by Roland Smith
“I’ll take my chances.” I picked up my pack.
“I would like to go too,” Alessia said.
Mom shook her head. “We’ve got this. No sense in everyone going.” She looked at Phillip. “What I don’t understand is how Plank would provide all of this wonderful equipment and not think to supply us with two-way radios as a backup to cell and sat phones.”
Phillip looked uncomfortable. It was the first time his confident demeanor had wavered even a little bit. “Well . . . uh . . . actually, there are two-ways. It’s such antiquated tech, I didn’t even think to use them. I’m sure they don’t have much range. In fact, I’m not sure they’re charged. To be honest, I don’t even know how to use them.”
If Phillip had thought to break them out, no one would have had to stumble out into the dark to find the film crew.
Mom didn’t give him a bad time about this, because she’s cool. “Let’s get them out and see if they work. The last time I climbed, two-ways were the only tech there was. If they’re charged, I should be able to get them to work.”
Getting two-ways to work is as simple as turning them on and switching the units to the same channel. But she didn’t mention this to him either. Cool Mom.
Phillip went back to his tent, and after another muffled exchange with Cindy, he and she came back out with a high-impact plastic case. Inside were several pristine, very compact, two-way radios held in place by Styrofoam. Mom pulled them out and screwed on the antennas.
“These are nicer than any two-way I’ve ever used.” She fired them up and looked at the displays. “They’re all fully charged. They might have a better range than we think.” She punched in the same frequency on all the units, then keyed the mikes. “They seem to be working.”
Cindy wandered over to the fire. “Are those sat phones?”
“Sorry,” Mom said, handing a radio to Phillip. “Two-ways. You’re still disconnected.”
I smiled. A double entendre. Mom is famous for them. First one she had pulled in Afghanistan. I think. They’re subtle. Especially when they’re directed at you. No one else seemed to have caught it.
MY CALVES AND ANKLES were killing me.
There is no way to strengthen the weird little muscles you use when you’re walking on scree. It’s kind of like walking on fist-size marbles. Zopa’s headlamp was a hundred feet in front of Mom and me, following a trail that only he seemed able to see.
“You think Zopa knows where he’s going?” Mom asked.
“Zopa knows where you’re going before you know. So, yeah, he knows. How are your legs?”
“They are on fire. How about yours?”
“Charcoal.”
“Glad to hear it. I thought it was only me.”
I suspected her legs hurt worse than mine. When I was three months old, she shattered her hip and broke her back in a climbing accident, which ended her climbing career.
“Zopa doesn’t seem to be bothered,” she said.
“That’s because nothing ever bothers Zopa.”
“How old is he, anyway?”
“Best guess? Six hundred and thirteen, give or take a century.”
The two-way chirped. Mom unclipped it. “Go ahead.”
“Phillip here. Checking in. Any sign of them? Over.”
Apparently Phillip had figured out how to use a two-way radio. Probably remembered it from a movie he’d seen, or maybe even directed.
“No sign of them yet, but we’ve only been gone half an hour.”
“Roger that. My concern is that the old man has misread the drone photos. I doubt he’s seen many of them in his life.”
Apparently Phillip didn’t understand that when you talked on a two-way, everybody could hear you, including the person you were insulting, if he happened to be standing in hearing range. The other thing he didn’t understand was that Zopa doesn’t need a map to know where he is and where he’s going. He has a built-in GPS. He’s a Global Positioning Monk.
“What a moron,” I said under my breath.
“I didn’t copy that. Can you repeat? Over.”
I was about ready to repeat that, but Mom shook her head.
“We’ll keep searching. If they wander into camp, let us know.”
“Roger that. Out.”
“I think we’ve had enough of Phillip for one night.” She switched the two-way off and stowed it.
I was a little shocked at how calm she was over this whole mess. “I’m a little worried about Phillip,” I said.
“I’ve seen worse. The person you’re going to have to keep your eye on is Rafe.”
