by Mike Miller
Jah quickly released the dagger back down at Snider. It sunk to the hilt in the colonel’s other shoulder. A loud cry from the freshly wounded man became a long string of sobs. He rolled about while nursing both shoulders.
With a blank expression devoid of emotion, Jah began to calmly march back towards Baxter. The soldier nervously watched the approach, his wide eyes darting back and forth between the reloading of his weapon and the arrival of the ferocious lad.
With paces to spare between the two men, Baxter finally locked the next shell in his rifle, then hoisted it to his cheek to aim at the blank eyes of Jah, who stopped in his advancement. With a relaxed demeanour, the pause in Jah’s progress seemed more from leisure than from any perceived threat.
The barrel of Baxter’s weapon twitched with nervous anxiety, and his left hand throttled down harder on the rifle’s stock as if strangling the neck of an unruly animal. The gun rose and fell with his heavy breathing. Sweat stung Baxter’s eyes, but he feared blinking for that slight disruption could be the only opportunity the Asian would need to strike him down.
Jah was bemused by the situation, though to Baxter it was a moment of high tension, a pivotal turning point in the two’s relationship.
“What are you doing?” Jah’s eyes slowly looked the black man over as if meeting for the first time.
The large cannon was growing more cumbersome under the strain to keep it aloft. Eventually Baxter answered, “Don’t kill them.”
Jah sighed with impatience. His eyes rolled aside at the ridiculousness. “And why not?” he growled, his thin lips pouting with frustration like a denied child.
Baxter did not want to prolong the situation with debate, but the only alternative was pulling the trigger and initiating what would likely be the final fight of his life. He exhaled slowly to try and calm himself. “They haven’t done anything wrong.”
Jah scoffed. “They have not?” The boy looked about at his surroundings as he grew bored with the discussion.
“No,” Baxter said. “We can leave them be.”
Jah found his spot, so he wandered over to a large rock to seat himself upon it. “Yet you are willing to accompany me to slay the Yeti? Does it deserve to die?”
“Yes. I believe so,” Baxter said, trailing his weapon over to point its snout at Jah. The move apparently upset the boy into a sneer with the continued theatrics of confrontation. “The Yeti will continue to kill, but these men pose no threat.”
But despite growing visibly perturbed, Jah rested his arm on his knee while propping his stick up into a leisurely stand for his other hand. “I’m happy you agree on the beast. But I thought you were both a just man and a killer, so what stops us now with these animals?” Jah waved his hand back at the silhouettes in the distance. The broken men crawled to their feet like lurching, reanimated corpses.
“Their souls,” Baxter responded. “Even the worst men have them.”
“Souls,” Jah laughed like he had just heard a delightful joke. “Do you invent these rules as you go along?”
Baxter nodded in the negative. “No. I learn them. And do my best to obey them.”
Jah chuckled. Baxter couldn’t help but smile in kind. “It’s so easy for you British,” the Asian said. Baxter was unsure how to respond, but in the pause, the issue passed. “I don’t believe you even know who these men are, nor what they’ve done.”
“You’re right, I don’t.” Baxter said. “So let us leave them be, and just continue back along our path.” Baxter offered a friendly smile to resolve the situation in the kindest possible manner. He lowered his weapon to demonstrate the peace.
“Even the woman?” asked Jah.
Baxter paused to be sure he had heard correctly, as perhaps the boy’s thick accent had obscured the words. “The woman?” Baxter repeated to be certain.
Now, Jah looked back at Baxter with the same perplexed look. After gasping in astonishment, he then laughed in a short spasm of disbelief with a sinister tone of pleasure. “Indeed, soldier. Tell me what you want to do with the woman.” Jah again motioned towards the glowing campfire at the heart of the dark shadows of the men.
Despite an uncanny sensation warning him of a bad trap, Baxter could not help but walk towards the group of men to investigate. His eyes cautiously bounced back and forth between his destination and the black-clad figure seated behind him that had instructed him to inspect the scene. “See her, then tell me if those men have souls,” Jah called out to him.
