by Eddy Will
Diana’s Disciples
A novel by
Eddy Will
This book is dedicated to my wife Beth, without whom this work would not have been possible. Ever.
Diana’s Disciples Copyright © 2017 by Eddy Will. All Rights Reserved.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.
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This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Eddy Will
Printed in the United States of America
First Printing: May 2018
Name of Company
ISBN-13 ooo-0-0000000-1-2
Chapter 1
Palcaraju Oste, Huarez, Peru, August 1, 2012, 10:34 AM
Anna Jaeger squinted at the steep mountain and its frozen surface. She hammered her ice pick into the icy skin and pulled herself up another foot. A fierce wind battered her tethered body and cut icily through her parka. It had been sunny when she and her two companions had set out from the small town of Huarez to scale the East side of the majestic Palcaraju. But clouds had moved in quickly, first reducing their visibility, then bringing a brutal wind threatening to blow the three-person-team off the rock wall. Anna buried the spikes of her climbing boots into the frozen surface, leaned back and looked down. The bottom, some 900 feet below, had been swallowed up by dense fog as had Tom O’Malley who was bringing up the rear. Jane, Anna’s friend since High School, was in the middle and barely visible. Jane looked up, her head covered by a helmet, her face protected by large tinted goggles and a shawl. She waived her gloved hand. Jane was a trooper, but poor weather ruined it for the Southern California native every time.
Anna knew Look-Out Ledge was not far beyond the fog line, a small platform chunked out by pre-historic forces, a chip in the icy granite just big enough to give shelter to a handful of climbers. On a clear day the ledge offered awesome views of the regal Peruvian mountain range but today it would serve as a place to rest and reassess. Small snowflakes swirled around her mask. A storm was moving in and there was no sense in taking on the mountain and the weather.
Anna buried the ice pick with force and pulled herself closer to Look-Out Ledge. The temperature was below freezing, yet she sweated inside her protective gear. A gust of wind kicked at her, as if the mountain wanted to flick off a pesky nuisance. Anna’s strong fingers clawed at black granite jutting out sharply from the white ice, razor-like edges daring the climber to lose her footing. She scanned the fog for Look-Out Ledge.
Fog and snow twirled in a crazed dance, now exposing the ledge, now hiding it from view. Anna worked her way up the steep incline, her sole focus the rock recess above. She swung her arm over the edge and hammered her ice pick into the flat part of Look-Out Ledge.
A strong hand grabbed her wrist. She screamed in surprise. The big hand snapped shut like a steel trap and brutally yanked her body onto the ledge, her frame twisting from the sudden force. She stared into the black mask of a burly man. The snow mask hid the man’s face, but not the menace in his eyes. Anna’s mind raced. Everything was wrong. Nothing made sense. But before her brain could sort through the powerful signals sent by primeval intuition, the man pulled her to her feet and spun her around. Powerful arms held her tightly. A second masked man harshly pulled off her face gear. Biting cold wind slapped her face, seeking to cut through her skin. The man studied her face for a moment before he spoke to his companion in a language Anna did not understand. He flashed a large serrated knife. Anna’s eyes widened in terror. The man cut the rope which tethered Anna to her companions with one easy motion. Anna struggled in vain against two powerful arms holding her tightly. Her brain fought to connect the pieces that defied connecting. The man tossed the cut rope over the ledge and pulled a radio from his jacket. He spoke in short bursts interrupted only by the crackling of the short-range radio. A voice responded, then cut off. Anna’s captors pulled her away from the edge and pressed their bodies against the rock wall at the back of the ledge.
A sharp, thundering crack shook her body, then another. Anna did not understand, but her intuition screamed inside her head. Everything was wrong. She felt the powerful impulse to run, but even if she freed herself, she was trapped on the small ledge with a nine hundred foot drop just beyond the edge. Her captor spoke rapidly into the radio and Anna heard the tinny response from the small speaker. She did not understand the words, but she understood the urgency in the man’s voice coming from somewhere else on the mountain. The man with the radio shouted a stern command to his partner and both pressed their bodies against the hard granite wall. The man holding Anna was tall and broad-shouldered. His arms threatened to squeeze the breath from Anna’s panicked lungs. He spun her around and shielded her with his body. Anna cowered in the small space between her captor and the granite wall, sharp edges of granite digging into her side.
The ground shook, a powerful force vibrating through millions of tons of granite. Unable to breathe, paralyzed with terror, Anna’s eyes found a narrow space between the man’s body and the ground. And as the rock trembled a thundering roar came from above. The sound made her tremble with fear as her mind began to understand the incomprehensible.
Avalanche.
But how? Why? An ice pick landed hard and determined on the ledge and Jane’s head appeared above the ledge. She had removed her snow glasses and Anna looked into her friend’s eyes. Eyes filled with terror and panic, eyes that had seen the massive wall of snow hurling its crushing mass at her. But she froze in place when she saw Anna and the two men huddled against the back of the ledge. Anna saw the struggle for comprehension on her friend’s face and for a brief moment Jane had halted her panicked race for safety. The childhood friends locked eyes as a million tons of snow barreled over the ledge and everything turned white. Anna heard her friend’s scream for a brief moment before all sounds were drowned by the thundering roar of the avalanche. Anna screamed and fought against the captor holding her down.
