s life could be at stake. He drove to the nearest hospital, an hour away. At the hospital he called them, unable to do much else for exhaustion, both physically and mentally.
A week later he visited the hospital to see his new friend, the man, a doctor from Washington. “Isaiah,” the man said with warmth as he entered the hospital room, “So good to see you.”
Isaiah smiled as he drew near the bedside, “How are you mending, sir?”
The man smiled gratefully, grasping Isaiah’s hand firmly, “You saved my life. I’ll never forget it.” He paused, his expression becoming curious. “But I was wondering: where did you get the pants you rescued me with?”
Isaiah blushed then smiled gently. He knew, but the embarrassment had been more than worth saving the man.
What would YOU be willing to do to save someone?
THE END