Baxter reached the periphery of the group, his slow steps cautiously moving him through their still decimated ranks. The gaunt men looked up at Baxter with hollow but spiteful eyes while they shuffled away from him in fear.
At the centre of the group by the fire, Baxter finally reached Colonel Snider, still laying upon the ground with both arms folded across his chest as his palms compressed the wounds in each shoulder. “Curse you,” he choked out in a soft rasp.
A woman’s slow moan distracted Baxter. He turned to find her wrapped in a blanket on the ground. Memories fought to the forefront of Baxter’s mind, battling for position like a crowded racetrack of horses at the finish line. It was the woman from the train, the nun, whom Conrad had seduced with his assistance. Last he had seen her, she had stabbed him. No, Baxter had seen her watching his execution from the back of the ranks when the Yeti first attacked.
Dropping to one knee at her side, Baxter could see her eyes flitting open in pupil-less whites. Her head drifted from side to side in sleepless meandering, another low groan drifting from her dry, blanched lips. When Baxter wrapped his arms around the woman to raise her upright, she screamed wildly.
The unholy noise was astoundingly sharp and loud considering the frailty of its owner. The sudden cry startled Baxter into quickly laying her back onto the snowy hearth, where she proceeded to writhe in pain while uttering a string of pained cries and moans. Mortified at the backlash to his aid, Baxter studied the woman.
As if in a rapt bout of possession, the woman’s entire body squirmed, like the limbs and head were trying to unscrew themselves from the torso to which they were trapped in attachment. But as the woman’s arms and legs kicked about beneath the heavy blanket, Baxter made a horrifying realisation. “Dear God,” he said in struck terror.
Each limb did not move about with the normal range of motion. Even though she was cloaked beneath the blankets, he could discern that her left arm was abbreviated into a stump somewhere above the elbow. The woman’s right arm was either completely immobile or not there at all. One of her thighs lifted from the ground to reveal a definite termination at the knee. Perhaps the right leg was the only limb that seemed to remain in full, though it was difficult to be certain as Baxter averted his eyes from the horror as quickly as he could.
He jumped and stumbled backwards, away from the monstrous vision. His gaze could not completely detach itself to remain transfixed upon the poor girl on the periphery of his vision. He looked down at his hands which were smeared with black blood from the damp shroud the woman had been wrapped in.
“What have you done?” he asked without addressing any one in particular. His eyesight only found relief from the terrifying exhibit when it turned back towards Jah, now a shadowy and faceless spectator on the outskirts of the firelight.
Snider obliged with an answer. “We survived, you dumb savage.”
Still groaning, the woman’s eyes fluttered open, her pupils now manifesting though rolling about inside her skull with aimless perception. The groans became broken and interrupted, the noises almost becoming words as her lips and tongue struggled to form coherent sounds as it spat hardened consonants. He listened to the wretched dialogue, a tortured tongue of an unknown language, but Baxter could not tell what she had to say.
Without thinking too much about it, Baxter holstered his weapon and fired it into his target with unmistakable accuracy. The woman’s gargling grunts silenced with the gunshot.
Baxter marched away from the execution with speedy efficienc
y. Colonel Snider watched him pass, but Baxter refused any further acknowledgment of his presence. “It’s all your fault,” Snider said, though the words did not inflict any flinching upon Baxter’s hardened stride. “Because of you, that’s why we’re here. How you’ve destroyed us all. You’re the real monster!” the colonel berated the departing private.
As Baxter marched closer, Jah rose to his feet and readied himself to depart. The solider did not say a word, but Jah easily perceived the intense simmering written upon the man’s face. The two silently resumed their climb up the mountain where Baxter now led the way.
