Strangers

found exactly the right branch. It had to be sturdy, yet not much higher than the fence, with which it would form the opposing stanchions of a rope bridge. He put the Star Tron away again.
        From one of the rucksacks, he removed the four-pronged grappling hook that had been one of the many items on Ginger's and Faye's shopping list when they had visited Elko earlier in the day. Tied to the hook was a hundred-foot length of hawser-laid nylon rope, five-sixteenths of an inch in diameter, the kind made for serious climbers and capable not only of holding one of them but of supporting all their weight at the same time.
        He tested the knot where the line tied to the hook, though he had tested it a dozen times before. He arranged the coil of rope at his feet, stepping on the loose end to prevent the entire length from being carried away when he pitched the grappling hook, but leaving most of it free to pay out. "Stand aside," he said. Dangling the hook from his right hand on two feet of line, he began to swing it around and around, faster, faster, until the whoosh of it cutting the air was even louder than the storm wind. When he felt the velocity was right, he let go with his right hand, and the rope slipped loosely through his left hand, trailing after the grapple. The hook arced up and out into the storm. Though it had sufficient mass and momentum to be unbothered by the wind, it fell short of its target by about three feet.
        Jack reeled it back through the snow, churning the virgin mantle. He had to jerk on it a few times and then patiently finesse it when it got caught on something. He was not concerned about dragging it across the buried pressure-sensitive grid, for it was not nearly heavy enough to trigger that alarm. In a minute or two he had it in hand again. Without having been told what to do, Dom had knelt and coiled the rope once more as it came in. Now Jack was ready to try again.
        His second pitch landed just where he wanted it. The hook firmly snared the target branch.
        With the grapple securely planted, he took the other end of the rope to the nearest fence post. He slipped it through the chainlink about seven feet off the ground, wrapped it around the post, threaded it through the chainlink on the other side, and all the way around the post again. He pulled on it with all his strength, until the line between the post and the distant tree was taut. Then he enlisted Dom's and Ginger's help to keep it taut while he knotted it tightly to the post.
        As a result, they had a rope bridge that was seven feet off the ground where it began at the fence, angling up to a height of about nine feet at the tree. That slight incline, even over a mere thirty-five feet, would make the crossing more difficult, but it was as near to level as Jack could make it.
        He jumped high, grabbed the line with both hands, swung his body back and forth a few times to get momentum, then kicked up and threw his legs over the rope, crossing his ankles atop it. Like a playful koala bear clinging to the underside of a horizontal branch, he hung with his face turned skyward and his back parallel to the ground. By extending his arms behind him and pulling himself on the line and by alternately scrunching his legs up and extending them while keeping his ankles locked, he could inchworm along with no danger of touching the ground. He demonstrated the technique for Dom and Ginger. Before he reached the danger zone defined by the pressure-sensitive alarm grid, he let go first with his feet, then with his hands, and dropped to the ground.
        Dom tried getting onto the line. He attained a handgrip with his first jump. But he needed a full minute to swing his legs up and over, though he did it, then dropped back to the ground.
        Ginger, only five-two, had to be given a boost to get a proper handgrip. But to Jack's surprise she required no assistance to kick up and wrap her legs over the line without delay.
        "You're in pretty good shape," Jack told her.
        "Yes, well," she said, swinging back to the ground, "that's because every Tuesday, on my day off, I eat buckets of vareniki, several pounds of graham cracker cake, and enough blintzes to sink a ship. Diet, Jack. That's the key to fitness."
        Shrugging his arms through the straps on one of the rucksacks and buckling it in place on his back, Jack said, "Okay, now, I'll cross the rope bridge first with the two