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Her left arm hung uselessly at her side and her feet dangled in the air unable
to find any foothold. Her entire
weight hung on the fingertips of her right
hand. Already the ache in her
fingers told her that she would only be able to hold on for a few more seconds,
and then she would plunge to her death.
“My own fault,” she thought, “for coming here on my
own.”
Desperately she looked for a way out of her
plight. A few feet to her right
there was a small ledge, but it was just out of reach of her right
foot. Even stretching her leg
parallel she could not reach it.
There was just a faint chance of getting out of her
predicament. Using what was left
of the strength in her arm she hoisted herself a few inches up the cliff
face. Then pushing with her legs
she was able to make her entire body swing like a
pendulum. This was extremely
dangerous, as it loosened her precarious hold on the tiny ledge that was
gripped by her fingers, but she did not have much
choice. “Desperate measures
for desperate circumstances,” she muttered.
Slowly her body began to arc back and
forth. She would only have a
few seconds to make this work and then she would be
lost. She felt her fingers slipping
off the ledge. She stabbed wildly
with her right leg and gained a slight hold on the narrow ledge she had been
straining to reach. Now she had
two purchase points on the cliff face, but her body was angled across the
rock at about twenty degrees off the
perpendicular. Her position had
improved only marginally. Now
she had to find some way of getting her body upright and secure on the ledge
her foot had reached.
The next maneuver would be just a risky as the
first. She was gong to have to
release her handhold and move her fingers to a different location that would
enable her to pull her body more upright.
It would require incredibly fast reflexes to pull off such a gamble,
but again, she had no choice. She
could not remain angled against the cliff face for much longer without losing
her grip.
Her situation was not made any easier by the fact that her heavy pack was
still strapped to her back, but there was no way that she could hold on and
release the straps that held it in place.
Her left arm seemed to be
paralyzed. There was a strong
possibility that her shoulder had been broken by the chunk of rock that had
come loose from the cliff face and struck her on the way
down. It was the sort of
freak occurrence that happened from time to time when rock
climbing. “That’s why
climbers always climb with a buddy,” she
thought. Only, in her desire
to forge ahead she had decided to climb on her
own. Now there was no one to
help her and no help was expected.
She would have to get out of this mess by
herself.
It was time to act; her strength would not allow her to hold on much
longer. Compacting her body as
much as she could, Larra pulled upward and stabbed her hand toward the handhold
she had spied that was directly over the ledge her foot was
on. Immediately she began to
fall as her body lost its support.
Now her finely conditioned body and lightning reflexes saved
her. Her fingers closed over
the new handhold and halted her fall.
Now she was jackknifed over the chasm with her hand gripping desperately
to the handhold she had found, and her one leg planted on the
ledge. Straining her arm until
the muscles bulged and the tendons stood out she slowly pulled herself
upright. Panting heavily from
the exertion she finally stood upright on the
ledge.
Sweat streaming from her body, Larra carefully released her grip, letting
the narrow ledge under her feet take all of her
weight. The ledge was wide enough
that she could actually turn around and sit down on it, letting her feet
dangle over the edge of the abyss.
She removed her pack and set it on the
ledge. She looked above
her. Only ten feet over her head
was the top of the cliff. She
would have to find a way up there, but right now she needed to
rest. She also needed to check
out her injured shoulder.
Slowly, Larra unbuttoned her shirt and peeled the fabric away from her left
shoulder. She could see that
it was very badly bruised but she could detect no visual
abnormalities. Tentatively, she
probed it with her right hand.
Where the flesh was bruised it was quite painful, but there did not
seem to be any broken bones underneath.
Her arm and shoulder were, however, quite
numb. The impact of the falling
rock must have damaged some nerves.
In any case, her arm was quite useless for the time
being. She could have to scale
the cliff using only her right arm.
Gently, she massaged her shoulder, trying to rub some life back into
it. She was beginning to get
her strength back, but would still need a few more minutes of
rest. As she sat on the ledge
recuperating, her mind drifted back a few months to the beginning of this
latest adventure.
It had started in her country home
in
Never one to be completely idle, Larra was engaged in organizing her extensive
notes when a letter arrived. Her
African maid, Sarah entered the room with the morning
mail. Larra smiled at the
beautiful Ugandan woman. She
had been with Larra since her first archeological discovery in the Mountains
of the Moon. There was more than
a mistress-servant relationship between the two of
them. They were more like sisters,
but Larra was like that with most of her female
companions. They liked to be
close to her more because of their friendship with her rather than because
Larra provided them with financial
support.
There was a letter from the British Foreign
Office. Larra opened that letter
first. She frowned as she
read it. “Did this arrive
by the Post?” she asked?
“No, Miss Larra, it came by courier.”
Larra read it again and handed it over to Sarah. “What do you make of
this, Sarah?” she asked.
“It seems very strange Miss Larra,” replied Sarah in her Ugandan
accented English. “But if
it means a trip home, I think you should look into
it.”
Larra smiled. Sarah’s English
had improved tremendously during her time with
Larra. Larra had originally hired
her as a nurse and governess for her son, James, but she had soon turned
into more than that. Larra found
that the forced subservience Sarah had been obliged to adopt toward her white
masters hid a lively intelligence.
Larra had encouraged Sarah to be more than just a
servant. She had taught her to
read and had worked with her to improve her English beyond the level of that
of the pidgin English that had been all that was required of most servants
in Uganda. Sarah had blossomed
under this tutelage. Her confidence
had increased to the point where Larra had left her in charge of much of
the raising of her son when she had left on her many lengthy and distant
archeological adventures. The
more responsibility Sarah was given the more she seemed to grow intellectually
and spiritually. Larra now valued
her as a confidant and advisor and would frequently seek her advice on important
matters.
“You know, Sarah,” Larra said, “I think I
will. How would you like to organize
a trip into
“Ah!” exclaimed Sarah.
“
Larra read the contents of the letter one more
time. It seemed a very strange
document, especially considering its
source. The British government
was not known for its imaginative
correspondence.
Sarah soon had the household organized.
Larra’s other female companions thought the unexpected excursion
to be a wonderful idea. Larra’s estate was somewhat isolated and
Larra booked a private compartment
on the train. She found that
it was better if five such stunningly beautiful women isolated themselves
a little from the public; otherwise, they seemed to draw too much
attention. The trip to
The journey from Larra’s estate just outside of Tunbridge Wells, south
of
She went alone. The other members
of her party scattered to the various areas of
Jia Li and Amy headed off to look for
clothes. The Chinese girl was
slowly settling into her new environment, strange as it was to
her. Prior to leaving
Larra used the letter she had received to get an appointment with Anthony
Eden, Britain’s current Foreign
Minister. She found her meeting
with the senior member of the British government to be one of the strangest
that she had ever attended. The
letter she had received had not been very specific in many
areas. It had been clearly intended
to whet Larra’s appetite for adventuring, but when
“I am afraid I am,” said
“But this man Burroughs is nothing more than a writer of fanciful
fiction,” Larra protested.
“I think he may be more than that.
Let me show you his letter.”
Larra took the piece of paper that the Foreign Secretary offered and read
through it quickly. “You
believe what this letter says?” she said, raising her
eyebrows.
“I neither believe nor disbelieve.
But it is most disturbing, and I would like you to check it
out. I would like you to travel
to the
“Why me?” asked Larra.
Larra frowned slightly. Yes,
she had encountered the Germans before, and not all of her memories of that
encounter were entirely pleasant.
Larra felt both flattered and
annoyed. She had always wanted
to visit the
“If that is your only caveat consider your conditions met,” replied