Chapter 7: Over Your Word Limit

The wind had come up while they were at dinner, and the rope bridge was dancing.

It was made of clothesline, climbing rope and Dot's good extension cords.

It hung across a gap with nothing under it but white cloud.

Teddy had already gone over with the camera. He was a small dark shape on the Shelf side, waving.

Katja stopped at the edge and put one hand on the pine.

She had four conversations' worth of things to say, and none left to say them with.

"It's fine," Harvey said. "It's a very good bridge. I tied it. Do you want me to go first?"

She held up a card, and he could not read it, because there was no light.

It said NO.

"I'll take that as a yes," he said. "Look at the back of my shirt. Not down."

She stepped out onto the ropes.

The first ten feet were easy.

The bridge swung a little and she swung with it, with her hands on the side lines.

Her eyes stayed on the gray-green patch between Harvey's shoulder blades.

The next ten were harder, because a gust took the whole span and pitched it sideways.

She stopped moving.

Her hands stayed on the rope. Her feet did not.

Harvey took two more steps, felt the line go still behind him, and turned around.

"Hey," he said. "You've got this."

Katja did not have this.

It was fifty feet down to the first cloud and, as far as anyone knew, forever below that.

The bridge had a long slow roll in it that went through her knees.

"Katja."

His voice had changed. It was low and flat, and nothing was running in it.

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