The Ascent

by Jeff Long

  wasn't defiant. He just winked. Then he stood up in stages, carefully, slowly, his knee

  joints cracking.

  'Try to get some sleep, Abe,' he counseled. 'You look like shit.'

  Abe said, 'I didn't want it this way, you know.'

  'Want?' Daniel said, backing towards the door. The tent flap dropped shut behind

  him.

  The sun cooked camp through another day, rendering the snow in camp to a mere ten

  inches or so. Gus developed a fever. It alarmed Abe. His medical ignorance left him

  virtually helpless before her. A fever was like an avalanche, something to be waited

  out. He waited. The fever abated.

  Over dinner, the group discussed sending a small party of climbers on foot over the

  Pang La. If they could climb a vertical wall to five and a half miles high, surely they

  could surmount a road pass. They could try to arrange for a helicopter to pick up Gus.

  At the very least there would be four fewer mouths to feed.

  Wasting no time, Stump and Carlos and J.J. and Thomas set off first thing next

  morning. Those staying behind said good-bye and wished them well. Breakfast was a

  glum affair.

  'I wonder if we'll ever see them again,' Robby said. They got their answer sooner

  than later. Shortly before sunset, J.J. was back, alone and out of breath.

  'The trucks are coming,' he joyfully trumpeted. 'We saw them through the

  binoculars, five big trucks. They'll get here in the morning.'

  That was good news for everyone but the Tibetan boy. It meant the pass was open.

  They were saved from a summer beneath Everest. They could all get on with their

  lives. They could get on with their forgetting.

  The Tibetan boy's breathing grew labored at midnight. Despite a continuous flow of

  oxygen and a drip feed of glucose, he died at two. It was a soft passage. Abe was

  catnapping. He was dreaming of horses. When he searched for a pulse, the boy's

  carotid was silent. Abe listened through his stethoscope, but the heart was still. Abe's

  light and motion woke Daniel, who had chosen at last to sleep beside Gus's plastic

  chamber. 'The boy's gone,' Abe told him.

  'All he wanted was to get over the mountain,' Daniel said.

  'We did what we could do.'

  'You know that's not so,' Daniel said.

  'It's done now.'

  'I keep thinking, what if we'd just got him over the mountain?'

  'Daniel, it was too late.'

  'I mean before it got too late. I mean instead of working the summit. We could have

  got this one poor bastard out of hell. We could have, you know.'

  Abe covered the boy's face. 'He got close. As close as we did.'

  With Daniel's help, Abe carried the boy outside. The stars were glittering, no clouds.

  The North Face of Everest was milky with the quarter moon's light. They set the

  body in a small, tattered equipment tent, and gave it a moment's vigil.

  'We can bury him in the morning,' Abe said.

  'There won't be any burial,' Daniel said.

  'But we can't just leave him.'

  'He won't be left, don't worry. He's a reactionary and traitor, remember? The

  Chinese still have uses for him. They still need to complete their records. They'll

  photograph him. Then they'll sell him back to his family, if he has one.'

  'No,' Abe said. 'We'll bury him.'

  The world rushed in at dawn. Abe opened his eyes to the distant sound of engines. It

  was six o'clock. Daniel was already gone. Abe paused to check on Gus before charging

  outside to confirm their rescue.

  At the north throat of the valley, five military trucks were crawling out onto the

  floor. Slowly they lurched across the ice and frozen mud. The climbers crawled from

  their tents. They waved and shouted hysterically like castaways upon a sinking raft.

  Li's soldiers were more dignified, emerging from the Tomb to button their uniform

  jackets and arrange themselves.

  'Let's system it, people,' Jorgens yelled to the climbers. 'I guarantee they will want

  to load and leave inside the hour. Let's see some system.'

  The climbers and Sherpas began rushing around the camp, packing the few items

  worth salvaging. Abe took the opportunity to root through the folds of his collapsed

  hospital to see what was left. That was where Li found him.

