Too High

“Come on, Marty. You can’t make us late. These guys don’t like late.” Jake blew out a puff of air as he watched his fellow hiker plop one foot down after the next. Marty was at least thirty feet behind him on the narrow, uphill dirt path. “I can’t keep stopping and waiting for you.”

“So walk slower.” Marty was doing his best. He wasn’t the fittest guy on the planet, nor the slimmest. “My watch says it’s ninety-seven degrees. Plus, we’re carrying these heavy backpacks. What did you say you put in them?”

“Supplies. All of us are supposed to contribute as much as we can.”

“This whole thing is stupid. Why in the hell is this in the middle of nowhere? Haven’t they heard of global warming?”

“It’s about the experience. I told you, it’s a retreat. The idea is to commune with nature. It’s beautiful out here.”

“And we’re on a mountain trail smothered on both sides by these damned thorny bushes. You know we’re closer to the sun up here.”

“It’s 94.506 million miles away. Trust me: a few thousand feet closer doesn’t make a whole helluva lot of difference.”

“It does to me. I feel it. You don’t feel it?”

“Drink some more water already and stop complaining.”

“What’s that?”

“What’s what?”

“That… ahead of you. It looks like a trailhead opening. I thought we were already on the trail.”

They stepped up to two tall wooden posts that anchored the start of a rope suspension bridge at least a hundred feet across. It swayed in the wind. Beneath it was a deep chasm.

“Oh, hell no.”

“Marty, it’s just a bridge.”

Marty leaned backward and shook his head. “No way, man.”

“We’re almost there. We can’t turn back now.”

“Not a chance. I don’t fly. I don’t parachute. I don’t even drive over high bridges. Nope.”

“You’re afraid of heights? You’re from Denver, for crying out loud. It’s the ‘Mile High City’!”

“And I stuck close to the ground, thank you very much.”

Jake shook his head and stepped onto the bridge. As he leaned over the side for a look down—all the color drained from Marty’s face.

“We’re not even that high up. Look, there’s a river at the bottom. If you fell, you’d just make a little splash.”

“You know, we should switch majors. You take Psych and I’ll do Physics. And I saw the bottom. It’s plenty far. Speaking of school, remind me why I’m not back in the dorm studying for mid-terms.”

“Because yesterday you told me you were totally ready, Mr. 4.5 GPA.”

“Well… I should be in air-conditioning instead of this dumb sauna.”

“Don’t be a wuss, Marty. You promised you’d come with me.”

“I distinctly remember not hearing a single mention of decaying rope bridges over a thousand-foot drop.”

“Hey—I didn’t know about it.”

“How old do you think it is? Look at those wooden planks. I bet they’re termite infested. Probably won’t hold up even under your scrawny weight. I know they won’t hold mine. Haven’t you seen any of those movies where they fall through the bottom and get eaten by alligators?”

“I checked the forecast this morning. There are no alligators in the entire state of Washington today. Or ever.”

“Or one end detaches and everybody gets slammed against the other side of the mountain?”

“How many times have I asked you to do anything for me? Hmm?”

Marty crunched up his brow.

“Correct: none. But who dragged you to the infirmary after you slept with Adrianne and you were sure you had the crabs? And who told your Mom you were sleeping when she called and you were in the shower with Karen? Um… I don’t know, maybe me? It’s the ‘roomie-credo’: do unto the world as your roomie needs you to.” Jake’s mother is in sales and taught him: ‘the next guy who talks, loses.’ He waited for a response.

The two boys stared at each other.

“Forget the alligators. We’d be dead on impact. I’m going back. I’ll come around from the other side. It’s okay. I’ll meet you there.”

“This is nuts! Maybe… maybe you’d show up sometime this week.”

“I’m serious, Jake. I can’t go across that. Ever since my dad held me up over a balcony so he could get a photo he could post. My uncle was running around him to get the best angle. I think I pissed my diapers.”

“I’m going out to test it.”

“No… Jake… please don’t—”

Jake was already a quarter of the way across. Marty’s eyes bulged; he’d have noticed a fly on Jake’s shoulder if one dared to have gone along for the ride. The bridge bobbed up and down with each step—the rest of it undulated in waves in both directions. All the talk of danger had Jake’s heart working double-time. He had to admit: the rope hadn’t weathered the elements all too well. Wait: did he just hear a crack? He stopped, swallowed, and checked his footing; any more pressure on the rotted wood plank under his forward foot and it would split in two. He stepped over it and turned around towards Marty. With a huge smile and a wave, he yelled back: “See? Solid as a rock!” He continued across and triple-checked each plank as he went. All the others seemed intact. On his return trip he made a mental note of where the ‘bad’ plank was.

“Convinced now?”

“Like I said, that’s holding your weight. I’m twice your size.”

“So we go slow. Any sign of danger, we scrap it. Go back to campus.”

“Now who’s nuts? No way that thing’s gonna hold both of us at the same time. And I can’t go out there alone.”

“I’m telling you, it’s strong. I double-checked the ground supports. The rope is solid, the equilibrium’s good. The wood didn’t even creak.”

Marty studied his roommate. “You swear it’s sturdy enough?”

“Have I ever lied to you?”

Marty sighed. “Seriously?”

“Okay, okay… fair enough. But I’m not lying now, Marty.”

They did another stare off. Again, Jake waited for a response.

 “We scrap it on my call.”

