The Ascent

by Jeff Long

  'I'll see to it that Mr. Li agrees.'

  Li was glassing the distance with a pair of binoculars, too busy to answer.

  Jorgens went right on laying the groundwork. 'With the Gamow bag on the back

  floor, that will leave room for two. Burns goes, obviously. And it's either Kelly with her

  eyes or Corder or...'

  Abe was standing close enough to hear when Thomas muttered, 'What the hell.' Abe

  glanced at him, but the man was staring off into the north intently.

  Slowly, as if disbelieving his own eyes, Li lowered the binoculars. His smile had

  faded.

  'Pete,' Stump said. Sober looks were suddenly epidemic. Abe wondered what was

  wrong.

  'I'm going out with Gus,' Daniel was insisting. 'We'll make room for Kelly. But I go

  with Gus.' There were no two ways about it.

  'I don't think so,' Stump said.

  'It's okay,' Jorgens said to Stump. 'Corder should go with her.'

  'No,' Stump said.

  Jorgens stopped.

  'We're not going anywhere.'

  Engine whining, the Land Cruiser closed on them. It hit a wet drift with an explosion

  of diamonds and the vehicle slung left, then right. The spray of slush reached for

  them, sparkling in the sun. The yaks spooked and bounded into the snow, but were

  too famished to run very far.

  The Land Cruiser breasted another drift. Thirty feet from the front of the mess

  tent, it braked.

  'Tell those guys to keep the engine running,' Daniel said. 'Let's load Gus on.'

  No one moved. Daniel plucked at Abe's sweater. 'Come on, Abe. Let's move. We can

  make Shekar by dark.'

  The engine cut off. Abe's heart sank.

  'Tell that driver to fire it up. We're taking Gus out of here.'

  Daniel walked between them as between statuary. The climbers were motionless

  and silent.

  He was the only one among them who had not seen this same Land Cruiser before.

  He did not recognize the three soldiers who now emerged.

  'What are you guys waiting for? Stump, give me a hand.'

  The soldier's pea-green uniforms were filthy. They looked ravenous and tired. The

  two younger soldiers seemed very happy to be here again. The officer did not.

  Taking the initiative, Li approached them. He highstepped through the snow. Li and

  the officer stood by the Land Cruiser and conferred for several minutes, casting

  nervous glances at the climbers. Jorgens started to join them, but Li held up his open

  palm to stay in place. After some more words, Li came over to the climbers.

  'Not good,' he said with mechanical bravado. 'Pang La is closed. Earthquake, snow,

  not good.'

  'The hell,' snarled Daniel. 'If they got in, we can get out.'

  Daniel's ignorance confused Li and he goggled at the climber.

  Stump stepped forward. 'They didn't get in, Daniel,' he said.

  'The hell,' Daniel said again and he started to wave at the Land Cruiser. Then it sank

  in. His hand dropped back to his side.

  'Where have these men been for the last week?' Jorgens asked.

  'Rongbuk Monastery,' Li said.

  It was simple to see. The soldiers had set off with their prisoner. Then the

  earthquake had trapped them on this side of the pass. They had started back toward

  Base Camp, only to be caught by deep snows. Without food or sleeping bags, probably

  without fire even, they had taken refuge in the ruined monastery for the last seven

  days. Now they had completed their fateful circle.

  'These men require food,' Li said. 'They require shelter. They require medical

  attention. They require...'

  Daniel cut him off. 'Where's the kid at?' he demanded.

  'What you say?' Li was outraged, though Abe perceived more bluff than anger. The

  man had to be just as disappointed as they were at being trapped, but with one

  significant difference: He was now trapped with them, and they were the enemy.

  'What did they do with the boy?'

  'I forbid...'

  Daniel's black eyes dismissed the L.O. and without another word he bulled past him

  toward the Land Cruiser.

  'You,' Li shouted. 'You stay away.'