  'Now I will take custody of the prisoner.' The sun had not yet reached into the

  valley, and Li's words appeared as blue smoke.

  Abe let go of the torn tentage. He'd meant to avenge the boy by condemning Li and

  his government's abuses, or perhaps demanding some paperwork, before revealing

  the death. Instead, Abe just told him.

  'He died,' Abe said.

  'What? What you say?'

  'Last night.'

  'Impossible,' Li said. 'I give him to you. Now you give him to me.'

  'He died,' Abe repeated very softly.

  'No.' Li's voice rose. 'He is alive when you take him from official custody. He is alive.'

  It occurred to Abe that Li needed a prisoner to justify himself. He had disobeyed

  orders from martial authorities to close down the climb. Toward apprehending an

  escapee, he had, on his own, permitted the expedition to continue. He had then given

  a group of Westerners custody of the prisoner. Without a living, breathing fugitive to

  show for his insubordination, there was no telling what the personal consequences

  might be. Abe felt sorry for him.

  'We should bury him here,' Abe said.

  'Impossible.' Daniel had been right. There would be no burial after all. In the

  distance, the officer was watching Li's upset. 'You show me. Now.'

  Abe led him to the little equipment tent behind the mess tent. They passed people

  furiously jamming gear into packs and burlap bags.

  The first truck was almost upon them. Abe could hear its big tires crackling over the

  icy tundra. Standing in the bed of the truck, Carlos and Thomas and Stump were

  hooting and punching their fists into the sky.

  Abe unzipped the door to the equipment tent. At least the boy had died in the

  middle of the night. He would not have gotten his moment of silence otherwise, not

  from the celebrants swarming through the camp. He was already forgotten.

  That was when he found the body was gone.

  The cherry red sleeping bag that Abe had zipped closed around his head was empty.

  'He was there,' Abe pointed.

  Li's eyes were furious. 'You make him escape,' he said, and bolted from the tent.

  It took another hour for them to determine that Daniel was missing from camp. Not

  without good reason, the Chinese refused to believe Abe's story. The climbers didn't

  buy it either. It made no sense that Daniel would lead a corpse to freedom.

  Ten o'clock came, with no resolution.

  Abe's concern was for Gus. She needed medical attention as quickly as possible, but

  the Chinese showed no hurry to depart. Already half the morning was gone. They

  could have been partway up the Pang La by now, that much closer to Kathmandu and

  home.

  Jorgens and Thomas were almost as outraged as the Chinese by the escape attempt.

  They had suffered Daniel's conduct for months on end, and this latest stunt was going

  to cost them. Li threatened to haul them all off to Lhasa for an inquiry. He had

  declared that Jorgens's permit for another attempt at the Kore Wall next year was

  already a dead issue. />
  'Screw Corder,' Thomas growled. 'He ditched us.'

  'The man deserted,' Jorgens agreed. 'You don't save deserters. You arrest them. Or

  shoot them.'

  'We have to find him,' Abe argued. 'He'll die out there.'

  'He laid a death sentence on himself a long time ago,' Thomas said. 'And now he's

  taken that kid down with him.'

  'The boy died last night,' Abe said. He'd already told them. Only Kelly believed it,

  though.

  'He's made it over the passes before,' Stump said, but that was just to counter the

  harshness.

  Even the climbers who at first cheered Daniel's bid to free the boy grew disgruntled.

  Earthquakes and slides had closed the Pang La once, they could close it again. Daniel

  had gambled with their well-being.

  At noon Li summoned Abe to the Tomb. The stone hut was circled by trucks and

  look formidable. Li was sitting inside the hut with the officer plus several men who

  had arrived with the convoy. Five of the six wore military uniforms.

  Abe knew what they would want.

  'Mr. Corder is taking the prisoner to cross our international border.' Li was almost

  too angry to speak. 'We have found footprints. You must lead our soldiers to find him.'