“He’s just a jerk. No big deal.”
“He’s more than that. He’s a one in twenty.”
“Huh?”
“Back in the day, that’s what your dad and I called them. About one in twenty climbers are twisted. Things haven’t changed. You’ll need to stay clear of him. You handled his Everest lie perfectly. If you become a threat to him, he’ll hurt you. He’s a terrible climber. On the top of the cliff, I had to reset his harness. He claimed that Down Under they rigged them differently. Aki, Choma, and Alessia know what they are about, although the two boys are not in the best of shape. Rafe is a completely different story. He has eyes for Alessia, and Alessia obviously has eyes for you.”
“I seriously doubt that,” I said.
“And I’m serious about you watching your step around Rafe. He’s not wrapped tight. He’s singled you out as his main competition. Not only for Alessia, but for the climb.”
“This isn’t a competition.”
Mom laughed, and I immediately regretted saying that, because of course it was a competition. When two or more people are climbing together, it’s always a competition even if the people are friends, which is why I prefer to climb alone. And even then it’s a competition between me and whatever I’m climbing.
“You know what I mean.”
“I do,” she said. “So, what do you think of Alessia?”
Leading question, and I wasn’t going to climb that route. Especially with my mom. I shrugged, then picked up my pace to catch up with Zopa, despite my sore calves and ankles. Zopa said nothing when I joined him. He was walking quickly across the loose rock, his headlamp down. After a hundred yards or so, he pointed at the ground.
“There.”
The rocky ground looked exactly like the mile of rocky ground we’d just covered.
“You don’t see.”
I stared at the ground harder. I saw rocks.
He toed a rock with his boot. “This one. And this one. Both turned over earlier today by someone. You are good at seeing things. Patterns. Things that are not supposed to be there, like the ghost cat earlier. You will need to pay attention on this climb. Closer attention than usual.” He shined his light ahead along the scree and pointed. “Tell me where the trail is.”
It took me a while to see it, but eventually I saw a clear trail where the rocks had been disturbed. “I see it!”
“Good.” Zopa started walking again. “It is easier to see at night with a headlamp because of the shadows the light casts on the rocks.”
“It has to be the film crew,” I said. “We didn’t come this way today, and we’re the only people here.”
Zopa looked off into the darkness in front of us. “I am not sure of that.”
“What do you mean?”
“You don’t feel it?”
All I was feeling was my sore legs. “I guess not.”
“Someone is coming our way.”
“Who? There aren’t any villages within a hundred miles of this place. There are no roads, unless you count the goat path along the river as a road. There’s no reason for anyone to be out here.”
“Perhaps they are coming because we are here.”
“Why?”
“Good question,” Zopa said. “And I could be wrong. But I still have the feeling that this climb is going to go bad.”
“Phillip? Cindy? Rafe?”
Zopa shook his head. “I
have led stranger groups.”
I laughed. “You’re forgetting that Phillip is in charge of the climb.”
Zopa smiled. “That is correct. I had forgotten he was the leader.”
We walked another three hundred yards with me glancing back at Mom to make sure she was keeping pace with us.
“There.”
“I see the trail,” I said.
“Not the rocks.” He was not pointing at the ground. He was pointing at a pinpoint of light in the distance. I squinted my eyes. There were two lights. Then three. Then two again, slowly moving toward us.
“The film crew?”
“I presume.”
It took us a half an hour to reach them. They looked like they had fallen off a cliff. Jack and Will were covered with bloody lacerations and bruises. They were carrying Ethan on a crude litter made out of sticks and climbing rope. Ethan actually looked better than they did, except for his swollen right ankle, which was either broken or badly sprained.
“I told you we were headed in the right direction,” JR said hoarsely through swollen lips. “Got any water?”
He gulped down an entire bottle, then told us what happened. They had fallen off a cliff. After several false starts, they finally found the climb Phillip wanted them to scout.
