Murphy's Law

by Yolanda Wallace

  Gigi wiped away a tear. “Sleep is the poor man’s medicine. The rich have better doctors.”

  Olivia squeezed her shoulder. “Remember that when I send you my bill.” She closed her medical bag and stowed it in her backpack.

  Sam smiled to herself. She liked watching Olivia in action. She was a sight to behold. Gentle and kind but, at the same time, as tough as nails. What an intriguing combination.

  Olivia zipped her backpack and slipped her arms through the straps. She turned suddenly, nearly catching Sam staring at her. The wind whipped her hair, lashed at her clothes. “Ready to go?” she asked, using an elastic band to corral her flyaway locks.

  Sam nodded. She didn’t trust herself to speak. If she did, she suspected she’d end up stammering like a smitten suitor or gushing like a starstruck fan. At the moment, she felt like both.

  She resumed her slow but steady pace. When the group neared the fifteen thousand foot mark, she felt the first drops of rain splatter on her helmet. Jimmy and his assistants would have an easier time of it if they began setting up camp before the sky opened up. She was about to suggest they head back down the mountain when he flashed her a thumbs-up. They had been working together for so long they didn’t need to talk to communicate. During climbs, they usually relied on hand signals or, like now, read each other’s minds. Why couldn’t she forge a bond like that with someone else? She had once. When it came to an end, she had resolved not to get that close again. She hadn’t regretted that decision. Until last night.

  Olivia held out her hand. Fat drops of rain pooled in her palm. “How long do the Sherpas need to set up?”

  “Twenty minutes, give or take.”

  “Only five minutes per tent?” Olivia whistled in appreciation. “I need them to tag along with me the next time I go camping. I’ve never set up one tent in less than twenty minutes, let alone four.” She studied the uneven terrain, carefully stepping around loose rocks. “You’re not even breathing hard.”

  “I’m used to this.”

  “Or, like the Sherpas, are you too macho to let on how much you’re hurting?”

  Sam allowed herself a smile. “I thought you were a physician not a psychiatrist.”

  “I’m multi-talented.”

  “So I’ve noticed.”

  Olivia turned to look at her, but Sam remained focused on the trail. She didn’t want Olivia to see the flicker of desire she felt burning in her eyes. A few minutes later, she gave Olivia a sidelong glance. Olivia looked remarkably fresh, but looks—even good ones—could be deceiving. Olivia easily mirrored her pace, a feat few clients had achieved, but the rest of the team was starting to fall behind. Sam took a quick assessment of the group and gave the signal to turn around.

  Frowning, Olivia checked the altimeter on her watch. “We’ve only gone about fifteen hundred feet. I thought our goal for today was two thousand.”

  “It was, but your team’s starting to drag. I think they’ve had enough for one day.”

  Olivia pursed her lips as if she intended to protest her decision. Sam had felt Olivia attempting to push the pace during the leg just as Jimmy said she had during the ascent to base camp. Sam had deliberately slowed the tempo whenever the gap between them and the rest of the group had grown too large. The first time it had happened, she had tried to laugh it off by asking, “What’s the rush?” If it happened again, she wouldn’t be nearly as nice.

  Olivia was the kind of person who had to have her way at all times. She wasn’t used to taking no for an answer. During an expedition, Sam was the same way. She knew in her gut she and Olivia were going to butt heads before the climb was over. Thankfully, the expected confrontation wasn’t going to be today.

  Olivia looked longingly at the trail, then shrugged and said, “Majority rules.”

  The team began to head back the way they had come. Peter slipped on the gritty trail, but Pasang grabbed a fistful of his jacket just before his feet went out from under him, saving him from a nasty fall.

  “Thanks. I owe you one,” he said gratefully. His hands shook from adrenaline. Or was it fear?

  Pasang clapped him on the back. “Put it on my tab.”

  “Don’t let your guard down,” Sam said after she made sure Peter was okay. “No one ever fell up a mountain. Most accidents happen on the descent, not the climb.”

  Peter hurried to catch up to her and Olivia after they worked their way to the front of the pack. “I’d like to interview you for my vlog tonight.”

  “You already have more footage of me than you know what to do with,” Olivia said.

