Free Shatterproof by Roland Smith Page B

slowly, and I can’t look down. I’m a little acrophobic.”
    Phoenix risked a glance at the boiling river a hundred feet below and his stomach lurched. He grabbed on to one of the roots, wondering if he suffered from fear of heights, too.
    Or maybe it’s the fact that I can’t swim. Not that anyone could swim in those rapids.
    “How’s your hand?” Alistair asked, pushing on despite his obvious pain.
    “It’s okay,” Phoenix said, which wasn’t true. It was swollen, painful, and useless. He could only use his left hand to anchor himself in place and his heart squeezed each time he had to let go and take another step.
    “Any sign of Reagan and Nellie?” Alistair asked the group behind him.
    “No,” a weary-looking Natalie replied.
    Phoenix was about to volunteer to go look for them when the ground lurched beneath him. The wet dirt he was standing on seemed to quiver, then peel away from the path. Phoenix lunged for the side of the cliff, but his legs windmilled under him. It was too late. His world shifted into terrifying slow motion as he began to plunge into the rapids far below.
    “Nooo!” Alistair leaped forward, falling hard on his bad knee, but all he could grab was Phoenix’s injured hand.
    Phoenix could hear the others screaming, but he couldn’t see them. He was dangling over the river with the gray face of Alistair Oh looming above him. He frantically scrambled for a foothold, or something to grab on to with his good hand. But there was nothing beneath him but air. The pain from his injured hand was excruciating, and the blood made it slippery. He could feel Alistair’s grip starting to fail.
    “Hang on!” Alistair shouted. “I have you!”
    Phoenix’s weight was pulling Alistair closer and closer to the edge. Phoenix’s eyes blurred with tears as the hideous truth struck him. If he didn’t let go, they would both die.
    Alistair must have seen the resolve in Phoenix’s expression. “Don’t let go!” Alistair pleaded.
    Phoenix shook his head then, closing his eyes as tightly as he could. He pictured his mom’s face, the good-night smile she gave him when she used to tuck him in.
    And Phoenix let go.

“Did someone just fall?”
    Natalie barely heard the question over her sobs. Incredulous, she turned her head to see a hiker standing behind her.
    “Did someone fall?” he repeated urgently.
    Natalie looked at him in confusion. He was in his early twenties, carrying a backpack slung over his shoulder.
    “Our friend just . . .” She choked up again. “He . . .”
    “Stay exactly where you are,” the man said. “I’m going to squeeze by you.”
    Before she could object, he slipped nimbly by her and Ted, who was frozen in horror.
    Fiske stared at the man in disbelief. “Who are you? How did you —”
    “Never mind that,” the man interrupted. “The ground isn’t stable!”
    Together Fiske and the hiker pulled the devastated Alistair to his feet.
    “I . . . I couldn’t hold on. . . .”
    “It’s a long fall,” the man said, looking over the edge. “But there’s a chance he’s still alive. Can he swim?”
    “I don’t know,” Fiske said, looking with a spark of hope at Ted and Natalie.
    Natalie shook her head. She didn’t know, either.
    “The rapids are bad through here,” the man said. “But they flatten out about a mile downriver.”
    “Who are you?” Fiske asked.
    “My name is Martin Holds. I was up on top when I heard someone yell.”
    “You got down here pretty quickly,” Fiske said.
    “I guess I did,” Martin said. “I’ve been down this path before and I’m a mountain climber.”
    “Where are we?”
    Martin looked confused. “You don’t know?”
    Fiske shook his head.
    “Baden-Württemberg.”
    “Germany?” Fiske asked.
    Martin nodded. “The Black Forest.” He looked at their clothes and a whisper of alarm crossed his face.
    “How can we get down there?”
    “The trail’s out. The only way around is to go back on top. I have a cell phone