Chapter 6 - The Last Man Off the Ridge
I read Daniel Mercer's messages so many times that the words stopped looking real.
The official report is wrong about what happened afterward.
Afterward.
Not before.
Not during the fall.
Afterward.
I typed a reply.
What happened afterward?
The message showed as delivered.
No answer.
I waited five minutes.
Then ten.
At the twenty-minute mark, my phone rang.
Unknown number.
I answered immediately.
“Daniel?”
A young man's voice came through.
“You need to stop texting me.”
“I'm sorry. I just—”
“Please.”
He sounded frightened.
I forced myself to slow down.
“Okay. I won't contact you again unless you want me to.”
Silence.
Then he asked, “Did they tell you he died right away?”
I closed my eyes.
“Yes.”
Daniel made a small sound.
Almost a laugh.
But there was no humor in it.
“They told my mom that too.”
My heart pounded.
“Daniel, what happened?”
“I fell. My leg got caught between two rocks. I couldn't move.”
I pressed the phone against my ear.
“Nathan heard me.”
His voice broke.
“He came back.”
I couldn't speak.
“He told me to stay awake. He kept talking to me while he tried to get me free.”
“What happened to him?”
“The ground gave way.”
I covered my mouth.
“He fell maybe fifteen feet. Not straight down. He hit the slope and rolled.”
I squeezed my eyes shut.
“Was he conscious?”
“Yes.”
The word struck harder than anything else.
“Yes,” Daniel repeated. “He was conscious.”
I leaned against the wall.
“Then why—”
“He told me to call for help.”
Daniel began breathing faster.
“I did. I called on the radio. I told them we had two casualties.”
“What did they say?”
“Wait for instructions.”
I felt sick.
“How long?”
“I don't know. It felt like forever.”
“Did anyone come?”
“Eventually.”
“Who?”
“Price and two others.”
I gripped the edge of the desk.
“Was Nathan still alive?”
Daniel started crying.
“Yes.”
I stared at the floor.
“He was still alive when they got there?”
“Yes.”
The room seemed to tilt.
The report I'd been given said Nathan's injuries were immediately fatal.
Daniel was telling me something else.
I struggled to breathe.
“Daniel, did he say anything?”
A long pause.
“He kept asking about you.”
My knees weakened.
“What?”
“He said you were going to be mad because he hadn't fixed the kitchen cabinet.”
A sound escaped my throat.
The cabinet.
Our stupid kitchen cabinet.
The door had been hanging crooked for months.
Nathan promised every weekend he'd fix it.
Every weekend, something came up.
I sank onto the floor.
Daniel continued.
“He said you always pretended you didn't care, but he knew it drove you crazy.”
I laughed once.
Then I cried.
For several seconds, neither of us spoke.
Finally, I whispered, “Did he suffer?”
Daniel's answer was quiet.
“He was scared. But he kept trying to calm me down.”
I pressed my fist against my mouth.
Then Daniel said:
“There's something else.”
I wiped my face.
“What?”
“When they finally got us down, Nathan was still breathing.”
My chest tightened.
“Daniel—”
“I heard someone tell the medical team he had no signs of life.”
I froze.
“Who?”
“I couldn't see. They were moving me.”
“Did you recognize the voice?”
Daniel hesitated.
“I think so.”
“Who was it?”
He whispered:
“Major Brant.”
The call ended.
I sat on the floor with the phone in my hand.
For the first time, my question had changed.
May you like
I no longer wanted only to know why Nathan had been sent onto that ridge.
I wanted to know what happened during the minutes when he might still have been saved.