  “Not you.” He turned to Sam. “You.”

  Sam was so surprised she nearly acted out the Jack and Jill nursery rhyme without the pail of water. “Why me?”

  “The story is incomplete without your side of it.” He framed an imaginary headline in the air. “‘Heroic Guide Leads Team to Annapurna Peak.’ Not my best, but you get the general idea.”

  Sam lengthened her stride, quickly establishing distance between herself and the rest of the pack. “Thanks, but no thanks. Pick someone else.”

  *

  In comparison to Mt. Everest, where permanent camps were virtual tent cities because of all the climbers conducting simultaneous assaults on the mountain, Annapurna I was barren. Four tents were erected in a circle. A fire pit had been dug in the center of the circle, but the rain, which had been falling nonstop for hours, prevented the gathered logs from catching fire. The only light and heat in the rapidly cooling darkness came from large Coleman lanterns. The supplies were housed in one tent. The climbers would share the other three. Olivia assumed the Sherpas would sleep in one; Gigi, Chance, and Peter in another; and she, Sam, and Marie-Eve would inhabit the third.

  She balanced a plate of chicken fettuccine on her lap. The noodles were overcooked, the sauce was scalded, and the chicken tasted like the propane from the gas grill used to prepare the meal.

  Marie-Eve, who had volunteered to make dinner, took a bite and frowned. “Sorry about the chow, guys.”

  Olivia shoveled another forkful into her mouth. She didn’t care about the taste. She needed the protein. “It’s hot and I didn’t have to make it. That’s all that matters.”

  Marie-Eve pushed her food around her plate. “Definitely not my best effort. Maybe I should stick to hockey.”

  “You’ll do better the next time Pasang needs a day off.” Olivia felt like a coach trying to lift a player’s spirits after a bad game. “If not,” she added with a wink, “you’ll be relegated to KP for the rest of the trip.”

  She and her team sat shoulder to shoulder in a tent designed to sleep three. Space was limited, but the collected body heat helped her feel warm for the first time since they had stumbled into camp exhausted and soaking wet. She hadn’t realized how tired she was until she stopped moving.

  She listened to the rain falling against the rounded top and angled sides of the tent. The sound was so relaxing it nearly lulled her to sleep. Fatigue helped, too. She wasn’t the only one feeling the effects of the “easy” first day. Yawns were frequent and prolonged.

  Chance’s persistent dry cough had not improved despite the lower elevation, but his breathing was markedly better and his appetite had returned. Both positive signs. She’d take as many of those as she could get.

  Sam was right to end the leg when she had. Olivia patted herself on the back for picking the right guide—and tried to remind herself to stay out of the way so Sam could do her job.

  Through the open tent flap, she could see Sam visiting with the Sherpas. Their tent was the largest of the four, a veritable Taj Mahal compared to the others. Only the supply tent, which housed both supplies and communications gear, approached its size. Sam sat on the tent floor. Her sinewy arms rested on her upraised knees, her triceps and forearms rippling as she opened a pack of beef jerky. Her black rain slicker was drying on the back of a rolled-up sleeping bag. If the sleeping bag was hers, she obviously intended to bunk down where she was instead of sha
ring a tent with her. Looks like Marie-Eve and I will have the place to ourselves tonight.

  Peter jerked his chin in Sam’s direction. “What was that about earlier?”

  Olivia had a good idea what he was referring to, but she asked the question nevertheless. “What was what about?”

  “She freaked out when I asked her to be in my vlog.” He punched a series of buttons on the laptop Rae and Sam had provided. After Sam shot down his request for an interview, Olivia had stepped in to take her place. When he clicked Submit on the computer, their latest question and answer session was uploaded to his website, a spot visited by thousands of subscribers each day. “Maybe she has something to hide.”

  Olivia agreed Sam’s adamant refusal was curious, but she doubted the snub warranted as much attention as Peter was giving it. “Contrary to popular belief, not everyone wants to have fifteen minutes of fame.”

  He pulled a lighter and a battered packet of Marlboros from the inner recesses of his water-resistant jacket. He shook out a cigarette and lit up. “I don’t think the explanation is as simple as you’re making it out to be. Anyone who climbs mountains for a living doesn’t strike me as the shy, retiring type.” He blew a smoke ring toward the tent opening. “I smell a story. I’m not going to stop digging until I unearth it.”

