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“You have rope? Because we could really use some about now.” Renzo busied himself gathering every scrap that could burn, making a heap by the edge of the ledge, away from the overhang. Next, continuing to ignore Canaan, he carefully spread out the space blankets and anchored them with dozens of rocks.
“That’s it? You’re just going to do your stupid plan? No matter what I say?”
“Canaan.” Renzo finally stopped his work and came back over to the boulder. He crouched in front of him and held his face with dusty hands. “Please don’t fight. Don’t send me away angry. Please.”
“Stop trying to play hero, and we won’t have to fight.”
Renzo’s response was a frantic kiss, one that shook Canaan to his core, because in it he could taste Renzo’s desperation, feel how badly he needed to do this, could feel the fear Renzo would never admit to, and could sense something else, something new that had changed in their hours here on the ledge. Something big, a swell of emotion like a high tide, coming to sweep away everything he thought he knew about himself and his life. And it didn’t seem to matter that he wasn’t prepared for these emotions, because there they were, swamping him.
When they finally pulled away, Renzo’s eyes were glassy, mouth swollen, and he said simply, “Please.”
“Okay.” Canaan nodded because really what else could he do? “But not until noon at least.”
“Not until then.” Renzo sat next to him on the rock for a long time, neither of them speaking, that big, new...whatever seeming to hover between them, coloring everything, even their breaths. Finally, though, Renzo spoke again, showing Canaan how to use the waterproof matches and the signal mirror, and talking logistics about how rescue operations usually worked.
Canaan asked him more about the missions he was at liberty to talk about, and the morning passed both painstakingly slow, no rescue in sight, and way too fast.
“Okay. Here’s the deal. The water level’s down. See?” Renzo pointed at the canyon beneath them. And yeah, the water was down, no longer rushing, looking more like a water-filled ditch than a whitewater death trap, but Canaan still didn’t trust it.
“Ten more minutes. You should eat and drink before you go. Don’t worry about leaving me enough water. Hydrate.”
“Okay.” They’d eaten the second sandwich some hours earlier, but Renzo ate some trail mix and another protein bar, minutes seeming to slip away with every bite. Canaan had no appetite himself, and shook his head when Renzo offered him half the bar.
Renzo started stretching—his arms, then his back and legs, clearly preparing for an ordeal.
“I hate this.”
“I know. Me too.”
“I...” Canaan was about to let all those emotions that had plagued him all morning come tumbling out when he heard something. “Wait.”
“Can’t.”
“No. Wait. Listen.”
“Helicopter.” Renzo looked skyward. They couldn’t see it, but there was a definite hum to the air. “Signal fire. Now.”
It didn’t light on the first try, and Renzo cursed. “Fuck. Need better kindling. Wish we had paper.”
“I know,” Canaan commiserated, then straightened. “Wait. We do.” He pulled out his wallet, getting out the paper printout of the picture of him and his family along with his cash and the ticket stub.
“Your picture—”
“Can be replaced.”
“Okay, okay.” Renzo’s teeth dug into his lip as he removed his own wallet, got out his own pic and a receipt, added it to their meager pile.
“Is that the receipt from when we had ramen?” Canaan’s chest went warm and loose, despite his anxiety over the fire.
“Maybe.” Renzo’s neck colored as he worked on the fire. And low and behold, their paper additions worked, and the fire caught. “Okay, now I’ll do the signal mirror.”
Seconds passed. The helicopter noise got closer.
“I see it!” There on the horizon was a dark spot that gradually got closer and closer. It dipped and Canaan whooped, but then just as quickly, it leveled out and seemed to head away from them. “What the hell? How could they miss us?”
Chapter Fourteen
Renzo could feel Canaan’s disappointment rolling off him in huge waves. The despair in his voice speared Renzo right in the gut.
“Not sure. They could circle back. They could have seen, and now they need to come up with a plan. There’s not exactly a landing zone nearby for them.” Renzo tried to preach patience, even as his own spirits sagged. “And it’s a good sign. Means people are searching. If I do my plan, I’m more likely to encounter searchers, lead them back to you.”
He didn’t want to leave Canaan, and the moment he’d spotted the helicopter had felt like destiny, like maybe he wouldn’t have to venture out. But of course, life was never that simple or easy. Time for him to carry out his mission.
“Five minutes,” Canaan pleaded. “Let’s do the whistle now, see if maybe there are searchers on the ground.”