But she was unable to move, pinned between the rock and the hulking body of her captor. The crushing avalanche roared by for what seemed eternity. Eventually the deafening sound and white snow lessened and then all was quiet. Deadly quiet. Even the whistle of the wind had seized, as if nature was dumbstruck by the ferocity of the wave of snow that had swept down the mountain obliterating everything and everyone in its path.
Anna shook uncontrollably with terror and rage, for whoever these men were, they were responsible for her friends’ gruesome end. And she would make them pay. Rage rose from her deepest core. She struggled hard to free herself, wiggling her slender body this way and that way, turning and twisting and kicking. The man’s grip briefly loosened, his arm slipping across her face.
Anna attacked. She buried her teeth in the man’s gloved wrist with the ferocity of a cornered wolf. The man screamed. Her teeth had pierced her captor’s glove and found flesh and blood. She tore at the wound, digging her teeth into the man’s wrist. The man cursed in his native tongue, roaring with rage. He let go of his victim and Anna swung her elbow into her captor’s throat, sending the powerful man falling backwards, his big hands grabbing his battered neck.
Anna flew to her feet and with a blood-curdling scream jumped onto the man’s chest leading with both knees, crushing ribs. The big man exhaled hard, but Anna was not done. She tore the man’s mask from his face and punched her stiffened finge
rs into his eyes. The man screamed, his face twisted in horror and pain. Anna’s assault was relentless. She swung her arm for another punishing blow when the strong hand of the second man interrupted the trajectory of her fist. The second man harshly twisted her off his partner’s battered body. He slammed her to the ground and straddled Anna. She swung her arm but the man was strong. He roughly shoved a rag into Anna’s face covering her mouth and nose. Anna struggled for air, sucking in the antiseptic smell of the rag. A cloudy wave swept her senses and her arms grew heavy, her sight dimmed and sounds faded into the distance. And then, on the thin ledge, nine hundred feet above ground, Anna Jaeger lost consciousness.
Chapter 2
Huarez, Peru, August 1, 2012, 10:43 AM
Jack Storm looked up from his computer, his intense focus broken. It was a deep rumbling sound that had distracted him from his work in the hotel room. The computer screen was filled with photographs taken a day earlier of his wife Anna and her friends, Jane and Tom, on a hike during which he had twisted his ankle, precluding him from today’s climb. Anna’s face filled the screen, flushed from exertion and cold, happy and vibrant. She was the poster girl for outdoor activities and Jack photographed her excursions into the wild, whether in exotic locations such as the majestic mountains of Peru or in a National Park in the States.
Storm set down his coffee mug and walked to the window. Main Street was bustling with activity, but something was different. All heads were turned to the mountain. They had heard it too, the deep rumble coming from the twenty thousand foot tall mountain. Storm craned his neck but was unable to see the mountain from his hotel room window. The day was clear and calm, the clouds well above the tallest buildings of the town.
Curiosity mixed with dread and Jack Storm grabbed his parka and backpack and rushed out the door.
Cold air snapped at him the moment he stepped on the sidewalk. Storm struggled into his parka as he crossed the busy street in search of a better vantage point. He picked up snippets of conversation, as he hurried to the foot of the mountain. Yes, there had been an avalanche, and it had been a large one.
At the edge of town a crowd gathered. A cloud of snow was still settling, flakes swirling in the air. Below the massive cloud lay a mountain of snow, pushed up into a tall wall of ice. Roof tops stuck out from the snow, the rest of the structures swallowed up by the white tsunami.
Jack Storm’s eyes followed the path of the avalanche up the sloping mountain side. The trail of the snow slide was as unmistakable as it was enormous. A brazen path cut through tall pines, a path now devoid of any growth, any life. The path of destruction disappeared into clouds and from view and Storm’s dread was confirmed: Anna had been on a head-on collision course with a wall of snow dozens of feet high. Jack’s mind rifled through alternative scenarios: Anna had left early and might have been up high enough to miss the wall of death. But Jane and Tom were less experienced and would have slowed the pace. Maybe Anna had changed the chosen path to the summit and opted for an easier ascent. And then there was the least likely option: maybe the trio had turned around and would be arriving at the hotel any moment. Jack shook his head as the alternatives presented themselves.
Sirens announced the arrival of rescue crews, racing against time to pluck victims from the suffocating snow. Some had begun to dig their way to the half dozen buried homes.
A short, compact officer of the Mountain Rescue delivered instructions in quick Spanish to a group of young men huddled around the officer’s marked all-terrain vehicle. A map lay sprawled across the flat hood and the officer’s short stubby index fingers punched the paper in various locations, while words flowed in rapid succession from under his bushy moustache. Storm stepped in when the group of rescuers hurried to their assigned tasks and informed the officer of his missing wife and identified the most likely path they would have taken to the summit. The officer’s dark eyes followed Jack’s fingers on the map, his tanned, creased face expressionless as he did so. He turned his head to the mountain and followed the path of the avalanche to the clouds, just as Storm had done moments earlier. Finally he turned to Storm, his face a mask, but his eyes told the story.