  “I smell smoke.” Gigi fanned the air with both hands. “Could you hurry up and finish your cancer stick so the rest of us can breathe?”

  “Let him enjoy it while he can,” Chance said. “In another day or two, he’ll have to choose between smoking and breathing. I think breathing will win out.”

  “Don’t be so sure. Breathing can be vastly overrated, especially when I have this.” Peter reached into his jacket and pulled out a plastic bag.

  “Is that what I think it is?” Marie-Eve snatched the bag out of his hands, pulled it open, and stuck her nose inside.

  “Friends have told me that they get the highest highs when they smoke at altitude.”

  “That’s nothing more than a myth perpetuated by potheads attempting to swell their membership numbers,” Gigi said.

  Marie-Eve inhaled deeply. “And this is the finest weed I’ve ever come across.” She zipped the bag shut and tossed it back. “When you dip into that, you’d better find me or else.”

  Peter stuffed the bag into his pocket. “Don’t worry. I’ve got your back.”

  “I’m not even going to ask how you got that in the country,” Olivia said.

  Peter squirmed in his seat. “Let’s just say I took one for the team.”

  The low rumble of laughter drew Olivia’s gaze to the Sherpas’ tent. Sam joined in the joviality as she unrolled her sleeping bag, but her eyes, lit by the flickering flame of the lantern at her feet, seemed haunted.

  Sam looked up and met her gaze. Olivia offered what she hoped was a supportive smile. Sam’s blank expression remained unchanged as she zipped the tent closed.

  Peter extinguished his cigarette on the sole of his shoe and shoved the butt in his pocket. “Do you still think she doesn’t have anything to hide?”

  Olivia ate the last of her food, then rinsed her plate with the rest of her bottled water. “I think she has the right idea,” she said with an exaggerated yawn. “Let’s get some sleep so we can wake up and do this all over again tomorrow.”

  After everyone bedded down for the night, she was tormented by thoughts of something she couldn’t explain. Sam was obviously holding something back, but Olivia couldn’t imagine what. What secret was she hiding behind those blue eyes?

  Chapter Four

  Despite the guarantees of a certain red-haired orphan in a classic Broadway musical, the sun did not come out tomorrow. Or the day after. Or the day after that. The rain continued unabated for nearly four days. Hard at first, then a maddening drizzle that felt like an updated version of the ancient Chinese water torture. The treks uphill were slow going slogs, the ones downhill occasionally devolved into hair-raising slides. Mud covered everyone and everything.

  “Tell me again why I decided to do this.” Chance struggled to free his size fourteen hiking boots from the sodden earth.

  “Because you didn’t want me to have this wonderful adventure without you,” Gigi said.

  “By adventure, you mean—”

  He didn’t finish his sentence. His words trailed off as deep, racking coughs seized his body. He held an unsteady hand over his chest as if he were afraid of tearing something loose. The coughing fit continued for several minutes. When it finally ended, he took a deep breath and grinned as if to say, “I’m glad that’s over.” Then his eyes rolled back and he slowly toppled forward, crashing to the ground like a mighty oak being felled in a forest.

  “Chance!” Gigi dropped her trekking poles and rushed to his side, half-crawling and half-sliding down the mountain. Olivia was right behind her.

  Sam had been waiting for this to happen. Chance’s blood oxygen levels had been hovering in the mid to high eighties since the morning after the first leg. High enough not to officially count as altitude sickness but too low for her comfort. She had to give him credit, though. He was a strong guy and he was fighting his heart out to keep inching his way up the mountain, but enough was enough. If Dr. Curtis didn’t do what needed to be done, she’d pull the plug herself.

  She roused him on the radio. “BC, do you read? Over.”

  “I’m here, Sam. What do you have? Over.”

  “A potential medical emergency. Be prepared to arrange evac. Stand by for further details. Over.”

  “Roger. Standing by. Over.”

  Olivia rolled Chance onto his back and stripped off her jacket. Rain quickly turned her long-sleeved white T-shirt transparent. The cotton cloth clung to her small, pert breasts and flat stomach. She tossed her jacket to Peter, who was standing slack-jawed a few feet away.

