Read Online Twistor by Gene; John; Wolfe Cramer - Free Book Online
Authors: Gene; John; Wolfe Cramer
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white slope marked with dark footsteps he saw George, last on the rope and heaviest of the party, momentarily frozen in the act of losing his footing as a snow step crumbled away. As David watched, George flailed, pivoted, and toppled into a downward slide, head first on his side. He twisted, pivoting on an elbow as he planted the short wide blade of his ice axe in the snow to halt his fall. That, it seemed, was a mistake; George was falling too fast for that maneuver. The broad blade bit out a shower of snow, and the ice axe jerked and was wrenched from George's grip, his acceleration continuing unchecked. A clearly enunciated 'Shit!' echoed resoundingly from the nearby rock walls.
David felt his heart speed up from an involuntary adrenaline spurt. He watched as George's red-clad figure moved leisurely down the slope, trailing the dark rope, moving toward the jagged rockfall below, twisting as he maneuvered into a stomach-down, head-up position. George was trying without much effect to slow his fall by digging toes and elbows into the snow. The rope straightened, stretched, and stiffened, shedding snow and moisture as it became a vibrating line. George was slowed momentarily as the impact hit Rudi, now kneeling in the snow, the narrow spike of his ice axe planted about halfway up the blade.
But David could see a problem developing. The climbing rope, which should have absorbed the shock at Rudi's waist, well centered on his braced position, had somehow become draped over his shoulder instead. The impact levered him up and backward, and now he was sliding down the snow slope head down on his back, his axe blade pointing uselessly toward the sky.
I'm next, thought David. We're like dominoes. Those two falling now are both heavier than I am. George must mass about one-hundred-twenty kilos, and Rudi perhaps ninety. When that quarter ton of meat hits the end of the rope, I'll never be able to stop them. They'll drag me off too, and then there will be three of us falling. We'll pull Paul off, and that will make four. We're going to end in a pile of broken bodies on those sharp rocks down there. In a day or so maybe someone will find what's left of us. We're going to die right here, right now. And this was only supposed to be a Class Three climb!
Somehow the thoughts racing through his head seemed to calm David, as if someone else was about to die as he observed remotely. With control and precision he kicked deep toeholds in the snow and then nudged out depressions for his knees. He made sure that the rope was positioned correctly, then chopped the long thin blade of the ice axe into the grainy snow, his right hand gripping its top at the cross of the tee while his left held the handle so that it passed under his right arm, adjusting the stance until it felt right. It all seemed to be taking quite a long time.
The impact, when it came, was not the sudden crushing blow that David had anticipated. The climbing rope was surprisingly flexible, like a rubber band. He could feel it stretch as the force built and the rope cut deeper into his waist. He was slowing them! He had the brief illusion that his braced position would hold, that the two would stop. But then the rough snow crumbled beneath his left foot and he too was falling, the rubber-band effect now accelerating him to join his comrades in their tumble to the rocks.
He was sliding on his stomach, feet down. His axe blade was cutting through the crusted snow like a knife, a plume of frosty fragments streaming out behind him as he slid. In his right hand the ice axe pulled with a force that was close to the limit of his strength. But he found that by levering back to reduce the axe blade's bite in the snow he could bring the force down a bit. He slid on, cursing and working to dig in his toes.
This must be using up a lot of the available gravitational energy, a detached corner of his mind murmured. Energy-in is energy-out is force times distance:
E = mgh = f F. dl.
A big
David felt his heart speed up from an involuntary adrenaline spurt. He watched as George's red-clad figure moved leisurely down the slope, trailing the dark rope, moving toward the jagged rockfall below, twisting as he maneuvered into a stomach-down, head-up position. George was trying without much effect to slow his fall by digging toes and elbows into the snow. The rope straightened, stretched, and stiffened, shedding snow and moisture as it became a vibrating line. George was slowed momentarily as the impact hit Rudi, now kneeling in the snow, the narrow spike of his ice axe planted about halfway up the blade.
But David could see a problem developing. The climbing rope, which should have absorbed the shock at Rudi's waist, well centered on his braced position, had somehow become draped over his shoulder instead. The impact levered him up and backward, and now he was sliding down the snow slope head down on his back, his axe blade pointing uselessly toward the sky.
I'm next, thought David. We're like dominoes. Those two falling now are both heavier than I am. George must mass about one-hundred-twenty kilos, and Rudi perhaps ninety. When that quarter ton of meat hits the end of the rope, I'll never be able to stop them. They'll drag me off too, and then there will be three of us falling. We'll pull Paul off, and that will make four. We're going to end in a pile of broken bodies on those sharp rocks down there. In a day or so maybe someone will find what's left of us. We're going to die right here, right now. And this was only supposed to be a Class Three climb!
Somehow the thoughts racing through his head seemed to calm David, as if someone else was about to die as he observed remotely. With control and precision he kicked deep toeholds in the snow and then nudged out depressions for his knees. He made sure that the rope was positioned correctly, then chopped the long thin blade of the ice axe into the grainy snow, his right hand gripping its top at the cross of the tee while his left held the handle so that it passed under his right arm, adjusting the stance until it felt right. It all seemed to be taking quite a long time.
The impact, when it came, was not the sudden crushing blow that David had anticipated. The climbing rope was surprisingly flexible, like a rubber band. He could feel it stretch as the force built and the rope cut deeper into his waist. He was slowing them! He had the brief illusion that his braced position would hold, that the two would stop. But then the rough snow crumbled beneath his left foot and he too was falling, the rubber-band effect now accelerating him to join his comrades in their tumble to the rocks.
He was sliding on his stomach, feet down. His axe blade was cutting through the crusted snow like a knife, a plume of frosty fragments streaming out behind him as he slid. In his right hand the ice axe pulled with a force that was close to the limit of his strength. But he found that by levering back to reduce the axe blade's bite in the snow he could bring the force down a bit. He slid on, cursing and working to dig in his toes.
This must be using up a lot of the available gravitational energy, a detached corner of his mind murmured. Energy-in is energy-out is force times distance:
E = mgh = f F. dl.
A big
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