Chapter XLIV
Upon the Summit
Conrad awoke with numb lips. He rolled them back into his mouth and rubbed them with his tongues and hands to hope there was still enough time to save them from frostbite and not be lipless for the remainder of his life. When he remembered that he was now alone atop this frigid wasteland, he figured he might not have such concerns to deal with much longer anyway.
The sky was impossibly clear, a sharp blue like the coastal waters of a Mediterranean beach in the summer. The few clouds that floated by looked as if they were etched from marble. Despite the vicious cold, it was a simply beautiful day.
When Conrad staggered to his feet, he almost drunkenly lurched himself backwards off the cliff and into the chasm. Once Conrad recalled his exact location, he quickly dove for safety, hopping away from the edge and back onto his numb, grizzly face.
To minimise the risk of plummeting to his death, he crawled on his belly as if under heavy artillery fire until he was safely clear of the treacherous fall.
Conrad rose to his feet and cleared the snow and dirt from his face and coat. He coiled the rope and hung the trusted pickaxe against his waist while surveying his surroundings. Now at the base of this steep mountainside, up and to his left was the icy corridor his expedition had traversed when the revolt finally occurred. Past that long chamber was unknown territory, which included the last sighted whereabouts of Douglas and the party as they scampered away from the hellish beast.
Though his body ached from the relentless exertion of the past days, Conrad had no other option than to trudge up the mountainside.
When he finally reached the access point to that long icy trail where the monster had battled his group, he paused for rest and examined the site of the massacre. Dark streaks of blood spread across the ice, the carnage even extending to the roof. The blood dotted the landscape in scattered bursts like large, dead flowers.
But then Conrad observed something peculiar. Akin to the site of the original expedition’s demise, there was a scarcity of any remnants of the devastation except for the ample gore soaked into the surroundings. Equipment, weapons, clothing, even dead bodies all should have littered the ground, but were completely absent from view. Even if that vicious thing was capable of eating a man whole, was it so wildly savage as to wipe the area clean of all the wood, cloth and metal too?
From the icy corridor past the unseen peak of the slope, a trail clearly marked the battle’s progress up the mountainside in bursts of red and blue blood with the scuffled tracks of both man and monster.
Conrad could well have turned aside to return down the mountain path they had ascended. But without additional food and native guidance, without the time-saving bridge, he felt like that route would only harbour a slow and inevitable doom. However, to continue climbing the mountain and retrace the bloody footsteps of battle that had destroyed the others was a comparatively insane route too, where retreat was the more intuitive route to safety.
Beyond the odds of survival, the deciding factor in his decision was a powerful curiosity for what may lay ahead of him. If he was going to die, it might as well be interesting. In his years of adventuring, it was all he ever could have asked of his doom. So Conrad started hiking up the mountain.
Once he had finally trekked the entire expanse of the avalanched slope, Conrad was greeted with a curious sight. From below on the approach, he could only see the flat line that separated snowy ridge from blue sky. But once he finally crossed the barrier, the point surrendered into a long, flat disc of land. It was as if someone had cleanly beheaded the top of the mountain and left a perfectly level plateau in its place. The absolute flatness of the ground was disturbing, but Conrad crossed down the bumpy lip of stone onto this smooth plane.
Once his foot rested atop the surface, his mind quickly solved the riddle. As the ground crinkled softly beneath his boot, Conrad realised he was standing atop a frozen lake. The body of ice was massive, stretching across the entire diameter of the mountain’s peak. From this particular vantage point, Conrad was provided an almost uninterrupted 360-degree view of the Himalayan range around him, where only a scant few peaks rivalled the height of his own. The only obstruction was a peak that rose atop the far side of the lake like a giant white spike. The large white prong of mountain was barbed to resemble the jutting towers of a castle.
Testing the surface for its support and permission to tread upon it, Conrad walked towards the final, looming jag of mountain, the true pinnacle of the summit and final point of the earth’s conquest into the sky. The destination was also where the trail of blood led.
