Free Kill Decision by Daniel Suarez Page A

over it with a crossbow and hauled her climbing rope up after it, securing both ends using climbing knots and a dual line technique she’d learned as a grad student to hook up her harness.
    Readjusting her position, McKinney gazed out across the jungle from this hilltop tree at the densely forested peaks of the Usambara Mountains still shrouded in mist in the distance. There was an immense diversity of sights and smells. It was always breathtaking up here. She never failed to notice how beautiful these mountains were, wrapped in low cloud cover and jungle canopy—humid and profuse with life. Reveling in the natural world was as close to the spiritual as McKinney got. She knew it was on this continent—possibly in this very jungle—that the first hominids arose, beginning the journey that separated mankind from the other animals. Becoming self-aware. She felt humbled by the vast stretch of history this place had seen.
    She looked down to track the progress of her companion, a sinewy African boy of about ten. He, too, wore a rock-climbing helmet and sat in a climbing saddle suspended from a separate rope. He was laboriously working his way up—his booted foot looped through a rope stirrup. The boy grunted as he pushed up with his leg, ascending another few inches, then readjusting his knots.
    McKinney pointed. “Don’t grab the Blake’s Hitch, or you’ll lose ground. Keep your hands below it. That’s better, Adwele. Good.” She smiled at him. “How you holding up? Need a rest?”
    He shook his head. “No, miss. I’m good to go.”
    She nodded. Adwele was always good to go, ready to learn something new. Unafraid. “Don’t push too hard. Take your time and concentrate on form.”
    He glanced down. Then looked up, flashing a white smile. “Look how high we are!”
    “Check that out. . . .” She leaned back on her rope and pointed at the hills. “This is the way birds see the Amani.”
    Adwele looked out at a view he’d never seen, though he’d lived his entire life here. A grin spread across his face.
    McKinney could see the wonder in his eyes, his growing fascination with the natural world. She saw so much of herself in him. It gave her pause.
    A maternal pang was all it was, she knew. The lost decade of her postdoc work, the long hours and low pay of an associate professor. While other people were settling down, she’d been traveling in the remote regions of the world doing field research. It was an adventurous life, but not one suited to being a parent. Besides, there were already enough people in the world, and what she was leaving behind for future generations was her research. She took a deep breath.
    “Let me see how your knots are holding up.” She walked the tree trunk to come alongside him. McKinney checked Adwele’s rig section by section. “Stopper knot’s still solid. Nice bridge. Figure-eight looks good.” She examined the Prusik knot wrapped around the main line and pushed the loops more tightly together. “Was this slipping when you ascended?”
    “A little.”
    “Keep it snug like this, and it won’t slip even if the rope gets wet.” McKinney glanced below them. “About time to add another safety knot too. Every ten feet. Remember.”
    “Yes, miss.” Adwele nodded and deftly tied a slipknot into the rope that trailed away beneath him. There were similar knots at intervals in the line below.
    She rapped on his helmet with her gloved hand. “You’re becoming a pro. Now, remember, it’s important to follow all of the steps. What happens when we get careless?”
    “Hospital or worse.”
    McKinney nodded. “Yes. Very good.”
    “Why does Professor Haloren use a metal tool to climb instead of all these knots?”
    “You mean an ascender? Because Professor Haloren is lazy.”
    Adwele laughed. “He says you’re cheap.”
    “Equipment can malfunction, and when it does, you’d better know how to do this yourself. Once you can tie these knots without thinking, you can use an