  Daniel didn't highstep through the snow, he simply slugged his shins through it and

  tore a path. The officer saw Daniel coming and he ordered the two younger soldiers to

  intercept him. But the week without food and warmth had depleted them. Daniel

  pushed between them.

  The officer barked a high reedy command in Chinese. When Daniel kept coming, he

  unsnapped a leather holster cover at his hip. Abe watched the man perform his

  motions, and they seemed perfectly natural. Of course he would draw his gun. It was

  as inevitable as Daniel's advance.

  With ritual determination, the officer pulled his automatic pistol and gestured Daniel

  away. That didn't work, of course. There was too much forward momentum. But

  when the officer extended his arm its full length and aimed the pistol at Daniel's face,

  things stopped, or at least paused. Daniel had came to a halt.

  Abe wanted to shout. This was a mistake. They were climbers and their climb was

  over. They had finished with this place. It had finished with them. There was nothing

  more to do here. This was unfair. They had tried to free Daniel. Now was his turn to

  free them. He should let them go home.

  All the climbers could see of Daniel's head was the greasy mane that hung to his

  shoulder blades, black against his once white sweater. Over his shoulder, the officer's

  face was in full view, cold eyes in partial eclipse.

  For a full minute, the two men remained frozen and contemplative. Their impasse

  was physically painful. Abe ached from it. The heat and whiteness lodged them in

  their footsteps, all of them. The silence was immovable, larger than a mountain.

  And then something happened. Bored by the human drama, one of the yaks moved

  its head away. The small bell around its neck rang. A single note shivered through the

  air. It was enough.

  The silence broke. Daniel moved, skirting around the officer. The black pistol stayed

  upraised, pointing at the climbers for a moment, then drifting downward. The officer

  looked straight through them, and by that Abe knew he had come very close to pulling

  the trigger.

  Daniel circled to the back of the Land Cruiser. He pressed the door handle and

  pulled. Everyone was watching as the Tibetan boy slowly spilled out upon the snow.

  Even the soldiers seemed surprised by the power of their prisoner's appearance.

  The boy was tied – with expedition rope – hand and foot. He was unconscious and

  dirty in yak skins, exactly as Abe had first encountered him. He lay in a heap, jaw

  slack upon the melting tire tracks.

  Daniel bent to him. 'He's alive,' he said to them all.

  'Ah, Jesus,' Stump muttered, and it was not a hallelujah Jesus. Abe felt the same

  way. So did the others, he heard them.

  'Why didn't the bastards just finish him?' someone said.

  All the simplicity they had earned, all their separation from the world outside, was

  ruined by this boy's reappearance. They were haunted, not by his death, but by his

  life. It was a mean sentiment, Abe knew, but an honest one. No one, from the climbers

  to Li to the weary soldiers, wanted to deal with this anymore. The monk would not let

  go, though.

&n
bsp; Abe started through the snow, following Daniel's track. He was the doctor and there

  was suffering and misery lying piled before him. They all had their roles to play, and

  this was his.

  'Stop,' Li commanded. 'This Tibetan minority is a criminal of the state. This matter

  is our internal affair. You have no right.' His words sounded rote, straight from a

  government primer.

  Abe pressed forward. Li spoke something in Chinese to the officer, who instructed

  his two subordinates to step into Abe's path.

  'Mr. Jones and Mr. Corder,' Jorgens interjected. 'Our liaison officer has stated a

  position. And I remind you, we are guests in this country.'

  'So are they,' Carlos said. 'These Chinese don't belong here any more than we do.'

  His words were bold, but he didn't move to join Abe and Daniel.

  'Screw your politics,' Thomas retorted. He'd had his fill of this country. 'I came to

  climb. Period.'

  They were all performing their designated parts, no more or less. Abe could not do

  any differently than he next did. Like Daniel, he went around the soldiers.

  'Repeat,' Li declared. 'Stop. Now.'