“Huge cliff face.”
“A thousand feet.”
“More like fifteen hundred.”
“Whatever. You can’t miss it.”
“If you’re in the right area, which we weren’t for hours, because Phillip can’t read a topo map or interpret drone photos.”
“The cliff is riddled with caves.”
“Looks like a nesting site for giant swallows.”
“More like a dragon rookery.”
This one was from Ethan strapped in the litter. He must have been a fantasy fan.
“Anyway, it’s a nice place to shoot. Dramatic. I have to give Phillip props for that, even though he didn’t know where the cliff was.”
“So we get there about an hour before dark. At that point, we should have just turned around, but Ethan said we should do a short recon climb. Figure out some of the camera angles. Test the rock.”
“Hey! I just made a suggestion. And not one of you objected.”
“Whatever. Anyway, we start climbing with fearless leader here setting ropes, and we get maybe fifty feet up when an anchor pops loose.”
“Rotten rock. And these guys are thirty pounds heavier than they should be. Lard climbers. Not my fault.”
“So we fall off the cliff.”
“We didn’t fall. We slid. If we had fallen, there would have been four busted corpses at the base of the cliff.”
“It was like sliding down the side of a cheese grater.”
“Probably took off some of the extra pounds you guys are carrying. Which is a good thing.”
“The only thing that’s shedding pounds is hauling your worthless corpse across this scree in the dark. By the time we get back to camp, you’ll be walking better than us.”
All of this ribbing was good-natured. Surviving a fall always cheers you up, regardless of the pain you’re in. Mom shined her headlamp on Ethan’s black and blue and yellow ankle.
“It’s not broken,” Ethan said. “Didn’t hear any bones crunching inside. I’ll soak it in the river and keep it elevated when we get back to camp. It will be as good as new in a couple of days. My biggest problem is getting dumped on the ground three times now. The next time might be the end of me.”
“You’re lucky we didn’t leave you at the bottom of the cliff for the dragons to devour.”
I took a closer look at the litter, surprised that they had gotten this far with it. Zopa shrugged out of his pack and gave it to me.
“I am a Sherpa,” Zopa said. “I will carry you.”
“Zopa?” JR asked in shock. Apparently he hadn’t recognized him in the dark.
“You’re the climb master?” Jack asked.
“Zopa from Everest?” Ethan asked.
“Wow, didn’t expect to see you here,” Will said.
“You can’t carry me,” Ethan said.
But Zopa did carry him, ignoring everyone’s protests, over the treacherous scree, in a fireman’s carry across his shoulders, all the way back to camp, without one slip or any rest.
It was close to midnight by the time we got back to camp. Alessia and Phillip were the only ones awake. Zopa set Ethan down next to the fire.
Alessia was concerned and relieved. “Thank God you are back. We were so worried.”
Phillip didn’t look concerned or relieved. He looked mad. “Is the camera equipment okay?”
“It’s all fine,” JR answered, slumping down next to Ethan.
“Then why didn’t you run ahead and film Zopa carrying Ethan into camp?”
JR looked at him through dull, exhausted eyes. We all looked at Phillip through dull, exhausted eyes. I couldn’t remember being that tired, and I didn’t carry Ethan on my back or on a litter, and I hadn’t fallen off a cliff.
“Run ahead?” JR asked.
“Are you dense? Zopa just came into camp carrying an injured climber around his neck. A dramatic moment, and you didn’t film it.”
“Oh.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Phillip said, doing a complete three-sixty attitude change, by giving him a smile. “But we can’t miss moments like that.”
“Yeah, sorry. Did Plank supply us with a big first aid kit?”
“In my tent, but Cindy is sleeping . . . finally. I hate to wake her.”
I was speechless. So was everyone else.
Phillip looked at Zopa. “I know it’s late and that you’re tired, but could you pick Ethan up? All you have to do is haul him into the darkness, then walk back in with him. Same path, just like you did before. But this time we’ll have the cameras set up. One next to the fire, one handheld as you’re bringing him in. Don’t look at the camera or talk. Just act as if the camera isn’t there. Easy.”
