Chapter 10 — Climbing Through the Storm

The wind blew through the field wooden pole, creating a light whistling sound, different from the familiar hum of steel or concrete poles, a new sound that took Khánh Thi the first few steps to get used to.

"Wooden poles swing more than steel poles, don't panic if you feel it shaking," Thắng spoke from above, his voice loud enough for her to hear clearly over the wind. "It's the nature of the material, not a sign of danger, as long as the shaking amplitude doesn't gradually increase."

"I understand," she replied, her hand clinging a little tighter reflexively even though she already knew the reason.

They reached a height of eighteen meters after nearly ten minutes of slow movement, stopping at a point with a step made of iron bars welded across the column, wide enough for two people to stand side by side while working.

"Hook the auxiliary line, check the lock," Thắng reminded that, although he knew she knew this procedure by heart, repeating it was still a part of safety discipline that he never overlooked, even with himself.

Khánh Thi followed the correct order, the familiar "click" sound rang out, and this time her hands no longer shook like before, although her heart still beat faster than usual.

"Now, your job is to hold and position the ground terminal while I connect the wires," Thắng explained, handing her a heavy metal clip connected to the wire leading to the ground. "Hold it firmly, do not let it touch any metal surface other than the specified point, and report immediately if you feel any unusual vibrations transmitted through the wire."

"Why is it the keeper, not the uncle?" She asked, more curious than suspicious.

"Because I need both hands to connect the main wire, and keeping the ground in place, although simple, is equally important," he replied, already starting work on the upper wire. "In this profession, there are no extra jobs, just different assignments."

That sentence stayed in Khánh Thi's mind throughout her work, a different way of looking at her role that she had never thought of in that direction before. She kept her head firmly grounded, her eyes carefully observing Thắng's every move. Her hands became stiff from having to maintain the same position for a long time, but she did not dare to let her guard down for even a second.

The wind blew steadily, not strong but non-stop, making both people have to lean slightly to keep their balance every time there was a sudden gust. Far away on the ground, Cả Xuyên still stood guard, occasionally calling out to ask about the situation via walkie-talkie.

"What's the situation up there?" he asked.

"Okay, first phase connection underway," Thắng replied, not taking his eyes off his work.

While waiting for Thắng to prepare the tools for the next phase, Khánh Thi took the opportunity to ask a question that had been on her mind for a long time but had never had a chance to ask.

"How long have you been doing this job and you still carefully check each padlock like the first time?" She asked, her voice less tense, enough to talk while still holding her head firmly on the ground.

"Twenty-two years," Thắng replied, without looking up, his hand was still tightening a connector. "But because of those twenty-two years, I'm more careful, not less. I've seen three colleagues have serious accidents in this profession, two because they were subjective in things they had done hundreds of times, one because of faulty equipment and did not check carefully before using."

"Are they okay?"

"One person still goes to work normally, only leaving a long scar on his arm," he said, his voice lowered a bit. "The other two people can no longer do this job. One person lost a leg."

Khánh Thi remained silent, squeezing the grounding head in her hand tighter, those stories made every movement she was doing suddenly have more weight.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't ask about sad things right now," she said.

"No problem," Thắng replied, finally looking up at her for a moment. "You should know those things. Not to be afraid, but to understand why every procedure I taught you has a reason, not just a cumbersome procedure."

He returned to work, and Khánh Thi also focused again, but this time with a deeper understanding of the meaning of each small step that she had previously only followed as a taught habit.

"Do you have a family?" She asked again, a lighter question to break the heavy atmosphere just now.

"Has a wife and a son in college," he replied, his voice much lighter. "And you, baby Bin is probably at home waiting for her mother to come home."

"I guess so." Khánh Thi smiled slightly, although no one could see that smile under the dust and sweat on her face. "I often tell him I work as a wire repairman. He imagines I'm a superhero climbing on the clouds."

"Not much wrong," Thắng replied, a rare hint of humor entering his voice as he tightened a wire connector. "It's just that this superhero has to read safety procedures before saving people."

Fifteen minutes had passed. The two wire phases had been connected, and only the last phase remained. Khánh Thi began to feel her arms grow tired, her forearm muscles trembling slightly because she had held the same position too long, but she said nothing and told herself to try a little harder.

"Are you okay?" Thắng asked, noticing the tension in her posture even though she didn't speak.

"I'm fine," she replied, breathing a little quickly. "My hands are just a little tired."

"Change hands if necessary, but do it slowly and give notice before switching," he said. "Don't try to endure to the point where you can't control it, that's when mistakes are likely to happen."

Khánh Thi followed suit, carefully switching hands to keep her head on the ground, just as instructed, and the feeling of relief as her arm muscles rested made her realize she had learned another lesson about her body's limits, that admitting fatigue was not weakness, but part of safety.

The last phase was connected not long after, Thắng checked all connections one last time by eye and hand, ensuring tightness according to standards before reporting completion via radio.

"Complete connection at the field column, prepare to go down," he said.

"Receive," Cả Xuyên responded from the ground.

Before starting to descend, Thắng stopped for a moment, looking into the distance, where from this height he could see more clearly the panorama of the storm-ravaged area, the temporary green tarpaulin roofs, flooded fields, and the hospital chimney was still there, silent but still standing.

"You look," he said, pointing in that direction. "That's why we do this."

Khánh Thi looked in the direction his hand was pointing, and in that moment, the feeling of fatigue in her hand, the fear of heights still smoldering somewhere in her stomach, all seemed to recede, giving way to another feeling, almost like purpose, something she had never felt so clearly in all her years of working.

They started down, slowly, properly, and when both feet touched the ground, Cả Xuyên patted both of their shoulders, a wide smile on his wrinkled face.

"Three hours left for the hospital," he said, but this time his voice was more optimistic than before. "There are two more columns to reach the low-voltage station. If we keep this speed, we have plenty of time." Thắng nodded, but he did not allow himself to relax completely, because twenty-two years of experience in the profession had taught him that the times when it seemed like everything was going well were the easiest times to be subjective, and the sky on the horizon, although much clearer than the night of the storm, still had a few gray clouds gathering in the distance, a small sign that only those who were used to looking at the sky would notice.

"Is that cloud a return storm?" Khánh Thi asked, realizing that Thắng's eyes stayed there longer than usual.

"It's not that the storm is coming back, storm number 11 has passed and has weakened completely on the northern mainland," he replied, but his voice still maintained a certain caution. "But the circulation after the storm sometimes still leads to strong convection clouds, causing local wind gusts even for a short time. Not as dangerous as the main storm, but still needs monitoring."

"Should I postpone it?"

"No need yet." Thắng shook his head, looked at his watch, then looked back at the clouds again. "It's still far away, moving slowly. If we keep our current work pace, we'll finish the final stretch before it gets close. But I'll be watching more closely from now on."

Cả Xuyên heard the story, looked up at the sky, and smacked his lips.

"God really doesn't give anyone complete rest," he muttered, then turned to collect the remaining pole lowering tools, preparing for the next journey.

"Let's continue," Thắng said, packing up his tools, his eyes glanced at that cloud one last time before returning to work. "It's not done yet."

Khánh Thi put her tool bag back on her shoulder and followed him towards the next pillar, her heart still lingering with a vague feeling of insecurity from the gray clouds on the horizon, but she pushed it aside, focusing on the steps in front of her as Thắng always taught.