  Abe knelt beside Daniel in the snow. He put his head close to the boy's mouth. The

  respiration was delicate and fast. Even before taking the pulse, Abe knew it would be

  rapid and thready. The boy's hands were bare and blistered with frostbite. His feet

  would be black. His condition had been terminal enough without getting trussed and

  frozen and starved for a week. They had just saved his executioner the price of a

  bullet.

  'Untie these ropes,' Abe said.

  Daniel worked at the ankle knots, Abe at the wrists.

  'You,' shouted Li. 'This criminal is property of the People's Republic of China.'

  Abe held up a handful of loose rope. 'This is not your property. This belongs to us.'

  He was talking about more than the rope. This child's captivity belonged to them, too.

  Even without the betrayal, they had acted as if silence were enough.

  'Let's take him to the mess,' Abe said.

  'You, stop,' Li shouted. He issued a string of words to the officer. Abe and Daniel

  went ahead.

  When they lifted him, the boy weighed less on Abe's end than some of the pack loads

  he'd carried on the mountain. They had taken scarcely one step when the gunshot

  barked. The body twitched in Abe's hands. It may have been Abe twitching, he wasn't

  sure.

  A cry of anguish wailed out.

  Terrified, Abe spun his head toward the officer. A thin signature of smoke bled from

  his gun barrel. But the gun was pointing away. It had been more than a warning shot,

  however.

  Ten feet away, the yak that had carried Kelly down from ABC lay crumpled in the

  snow. A geyser of blood pumped into the air from its head. The old herder was

  struggling through the snow to his animal.

  Now the officer pointed his gun at the boy dangling from Abe and Daniel's hands.

  This time, Abe thought, it was checkmate. They couldn't push it any farther. There

  came a point when you had to turn away from the summit and admit defeat.

  'Damn it,' Abe whispered.

  'It's not done,' Daniel said to him across the limp body.

  'It is, Daniel. They'll kill him.'

  'They'll kill him anyway.'

  'Daniel, it's done,' said Abe. 'It is.'

  'We can't leave him,' Daniel protested.

  'We must,' he said. And with that a faraway darkness sealed itself off.

  'Please,' Daniel said.

  But before they could lay the boy on the ground or return him to the Land Cruiser,

  the standoff ended. A slight snap sounded from among the climbers, an ounce of noise.

  All eyes shifted from the officer and his black gun aimed point-blank at the body

  between Abe and Daniel. They saw Kelly. She was holding a camera.

  The Chinese didn't know she was blind. Abe didn't know if there was even any film

  in the camera. But she had it pointed in the right direction. She triggered the shutter

  again. With a single finger she stopped the violence.

  Carlos was next. He groped for the camera dangling around his neck and took a

  picture, then three, then twenty on autodrive. Robby aimed his own camera.

  The officer's face darkened. Li winced. Even if they confiscated every camera and

  strip-searched every climber, there were still witnesses.

  Abe made the most of their pause. He spoke directly to Li.

  'I'm a doctor,' he said. 'I must treat him. It's my responsibility. It's my duty.' He left

  the boy's future unspoken. There was no future. He could feel the soul ready to spring

  free of this poor body.

  Li considered this opening. 'Yes,' he finally declared. 'You must treat the prisoner. It

  is your responsibility. Your duty. You are our doctor.'

  They laid the boy in a sleeping bag beside Gus's red and yellow chamber. He

  balanced the benefits of rotating his patients in the Gamow bag. But Gus seemed to be

  stabilized inside the pressurized atmosphere, and the monk was unlikely to recover

  anyway.

  The Chinese soldiers set up camp in the stone Tomb a hundred yards from the rest

  of the tent city. Li had several of the Sherpas move his tent up onto the hillside beside

  the hut. Both camps dug in. It suddenly seemed likely they would be trapped here

  until the end of the monsoon in late August or September. Stump and Thomas

  butchered the dead yak and hung the meat in a tent. Some of the others took an

  inventory of their remaining supplies. There was enough food to last until August.

  Kerosene for the stoves would run out by July.