  'I have a very sick patient,' Abe said. 'She needs to go to a hospital.'

  'The Chinese government is humanitarian,' Li reminded Abe.

  'Then send Gus out.'

  'This is a serious matter,' Li said. 'Internal affairs of the Chinese people, you see.'

  'Help Gus,' Abe said. 'And I will help you.'

  Li reversed the proposal. 'Help us,' he said. 'Then we will help you.'

  Abe said, 'All right.' To save Gus, he had to risk sacrificing Daniel. That seemed to be

  how it was written.

  Though Thomas volunteered to track Daniel all the way to hell for them, the

  Chinese would only take Abe to guide the patrol. They trusted him because he had

  proved himself untrustworthy. They preferred to use the enemy they knew.

  Abe set out at the head of the soldiers. There were six of them, including Li. Two

  had rifles.

  The footprints – amorphous in the sunny slush – led south up the trail to Everest.

  At the giant stone arrow where the expedition had gone right, Abe turned left. He had

  never been this way but knew where the tracks would lead, toward the Chengri La,

  out from this Utopia.

  The high altitude punished the soldiers and Li. Abe watched their gasping and

  nausea with detachment. He considered leading them on a wild goose chase up a

  subsidiary valley, but there was no need to. If they actually caught up with Daniel,

  they would simply find the truth. Their fugitive was dead.

  Abe stayed alert for places where Daniel might have buried the body beside the

  trail. He was convinced Daniel was alone by this point. For all he knew, Daniel had

  tucked the body under some rocks back at camp and then dived uptrail to mislead

  them. One thing was certain. Presented with the corpse, the Chinese would cancel this

  hunt and they could all leave the mountain for good. Mile after mile, there was no

  body. The tracks led on, huge footprints deformed by the sun.

  'We should return to camp now,' Abe said at three o'clock.

  The sun had warmed the air and beautiful veils of white spindrift curled on the

  mountainside. Underfoot the glacier groaned and snapped. Deep underneath rocks

  exploded into powder. On either side of the trail, little sunballs rolled down the banks.

  'No,' Li said. 'Walk more. More slowly.'

  Shortly afterward, two of the soldiers became very ill. They sat on rocks, holding

  their heads, with vomit on their pants and boots. The officer shouted at them, then

  sent them back to camp.

  Li and the remaining soldiers grew more and more uncoordinated. Hopping across a

  glacier stream, one fell into the water. Farther on, another twisted his knee. It was

  painful to see them groping onward. Each wore the grimacing mask of altitude

  sickness. Abe wondered if Daniel had meant to punish the Chinese so badly. Probably

  not, he decided. This wasn't about revenge.

  Abe tried again at four o'clock. 'We have to go down.'

  Li was weaving in place. Everybody else was sitting. 'They will escape,' he said.

  Abe didn't argue. They could believe what they wanted.

  Li consulted the others. He came over to Abe and pointed at a ruddy young soldier.

  'You go more with this soldier,' he told Abe. 'We will go down now. You have the

  responsibility.'

  The Chinese boy, perhaps eighteen years old, climbed to his feet with an automatic

  rifle slung across his back.

  He smiled at Abe with the solidarity of top athletes, and Abe nodded to him with

  faraway recognition. He had been roped to gung ho kids like this on a hundred

  different mountains. Once upon a time he had been this boy. Under different

  circumstances, they might have been heading off for the summit together. Abe

  started up with the soldier in tow.

  He felt strong and lithe and fast, and was grateful for the hair on his face and

  hanging down over his eyes. They had reached 20,000 feet, but the air felt rich and

  smooth to him. He bounded from stone to stone, almost playful. I belong here, Abe

  thought with surprise. Not so long ago, he had been convinced this wasteland was

  unfit for any animal.

