She had no idea how high she'd climbed before he'd pushed her, but she kept hoping to find that gap in the rock. After a few minutes, though, during which she covered about two feet, she knew she wasn't going to. She thought she'd fallen straight backwards, but when she twisted, she must have twisted in the opposite direction from the way she'd come. Her foot never shd into any famiUar holes, and she had no other landmarks to go by. If she could just see, she'd probably see that the gap was only a few feet to one side or the other. But there was no way of telling in the darkness, and she wasn't about to start scrambhng around searching for it. Her ankle wouldn't cooperate, and even if it weren't hurt, she was no fleet-footed mountain goat. She grabbed hold of another well-planted rock and shd backwards and down another few inches.

Every move Jenny made created a small land-shde of rocks and gravel. Their skittering noise

drove her crazy. If she could hear it, so could he. She'd move, wait for the noise to stop, try to hold her breath, and listen for some other sound. She never heard one, but that didn't mean anything. He was there, she knew it. He was waiting, probably hearing every move she made. He had to hear her, she was clattering around like a one-woman band.

So what was he waiting for? Why didn't he come and get it over with? Was he just hoping she'd fall? Or was he standing there at the bottom, listening to her trying to be quiet, waiting until she got down to him?

If that was it, Jenny knew she didn't have much of a chance. She couldn't run, not on her bad ankle. She stopped and rested, breathing in rock dust, trying to figure out what to do. She couldn't go up. But she couldn't stay put, either. Even if he was down there, she had to keep going. She couldn't outwait him; she'd go crazy if she stayed still.

It seemed endless. Between the sliding and the resting, the groping around for something solid to hang on to, and the waiting for the pain in her ankle to ease, Jenny figured a snail could have outraced her. It was impossible to go straight down; three or four times her foot had hit nothing but air, and she had to heave herself sideways until she found a safer route. But with all the slipping and scrabbling, she never came across that gap in^e rock. She had no idea where she was. Down was the only direction she was certain about.

It was during one of her rest-stops that she felt

something had changed. Not the rocks, they were just as hard as ever. Not her ankle, it was still on a regular cycle of sharp pain and dull ache. But something was different. She tilted her head back, tired of inhaling dust, and that's when she figured it out: the sky had changed. It was still dark, but not the pitch-black darkness of before. Here and there her eyes were able to pick out a difference in shading, and she knew she was seeing the clouds. Morning was coming, and the sky was going to get lignter. It would be gradual, but it wouldn't be long before the light would be bright enough for Jenny to see by. And to be seen by.