“I understand your concern sir,” he said in English, “But please understand mine: I have a dozen homes buried to the roof in snow and I know there are people in those houses that need help right now. Every second is precious for these people. I mean no disrespect, but we are not sure your wife and her friends were in the avalanche’s path, and, frankly, if they were,” he said, his voice trailing off, “their chances are slim. I have to focus my attention on the people I know are buried in those houses.”
“I have an avalanche transceiver right here in my back pack, sir, doesn’t that help?”
“Where would we look, young man? The face of the avalanche is over six hundred feet wide and maybe a quarter mile long. I am sorry, sir, but I cannot help you at this time. But do let me know if you get a signal”, the Mountain Rescue Officer said, ending the conversation.
Storm was furious but the officer was right. And so Storm activated the avalanche beacon and climbed the steep incline of the snow mountain. His eyes scanned the white desert for signs of life. There were none. Only the biting wind snapping at his face. Jack retrieved the two-way radio from his parka and against all odds sought communication with Anna. Storm was rationalizing and in denial, but that suited him fine for the moment. It gave him hope where there should be none.
Drawing on his military Combat Search and Rescue training Jack walked a predetermined pattern, covering every square foot, the avalanche transceiver in his hand, waiting for the sound that indicated the presence of a transmitter. He regularly checked the two-way radio, calling his wife’s name, pleading for her to respond.
The sun dipped behind the mountain and the temperature dropped rapidly. Jack had found nothing, but continued his pattern search.
The sound of cheers raced across the snow from the rescue effort underway at the edge of the avalanche. The stocky rescue officer was finding his victims and bringing them out alive, a task far more rewarding than searching for missing climbers who in all likelihood had not survived their tumble in the brutal snow slide.
Jack shivered and was tired. His brain had gone numb, the reality of Anna’s probable fate pounding at the gates of his denying mind. The transceiver in his hand had sounded off for several seconds before Jack’s mind comprehended. Suddenly fully alert, Storm stepped in various directions looking for the signal and stopped when it was clear and strong. Someone was buried underneath his feet.
Jack Storm dropped his backpack as a marker and ran across the deep snow. He waived his arms and shouted at the rescue teams.
Ten minutes later, Jack and a dozen men dug in the snow with urgency, some with shovels others with bare hands. Hours had passed since the wall of snow had cut its deadly path and the odds for survival had diminished dramatically but they were odds nonetheless. Soon an area had been staked out and marked with yellow tape. Others still set up powerful work lights to keep the site from slipping into darkness. Jack Storm was unaware of the brutal wind that swept across the open ground. His sole focus was moving snow with his bare hands from a deepening hole.
Shouts rang out at an adjacent dig site. They had found something. Jack pushed through the crowd to the hole in the snow. An arm stuck out from the densely compacted snow. The team worked quickly and efficiently at freeing the body trapped under the snow. Soon the head was clear, awkwardly twisted to the side. The crew fell silent and all eyes turned to Jack Storm. Some crossed themselves, others muttered quiet prayers. The blond curls matted against the head left no doubt. It was Jane, Anna’s best friend. A medic checked in vain for signs of life, his finger working along the neckline searching for a pulse while other hands worked quickly to free the rest of the body and minutes later all snow had been removed and an area cleared around the body. Men lifted the corpse from its icy grave, but a tug halted their movement. Black ropes attached to Jane’s harness ran to
the ground and disappeared in a wall of snow.
Jack was unable to move, standing on the edge of the hole. Yes, it was Jane and, yes, she was dead. The buddy lines pointed to more victims. Jack’s mind went numb, a senseless void taking its place, the mind preparing itself, bracing for the imminent brutal assault, the undeniable reality that would change his life forever, a reality that would not be rationalized, would not be explained away. Anna would be at the other end of that buddy line and her body would be as battered and broken as Jane’s. There was little doubt and Jack’s mind had gone numb, had retreated into the darkest recesses of the brain, unable to accept, unwilling to embark on the journey of pain and suffering and mourning and despair that would be his travel companion for a long, long time. And so Jack Storm stood motionless at the edge of the icy grave, while a battle raged in his mind, a battle between denial, between rationalization, between what-ifs and reality armed with powerful weapons of facts and reason.
The rescue team followed the black climbing rope and dug their way to another body. They uncovered legs and Jack realized it was Tom. Strong hands freed the body and confirmed what Jack already knew. Tom, too, was dead.
A second buddy line ran from Jane’s harness and disappeared in the snow. And once again the digging resumed with grim determination. They reached the end of the rope but there was no one attached to it. There was no body, no Anna.
The bodies were handed by many hands to many hands and laid out on the ground. Medics confirmed the inevitable. Others continued the search for Anna’s body where the rope had ended. Jack picked up the end of the rope. There was no sign of fraying or shearing. It was a clean cut.