AREA 47

SECTION 89:

COURTNEY, Chapter 1

INTRO: I have two novels ready for the publisher just now.  42N8 F8 is a high-concept SF novel, so I think I'll turn that puppy over to the print guys.  But COURTNEY will probably always be my favorite novel.  I've been rewriting it forever and twenty minutes, trying to get it perfect.  Anyway, here's the test: 42N8 F8 goes to the publishers, COURTNEY gets posted to my website.  Come back in 100-years, after I'm dead and gone, or assimilated into some computer somewhere, if you believe Kurzweil.  The novels are starting off even.  Which one kicks the most butt in 2110? 

1993, California

Courtney said, “Let’s make our next fight our last, OK?”

“I’ll be back!” Vlad yelled excitedly.  “One hour at the most.  I’ve just gotta get to the top.  I’ve just gotta!”

Courtney watched him climb with renewed energy up the path to Upper Yosemite Falls.  The switchbacks doubled back and forth; quickly he was out of sight.

She sat down on the big, flat rock beside the peaceful trickle of the side stream.  The day was bright and beautiful.  Up close, everything was healthy green, and warm earth brown, and down across the valley of Yosemite National Park the view was breathtaking.  Giant pine and sequoias, growing out of what looked like sheer rock across the valley.  Far down below, beside the river and the winding road, some oaks and the huge meadows of alpine wildflowers in bloom . . . Well, the season was right for it; summer vacation was on, and the kids were out in force.

Courtney massaged her sore legs through her blue jeans, and tried to sort out her feelings for Vlad.  Three years older than her age of twenty-three and a half, Vlad was a charging, high energy, semi-rich kook.

She watched a pair of hardbodies, two male climbers with backpacks, walk up the sharp incline of the path as if they were on a leisurely stroll.  One smiled to her and offed his hat.  Quickly they were out of sight.

Even the people headed back down, didn’t seem bushed.  The warm sun affected Courtney like a drug, made her feel sluggish, and she slumped dejectedly on the boulder.  She wore a loose, faded yellow cotton shirt, untucked.  New blue jeans, unfashionably unfaded, loose and comfortable; none of that shrink-to-fit nonsense for Courtney.  Her two-foot long, dark brunette hair was straight, slightly tangled as if it needed a good combing; the gentle breeze blew it often forward to conceal her face.  She wore no make-up.  White skin with just a hint of tan.  Kooky horn-rimmed glasses for her nearsighted eyes; the frames dated, but insufficiently out of style to be in.  She was tall, thin, felt herself to be gangly, and she sat in an awkward, unladylike way, legs spread, completely disregarding the fact of her femininity.

It didn’t matter: she was an AWESOME beauty.

Every minute or two, another group of climbers would pass her on their way to the Upper Falls, or back down.

Looking down, she seemed thousands of feet above the floor of the valley.  In fact, she was.

She swiveled around and looked up.  The top was way around the side; way, WAY around the side.  Forget it.  The energy to continue climbing just wasn’t there.

She regularly did aerobics, more than a half hour a day.  And here she was, exhausted.  It must have been the race she and Vlad had run this morning: At least a half mile of flat out running.  She had won, just barely, surprising the hell out of Vlad, in the final few seconds.  But immediately after the run she had been so utterly exhausted, that she could hardly walk, like she had used up all her energy reserves in that mad dash and strong desire to win.

An elderly couple walked up, sat for about ten minutes with her, talking pleasantly, and then resumed their climbing.  Courtney noticed that the woman must have been at least 55 or 60, not even out of breath, enjoying the climb through nature immensely, and waiting for her husband to find his second wind.

Humiliating.

It was then that Byron Reed came into her life.

  COURTNEY, Chapter 2

Copyright 2005 Area 47