The sun had begun its descent into the western horizon to his left. So to his right, Conrad could feel the large expanse of the Chinese nation in the east, awaiting him in the darkness. Though from this view, both worlds were identical expanses of snow-covered hills. He knew that to maybe step off the eastern side of the mountain would be to begin a journey down into the safety of the Chinese kingdom, but still he was compelled to explore that last mysterious part of the mountain. He had to know what the path to the summit promised for someone intrepid enough to conquer it. With all the remnants of man being sucked into the spire, perhaps it was where he could find everything that was missing, the supposed trove of treasured opium the monster had conveniently gathered there for him to claim.
As he ventured towards the final mountain apex, the ice made odd creaks and groans from his weight. Some spots signalled ominous sounds, but the ice was never so disturbed to the point where he could feel it break.
When he looked back up at the white crown of the mountain, he saw the monster staring down at him. Its sudden appearance made Conrad wonder if it had always been standing there, its white hide camouflaging it in invisibility in the shadows of the background. Standing upright in a large cave opening, its hand clutched the side of the wall for support. Its casual attitude resembled a man leaning against his doorjamb while investigating a disturbance in his front yard.
Conrad froze with fear. He stupidly worked to convince himself that the thing had not seen him, but he knew better. Upon the vast plain of ice, he was highlighted as the only object on the lake. The beast peeled its lips apart to reveal rows of fangs. Conrad turned and dashed for safety as the creature simultaneously lunged forward.
With a few quick steps, the creature danced down the slope then pounced. When Conrad looked back over his shoulder, he saw the demon flying through the air. Though it was maybe hundreds of feet away, he couldn’t help but believe that it would swoop directly down onto him.
But when the monster plunged down onto the lake’s surface, the icy floor broke apart and engulfed the behemoth with a large splash. Conrad continued his frightened sprinting, but curiously watched the broken hole in the lake for the creature to re-emerge.
After several moments, the watery surface remained still, and Conrad slowed his escape.
With no signs of life from the beast, he could not believe he was so easily rid of the creature. Without any commotion, it would appear that the monster had drowned, caught beneath the ice to die miserably.
But Conrad’s scepticism was affirmed when he caught sight of a dark shadow moving under the ice towards him. With a few slow steps to permit a longer look at the fiendish sight, Conrad quickly sprinted away from the monster, who was indeed swimming beneath the ice like a fish.
When the thing sailed undern
eath and past him, Conrad tried vainly to stop his progress, but he slid forward on the slippery ice from the momentum.
The sharp claws of the monster’s hand broke through the ice. Conrad stumbled backwards and scooted away on his rear as the rest of the demon soon emerged. With its body sopping wet and long hair hanging limply down its back, the creature resembled a soggy corpse rising from the grave as it clawed itself up from the ground.
His scampering impeded by the ice and fright, Conrad knew there was no escape left. He would never be able to outrace the beast.
The white beast now rose to its full height to tower over him, its stature proudly erect when it stood on both legs. Its long shadow cast across the ground and engulfed Conrad when it eclipsed the sun.
Conrad released the pickaxe from his belt loop and tested its weight again in its hand.
With calm confidence, the monster advanced slowly while a long black tongue flickered from its devilish mouth.
Conrad bellowed fiercely and ran at the monster with the weapon reared back behind him ready to strike. Committing himself fully to this one desperate attack, he launched forward and brought the pickaxe overhead to hammer it into the creature’s skull. It was his one and only opportunity to slay the possibly invincible thing.
Clapping its hands together quickly, the monster caught Conrad mid-flight, keeping him raised in the air with its might. The sudden stop knocked both the weapon and his breath from him. He struggled only momentarily before he realised he was helplessly suspended above the ground in the monster’s grip.
Conrad expected swift death, but instead the monster watched him closely. Conrad looked deep into the monster’s dark eyes and strange double pupils.
“You scared, sissy?” Conrad sneered.
The monster’s sinister mouth smiled as if it knew what this puny thing’s words meant, enjoying the joke from this pitiful animal.