  “What am I supposed to do with this?”

  Olivia grabbed his pants leg and pulled him forward. “Keep the rain out of his face.”

  “Right.” He and Marie-Eve held the jacket aloft like a protective tarp.

  Forsaking modesty, Olivia peeled off her shirt, folded it up, and placed it under Chance’s head. She gently disengaged Gigi’s hands from his jacket. “Let me do my job, okay?”

  “No!” Gigi pulled away. Her heartfelt pleas tore at Sam’s heart. “Don’t die, Papi. Don’t die.” She continued to claw at Chance’s clothes, rub his cheeks. His unmoving face looked like a death mask. Blood seeped from his nose. Had he broken it during his fall or did he have yet another symptom of HAPE?

  Olivia looked up, her eyes imploring. “Sam, help me.”

  Sam wrapped her arms around Gigi’s shoulders and pulled her away. She strengthened her hold when the hysterical woman tried to break free. Gigi’s sobs shook both their bodies.

  Olivia wiped the caked-on mud off Chance’s face and cleared his airways. She pressed her ear to his chest, then checked his pulse. “Persistent. Rapid. He’s still with us.”

  “Oh, thank God.”

  Gigi sagged with relief. In an instant, Sam went from holding her back to holding her up. She tried and failed to find words of solace. Out of her element, she gave Gigi’s shoulder an awkward pat.

  “Jimmy, reach inside my backpack and toss me my—”

  Anticipating her needs as well as he did Sam’s, Jimmy handed Olivia her medical bag.

  “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome, Dr. Bradshaw.” He bowed and quickly backed away, giving her room to complete her assessment.

  She waved smelling salts under Chance’s nose. He groaned and jerked his head away from the pungent aroma.

  “What the—”

  When he tried to sit up. Olivia placed a hand on his chest and pushed him back down. “Easy.”

  He rested his head on the makeshift pillow. His eyes were wild. Filled with fear. Pink froth clung to his lips. His left hand scrabbled through the mud as if he were seeking to ground himself. Sam let go. Gigi crawled to her husband and held his hand in b
oth of hers.

  Awash in all-too-familiar feelings of helplessness, Sam sat on her haunches and watched the medical drama unfold.

  Olivia stuffed a wad of cotton in Chance’s nostril to staunch the flow of blood. Then she wrapped a blood pressure cuff around his arm. “Eighty over fifty. Too low,” she said, more to herself than anyone else. She removed the cuff and placed the pulse oximeter on his index finger. Her shoulders sagged when the reading appeared on the small LED screen. “Sixty-eight. You know what this means, don’t you?”

  Chance nodded soberly. “A free ride down the mountain.” He lifted his head and looked over his shoulder. The location for the second permanent camp was less than a ten-minute hike away, but he’d never reach it. Not on this trip, anyway. His first attempt to summit Annapurna I had come to an unceremonious end. “Do me a favor. Call a stretch limo, not a cab. I want to travel in style.”

  “Sure thing.”

  Olivia’s face was wet. Sam couldn’t tell if raindrops or tears were streaming down her cheeks. Olivia began to shiver. Her teeth chattered like castanets. Sam couldn’t blame her. The rain felt like ice. If Olivia’s body temperature fell too much, she’d have to treat herself for exposure.

  Sam took off her jacket and draped it over Olivia’s shoulders. Olivia continued working as if she didn’t notice, but her hand brushed Sam’s, her touch as soft as her whisper of thanks.

  “We have a Gamow bag if you need it,” Sam said.

  Olivia’s eyebrows knitted as she considered the suggestion. The pressurized compartment of the inflatable plastic chamber simulated the altitude at a lower elevation. Air introduced into the bag via a foot pump allowed the inhabitant’s oxygen levels to return to a reading closer to normal.

  “Keep it. The Gamow bag is for use in the most severe cases. We’re not there yet.” Olivia reached for a bottle of supplemental oxygen and placed the mask over Chance’s face. “Keep this on. The extra O2 will help you breathe easier and keep you stable until you can receive more intense medical treatment in Kathmandu.”