A Writer’s Book of Days Exercise: Recovery

A Writer’s Book of Days Exercise: Recovery

Cara braced herself in the tiny space, back pressed hard against the too-soft earth behind her, feet dug into the soil in front, on the other side of the break. Her support rope hung in the air in front of her, attached to her belt at the belly, giving the impression of a neon-coloured umbilical cord. The position wasn’t comfortable, the harness pinched her skin at the hips, and there was a rock digging into her right shoulder-blade, but it freed her hands.

She ran one of them over the wall at her left, watching the readouts of the back projection. Old co-ordinates confirmed the location Carter had pulled from the database, and she grinned, even as she looked up to the top of the small ravine.

This had been marked a simple score. Of course, that was before the earthquake, when the break hadn’t existed and the box hadn’t been buried. If it had stayed where it had been, it would’ve been picked off long before now, no co-ordinates needed.

“Thank you Mother Nature,” she said, and then unhooked the trowel from her belt. Now all she needed was to get the box out of the ravine wall without losing purchase and forcing the emergency rope into service.

No problem.

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