Chapter 5: Clouds Cry

As they neared the upper side of Silla gorge, Nukilik and his people marched single-file through a near-blinding downfall of rain and sleet. Complicated by icy mud-slicks, slush-bottom washouts, and high-heaped rockslides, the nasty goings never let up. The quakes were now far behind, but the associated sounds and effects had not ceased. At least the thunder and lightning had moved off into the distant sky.

The path through the gorge’s higher portion should’ve been open, easy to pass through, and a bit of shelter from the storm. But at every new turn in the corridor, the natural rock formations with various overhangs had collapsed. Rock, mud, and clutter riddled the pathway.

One major rockslide, in particular, forced Nukilik to consider turning back for a regroup. Instead, he called on little Meriwa’s uncanny ability to find solid ground amid the most slippery footing. She took them up and over, one angle at a time, never missing the right handhold and never trusting in a weak foot stance. Nukilik followed, anchoring himself along the way, always ready to make a catch if his little climber made a mistake.

Still, all forward movement came to a halt at the Silla gorge, suspension bridge, or remained of it. Steam and mist hovered above the two hundred and forty feet deep canyon. Twenty-five yards from the edge of the cliff, the entire crossover system vanished into the fog. Of the visible sections, the left upper cord was tight and doubtless remained intact across the span. But significant gaps and dangling vertical boards made the bottom left rope untrustworthy. The right side was missing altogether.

Every other method for crossing the ravine was a three-plus days march in either direction. The wave of destruction was not that far in the rear. But at least the crying in the clouds had slowed to a minor weeping.

“I go first,” Adlartok said. “I’m nimble, light in weight, and strong.” The tall, dark-haired girl had moderate curves and firm muscles in her mother's likeness but enjoyed no significant excess of bulk.

“Cupun can come with me. He’s not that heavy, and he has the P7 for defense on the other side.”

“No way,” Tulugaak said. “I got this.”

He was tall and thick muscled, not so hefty as his father but still weighed in at more than Adlartok and Cupun combined.

“No,” Amka said while glancing a challenge toward her husband. She was a quick-witted woman, strong-willed, action-orientated, and practical-minded. She, too, was lean and tall.

“Adlartok is right. We have sufficient rope here to secure both her and Cupun. A fall would mean a hard hit against the rocks on this side of the ravine’s wall, but...”

“Both would survive, and we have sufficient strength available for hauling them back up,” Nukilik said. “Let’s make this happen.”

“No baggage,” Amka said as Adlartok tied off to her end of the guide rope. “We must first test the way.”

“Not without her bow,” Nukilik said.

—

The mist above the Silla gorge ravine was hot and slimy. Adlartok suspected that the lava had breached the Panama River. Before the great sinking, the waterway had flowed near ground level, and people had crossed via a gated system now destroyed and washed away. But now, the river, over one thousand feet below, was invisible from up here. So was the bridge as it stretched before them, a bouncing ribbon of twin ropes and dangling boards that vanished a mere thirty feet further into the white nothingness.

Cupun had tied in six feet behind Adlartok, his dark brown eyes wider than usual and his small long-fingered hands locked tight around the rope. They were fifty feet out and still able to find reliable footing on the torn sections of deck rope even though the sway gave way to their weight. They were always leaning rearward, battling an ever-present pressure on their upper arms and shoulders.

Adlartok let out a soft chuckle and lessened her grip. “We aren’t falling, brother.”

Cupun glanced up, grunted, and then shook his head from side to side. His hold on the rope remained firm.

The others watched the crossing, hands above their eyes as though that could better enable vision into the depths of the mist. Adlartok’s father and Tulugaak managed their end of the guide line. A high-peaked and settled rock served as endpoint and anchor.

Adlartok trusted her father. Reaching the other end of this raggedy excuse of a bridge was inevitable. Yet, the occasional quivers in the pit of her knees continued. She wanted to think it had to do with the bounce in the ropes but knew better. The position of footing put a strain on her legs even as it stressed her upper body. She expected a long, arduous journey.

As though in agreement, the clouds burst open with blinding teardrops that closed off all vision save that which was but an arm’s length distant.

—