Zopa picked up his pack. “It will be easy, because I will not be there. I am going to my tent.”
Phillip’s smile vanished. He raised his voice. “We can’t do this in the morning! We have to shoot now in the dark when everyone’s tired. It won’t play when you’re rested and the wounds are dressed.”
Zopa walked to his tent without a word.
“Okay,” Phillip said. “I guess one of you will have to carry—”
“Forget it, Phillip,” Mom said. “You’re not getting your shot. It’s over. And you’re not supposed to be filming the film crew. You’re supposed to be filming the kids.”
Phillip stared at her, red-faced, as if his head was about to explode. “You’re not in charge here. I’m in charge. And I know very well what I’m supposed to do. And Pete just missed the preliminary interviews. They were pretty good. I just reviewed the video I shot.” He glanced at Alessia. “We have a couple of real stars. Naturals. I’m pretty sure some of what I shot will make it into the final cut. Unfortunately, Pete isn’t on video.”
“If you had a camera, why didn’t you film us coming back to camp?” Mom asked.
Phillip’s face turned redder, if that was possible. “I tried to reach you on the two-way. If you had answered, perhaps I could have filmed you coming back to camp. Why didn’t you respond?”
“Must have been out of range,” Mom lied. “I’m going to get the first aid kit.”
“I told you that Cindy was asleep.”
“I’ll be quiet. Oh, and my son’s name is not Pete, it’s Peak. P-E-A-K.”
“What kind of name is that?”
Mom grinned. “His name.”
Peace
I open my eyes and see bright red. It’s warm. I look at my watch. 10:32 a.m. Late. My legs hurt from the scree. My shoulders hurt from hauling packs. A girl is laughing. It could be Alessia. I’ve never heard her laugh. I’m hungry. I crawl out into the sunlight. It’s cooler outside my tent. A breeze is coming up from the river . . .
MOM W
AS STANDING next to the fire, talking quietly with Ebadullah and Elham. Apparently they spoke English as well as Pashtun. I heard the laughter again. It was coming from the river. Cindy, but a very different Cindy. She was wearing a red tank top and shorts. She was sitting on a flat rock, dangling her feet in the water, and looking like she was enjoying herself. Sitting next to her, also soaking his feet, was Ethan. Uh-oh. No one else was awake.
I joined Mom at the fire. Elham and Ebadullah were not speaking English or Pashtun. They were speaking French. So was Mom. Fluently as far as I could tell.
“You speak French?”
“Obviously.”
“You never told me.”
“There are a lot of things I never told you.”
Elham handed me a mug of strong, hot tea.
“Do you speak any other languages?”
“A couple,” Mom answered.
My next question should have been, which ones? But I didn’t go there. I was impressed that she had held this back. I thought I knew everything about Mom. I was glad I didn’t.
“Cindy seems to be in a better mood today.”
“Ethan is working his charm, which is not going to make this camp any happier. This could get ugly.”
“You mean uglier?”
“Exactly.”
“Have Ebadullah and Elham told you what they’re doing out here?”
“French embassy. Bodyguards to Mademoiselle Alessia Charbonneau, daughter to the ambassador. In fact, I just spoke to the ambassador.”
“The sat phones work?”
“They worked for a few minutes. Long enough for Ebadullah and Elham to check in and for me to tell the ambassador that her daughter is doing fine. Then it went out again, which is not unusual in this area, according to Elham and Ebadullah.”
I looked toward the river. “And Cindy missed the window?”
“Afraid so. I was about to tell her we were back in business when the signal failed. We were just saying that it would probably be best to keep our brief sat blip between us. Otherwise Cindy will spend the entire day fiddling with the phone and draining Phillip’s battery further than it already is.”
“Speaking of Phillip.” I pointed.