He grabs the upper rope and takes a tentative step forward letting the lower rope dip with our weight before he starts stepping one foot in front of the other. As soon as we reach the first upright pole and he has to let go, I hear a click echo around us. I look below and see each of the trainers aiming what looks like guns at us. What the hell?
“Wyatt, we’ve got trouble. I think they are going to try and shoot at us, move your ass!”
“Where are they?”
“One at twelve o’clock, two at three o’clock, one at six o’clock and three at nine o’clock, but I don’t know if they would aim at us or the other team. Would they really shoot us?”
“It’s probably just paintballs, but they turn the guns up to full velocity. Yes they will really try and hit us, and those f*ckers hurt.”
He picks up the pace, but we can only go so fast without making the whole bridge start to sway. I relate the info to the pair behind us and then to the pair in front of us. Everyone on piggy back is on the lookout to see who is going to strike first.
The pair in front of us makes it to the platform just as they start to open fire. We are just crossing the halfway point and still have about twenty feet to go. I feel the first splat of paint hit my arm and Wyatt wasn’t wrong, this sh*t stings. I take a few more to each arm and then I hear the consistent splats and can feel the paint splash over Wyatt’s shoulder at me.
“Ahh! I can’t see!” Wyatt shouts.
They tried and failed to get me to let go so they started going for Wyatt’s face.
“Hold on tigh for just a second, I’m going to adjust.” I let go with one hand and reach under his arm.
“What the f*ck are you doing? Don’t let go, you’re going to fall!”
“We are both going to fall if you can’t see or if the rope gets too slippery to move, just trust me.” I shimmy under his arm, moving my legs as little as possible, but reaching both arms underneath and grabbing his biceps and using them to pull myself to his front. I take the hem of my shirt and wipe his face. “Blink. Can you see better?” I ask as I start to take a volley of hits to my back.
He does what I say. “Yeah, I’m good, but you are getting pummeled, move back.”
“Not a chance, focus on the rope and I will keep them from hitting you in the face, now get us off this ride.”
“You got it boss.”
I take a look behind him and the last pair did the same. She is protecting his face too, but she looks like a Jackson Pollock painting. I’m sure I look no better.