  A day passed with little change. A distinct boundary sprang up between the

  Western and Chinese camps. Only Krishna crossed it, to deliver hot meals up the little

  hill to the soldiers and liaison officer.

  That night Abe was lying curled and shivering on the frozen earth, breathing his

  own hot animal breath inside his sleeping bag. He couldn't sleep without drugging

  himself, and that wasn't an option, not with two unconscious patients bracketing him

  like bookends.

  'Abe,' he heard. Abe flipped on his headlamp and Daniel's gaunt face hung in the

  glare. It gave him a start. Godforsaken: The word assembled in his mind. Some of the

  others had been remarking on Daniel's crash ever since the descent. The amputation

  seemed to have broken him altogether. They said he slept in some rocks by day. At

  night you could hear him stalking through the camp, plodding through the snow,

  ceaseless.

  'Aren't you cold, Daniel?'

  Frost was guttering from Daniel's filthy beard and he was trembling. But he denied

  the cold.

  'Will she be okay?' Daniel asked.

  'Her pulse is stronger. The wound seems clean. I've got her jacked full of every

  antibiotic we have. We nailed the gangrene cold. There's no reason she can't recover,

  Daniel.' He paused. 'Now there's an extra bag in the corner. Why don't you bring it

  over and get warm and sleep. You can sleep beside her.'

  'What about him?' Daniel was staring at the Tibetan boy.

  'I don't know.'

  Daniel knelt beside the still body and pulled the corners of the sleeping bag back to

  see the boy's face. 'He deserves better than this,' Daniel said. 'He deserved better

  from us.'

  Certainly the boy had deserved b
etter from them. In a sense they had been the final

  guardians of his passage from Tibet, and they had failed him. Abe no longer blamed

  Gus alone. The others did. Daniel had told Kelly about what she had done. At his

  request, Kelly had told the others. He wanted them to know why she'd done it. He

  wanted them to blame him, not her. But even blaming her was beside the point.

  For the boy had been in danger since the moment he appeared in their camp. He

  had come to them bleeding and in rags, and they had done nothing but give him a

  clean expedition T-shirt and a baseball cap and stick Band-Aids on his torture

  wounds. That and their silence was supposed to have screened this frail, lone, child

  from the Chinese wind. What had they been thinking?

  'You're right,' Abe said. 'He deserved better. But the truth is, I just don't think it's

  going to get any better for him.'

  'I've been thinking,' Daniel said.

  'You should rest,' Abe said, trying to head him off.

  'We owe him,' Daniel declared. 'We do. And there's nothing more I can do to help

  Gus. You'll watch over her. I know you will.'

  Abe listened to the tent poles creaking under the weight of the wind.

  'He can't stay here,' Daniel said. 'They'll kill him.'

  'Forget it,' Abe said.

  'Three days, maybe five,' Daniel continued. 'From here it's a day to the Chengri La. I

  know the way. We can meet you guys in Kathmandu.'

  'No,' Abe said.

  'No one gets hurt. And we save the day.'

  'I'm needed here.'

  'You're not invited.' Daniel smiled. His teeth glittered white in the crack within his

  beard. 'It's my deal.'

  'They would punish us,' Abe said. 'Gus would suffer.'

  'No.' Daniel didn't really have to deny it. Abe didn't believe the Chinese would punish

  an injured Westerner, either. The only punishment would be immediate expulsion,

  and at this juncture that was no punishment at all.

  'Do what you want,' Abe said. 'But do it without him. It's not his deal either.' It was

  obvious what Daniel was after, but transcendence was no longer an option, if it ever

  had been. He placed one hand upon the Tibetan boy's chest. He could feel the

  respiration, the terrible struggle in these bones.

  'They'll kill him,' Daniel repeated.

  'And so would you. He's had enough pain for one lifetime.'

  And so have you, Abe thought, watching Daniel's face.

  Then Daniel did something remarkable. He winked. It wasn't conspiratorial. It