“On your call.” Jake held out his hand for a shake.

Marty squinted and took another look at the bridge. “I do this—we’re even for the rest of our lives.”

Jake lit up. “Absolutely!”

He shook Jake’s hand. “Why do I have the feeling this is gonna be the death of me?” He took a long drink of water. “Lead the way. Slow!”

“I’m going to walk backwards. Keep your eyes on mine. Focus on me. Like relativity, it’s all about the frame of reference. Don’t look down.”

They edged out onto the old bridge.

“You’re doing great, Marty.”

Marty wasn’t so sure. He felt like a lab rat and the scientist reading his gauges. He could hear his pulse pound in his temples. Despite the wind gusts, he was so hot inside he was afraid his white-knuckled grips might ignite the frayed rope. Some ants crawled on the wooden planks.

“On me, Marty! Look at me!”

“Right.”

Flying bugs buzzed around Marty’s face—he wondered why the wind wasn’t blowing them off course. His breathing quickened—a cone of darkness was closing in—his vision blurred. The bridge oscillated like a pendulum. His knees buckled. “Jaaa…”

Jake darted in and tucked under Marty’s chest. He grabbed an arm and draped it around his own neck. “I got you! Breathe Marty!”

Marty heard a voice in the distance. He made it out to be Jake’s.

“Slow it down! Slower… good… better. You okay?”

Marty nodded. “But I think I’m going to puke.”

Their heads were inches apart. Marty’s breath reeked. Jake snapped his eyes and mouth shut; he held his breath; he waited for the inevitable. It took everything he had to support Marty’s body and hold his breath at the same time. A few seconds passed. Jake dared one eye open. 

Marty gave him a thin-lipped smile and a nod: his nausea passed.

Jake exhaled. “We’re halfway across, dude. You’re killing it.”

Inch by inch, they made it the rest of the way. Jake made sure they avoided the cracked plank. The instant Marty’s second foot landed on solid ground, he dropped to his knees and kissed the dirt.

“Yeah! Now that’s what I’m talking about!” Jake’s smile threatened to split his face in half. “You were great, man!” 

“I was, wasn’t I?” he eked out. Marty stood up and straightened his backpack. “Okay. I think we can go on—”

Marty puked.

Jake leaped sideways—the stream of vomit just missed him. “Whoa! Nice thrust! I’m surprised you didn’t go airborne.”

“Sorry.” Marty wiped his mouth with his hand. “Did I get you?”

“I’m good.” Jake laughed it off. “It was close.”

Marty grabbed his water and rinsed his mouth out. “I guess there was some crap down there, after all.”

“Hey… listen, I know that wasn’t easy for you. Thanks. I mean it.”

“I feel better, now. I’m ready. Let’s go.”

“When we get back, all the pizza you can eat. It’s on me.”

Marty smiled. “Deal.”

They took off down the narrow trail. The temperature had risen even more. Both of them swatted away bugs as they walked.

“I need to thank you,” Marty said.

“What for?”

“I think maybe I’m cured. I don’t think I’ll have any trouble going back.”

“That’s terrific, Marty. You’re tougher than you think.”

“How much further?”

Jake checked his map. “Should be just ahead.” He pointed at a plume of smoke above the trees. “That’s got to be their campfire.”

They moved around a bend in the trail. A clearing opened up before them; several tents lined the perimeter; dense forest surrounded it; supplies were strewn around everywhere. Five men sat on large rocks around the fire. One tended to a handful of burgers sizzling on a makeshift grill. As intoxicating as the aroma was, the thick cloud of marijuana smoke ruled.

“Smells incredible, Leon. Hope you’ve got a couple for us,” Jake said with a big smile.

“Hey… look at you, you made it. We were thinking you got lost or fell off the bridge or something stupid like that,” Leon said with a laugh. (Actually, it was a cackle.) He stood up and handed a fat joint to the man next to him so he could clap his hands. The other four tried to mimic him but were so wasted they couldn’t get to their feet.

“I guess we’re not in as good of shape as I thought we were. Both of us got a bit winded.”

“No problem-o, Jakie-boy. And don’t you fret, we got plenty of eats. But, if you wouldn’t mind, sir, I always like to take care of business first.”

“Of course. Absolutely.” Jake slipped his backpack off his shoulders and laid it on the ground. “Marty, give me yours.”

Marty looked confused, but he complied. He set his next to Jake’s.

Jake unzipped the packs and, from each one, pulled two bundles wrapped in cellophane. All four were about the size of small shoe boxes. 

Marty’s eyes opened wide. That didn’t look like supplies. “What the hell, Jake?”

“Take it easy, Marty. It’s okay.” He brought the bundles over to Leon.

The big man smiled as he took them. He spread them out among the other men. Like surgeons, they peeled back the delicate wrappings to expose solid bricks of white powder. And now the test: a dip in with their pinky fingernails for a little snort-taste.

“What the…?” Marty said.

Jake shushed him with a glare and squished eyebrows.

Leon waited on his men. One by one they looked up at their leader and gave him a nod.

Jake waited on Leon. His mom would be proud, he thought.

Leon swung his attention back to Jake. “You done good, Jakie-boy.”

“Happy to oblige, Leon. You can always count on—”

Jake’s and Marty’s jaws dropped. The last thing they ever expected to see in their lives were broken-teeth smiles on five men with guns pointed at them. They were wrong. The last thing was the muzzle flash.