  The Chinese boy was soon struggling for breath, but Abe didn't slow down. He

  wanted to exhaust the boy. If possible, he wanted to make him ill. Abe knew it was

  imperative that he return with the soldier boy. It was one thing to supposedly abet a

  supposed escape attempt. It would be an altogether different issue if Abe showed up

  in camp alone. Regardless of whether the soldier had fallen off a cliff or slipped into a

  crevasse or even decided to defect to Nepal, Li and the officer would cry foul. The

  entire expedition would suffer then, Gus worst of all. Abe gave the soldier some water

  and received some words he took to be thanks.

  The irony was that only by pursuing Daniel faster could Abe hope to slow the

  pursuit. The faster they went, the more likely he could wear this boy down. But no

  matter how fast they went, the soldier didn't sicken or quit. Somehow he kept up.

  At the end of another half-hour, Abe tapped his watch face and pointed at the

  sinking sun. He gestured downward. As it was, they would be descending to camp in

  darkness, probably hampered by the rest of the sick and tired patrol. He had a single

  headlamp and no bivouac gear.

  The young soldier chewed at his lower lip, trying to decide. Their valley had plunged

  into twilight. The air turned cold and as blue as cornflowers. Abe took off his glacier

  glasses and replaced them with his spare wire rims. Underfoot, the wet snow was

  already crystallizing.

  Up ahead, a butt of green ice formed yet another twist in the trail. Abe could just

  make out a cast of penitentes at the turn, their sharp icy spires tilted towards the

  summit. Five minutes more and they turned the corner to come upon a high, wide

  glacial basin. They had entered what Robby, the photographer, called the magic hour,

  that space before sunset when the light painted every shape with color.

  The basin unfolded like vast, iridescent wings, as if a gigantic angel had quickfrozen

  in flight and crashed here between two
mountains. The sides of the basin swept

  upward in long, simple curves, resting to the right upon the steep slopes of Everest

  and to the left upon some darker nameless satellite peak. Not much higher from

  where Abe and the soldier now stood, the wings joined at their neck. The basin

  pinched together forming a ridge. That was the passageway. They were looking at the

  Chengri La.

  There, in a wildfire of gold and red alpenglow, they found Daniel.

  He was not alone. The monk was strapped to his back with climbing rope. When

  Daniel turned to look at them – the soldier had shouted something in Chinese – the

  monk's head turned with him, lifelike, grinning.

  The fugitives were very close, perhaps a hundred yards ahead, but it might as well

  have been a hundred miles. The snowy trail was blown to bits on this open expanse

  and the plateau was pure wind-polished ice.

  Daniel turned back to his trek. He had crampons, of course. He had been here before

  and knew what was needed. His progress was slow, hobbled by the weight on his back

  and the pain in his joints. Very old men moved this way, one foot after the other,

  stirring up the dust of old dreams.

  The soldier boy paced back and forth along the edge of the icy plateau. He shouted

  Chinese words at Daniel without effect. Then, like an overeager hound, the young

  soldier raced off to apprehend his prey.

  He got three steps and promptly slipped, hitting the glassy ice hard. Though it

  looked level, the ice had a slight pitch to it and the soldier began sliding. He tried to

  scramble back to his feet, but dropped his rifle, then dove for it. His slide accelerated.

  Eventually, hundreds of yards lower, perhaps a mile down the valley, the soldier

  would pick up enough speed to brain himself against a jutting rock. If that would have

  finished their problem, Abe might have let the bewildered, scrabbling soldier

  disappear down the sheet of ice.

  The boy scraped and clawed at the ice, increasingly desperate. Abe jogged along

  beside the ice on a bank of glacial pebbles and sand. 'Throw down your gun,' he yelled.

  'Huk,' the boy grunted. He held on to the rifle.

  After another minute, Abe saw his chance. A bank of pebbles was reaching out onto

  the glistening ice like a jetty. Beyond that point, the glacier turned wide and deep and

  the soldier would vanish into the abyss. Abe galloped out onto the jetty.