by Mike Miller
“What do we do?” murmured Baxter, musing more to himself than to his dumbstruck colleague.
Conrad still obliged with a simple and obvious answer. “We have to remove him.”
Jah’s convulsions became erratic, and his body began trembling violently. Baxter laid the boy down on the ground, then gripped the stuck arm in his hands. Pulling aside the robe’s sleeve with some minor ripping, both men could see that the dead frost had climbed up out of the monster and up the bleached blue arm of Jah.
“Don’t,” said Conrad, but Baxter had already moved to tug briskly at the arm. A soft crinkling like the embers of a campfire could barely be heard underneath the wretched scream from Jah. The two Brits froze in fright as if the howl would wake the slumbering Yeti. But the creature remained dead still.
Baxter dropped the arm, but hissed urgently, “We have to remove him.”
“Then cut him free,” responded Conrad.
“How?”
Looking everywhere about them in the sprawling cavern yielded nothing. Unlike some of the other hollows that were forged from a series of hanging and protruding spikes, the wide chamber was mostly smooth though contoured. There were no rocks or shapes remotely appropriate for this particular surgery. With the sun setting into a blood orange ball in the far off horizon, the entire area was lit to prove it had nothing to offer.
Baxter noticed pieces of the broken staff protruding in sharp spikes from the hull of the Yeti that could be of use. But removing any of these jags proved as difficult as separating the arm itself. Like Jah’s fastened limb, these rods seemed to be fused into the creature and bonded by the beast’s thick, frigid blood.
“Here,” Conrad said. He retrieved Baxter’s long rifle which lay by his side, and checked the barrel.
Baxter began to protest, but after a moment’s consideration, he didn’t. Noticing the stifled objection, Conrad volunteered the butt of the gun back to its owner. “No.” Baxter’s chapped lips firmed tight. “You do it.”
Conrad nodded in the affirmative though Baxter’s head had already turned away from the unbearable sight. Steadying the muzzle just inches from the boy’s entombed arm, Conrad noticed his aim was violently shivering, whether from the cold or the nerves. He pulled the gun away and exhaled deeply.
Realising the expected explosion had gone missing, Baxter opened his eyes and cautiously peered back at Conrad. “Well?”
Conrad quickly pointed the gun and pulled the trigger. The gunshot was piercing, deafening the ears into a ringing dumbness. A short spout of fire gave birth to a thick plume of hanging smoke that obscured the entire scene. “Pull,” commanded Conrad, taking the unconscious boy about the shoulders. Though Baxter was blind to the exact particulars of the operation, he clutched his meaty hands around the cold flesh of Jah’s slender arm and yanked. The arm had not severed, and a soft rustling like walking on gravel were prelude to a vicious crack. Suddenly the resistance ended, and Baxter toppled backwards onto his rear holding the grisly stump of an arm severed just below the elbow.
The wound was neatly cauterised into a dark black nub. Gritty black viscera dotted the end like a dabbling of decorative gunpowder. The fresh wound was moist with black blood, and Baxter removed his outermost coat to wrap around the trauma. Bandaging the stump quickly, the trio were fortunate that Jah had passed into unconsciousness during the entire ordeal to be spared his suffering. The fact that his chest still wheezed with life was a significant victory that warmed Baxter’s drained heart.
“Uh, Baxter?” said Conrad softly, hesitantly.
Still nursing Jah, Baxter turned his attention to Conrad, who was bright with fright. His hand trembled as it pointed at a spot just behind Baxter’s shoulder.
With grim expectations, Baxter slowly twisted his neck to look at the head of the Yeti. Its left eye was now and staring directly at him. The monster remained motionless, its strange double pupil still glassy. Baxter began to wonder if perhaps his friend hadn’t become mad and paranoid, since the dead creature had lain with eyes open throughout their time.
Then it blinked.
Conrad was already retreating backwards when Baxter joined him at his side. The two were too petrified to flee, nor could they withstand the proximity either. They were transfixed in a limbo of both space and action. The incapacitated Jah still laid asleep besides the mammoth monster, oblivious to any danger. The Yeti did not move either, though its eyes lazily blinked again.
“Let us run,” encouraged Conrad, placing a hand on his compatriot’s triceps to urge him along on the escape. “Don’t be foolish.”
“No.” Baxter remained fixed to the ground. “This is the time. We must end it.”
Conrad wanted to stamp on the ground in frustration, but he caught his angry heel before it further disturbed the monster. “How? Thrash it with our bare hands?”
“I don’t know, but we can take it while it is weak,” mused Baxter. “We suffocate it maybe.” His eyes flicked about the room for murderous inspiration.
“The boy stuck his bloody arm into that thing’s heart, and that didn’t stop its breath. How are we supposed to kill it without any weapons?” Conrad kept glancing between Baxter and beast, afraid the beast might fully awake any moment.
“We shoot it,” Baxter said. “Again, a lot.”
Conrad scoffed, “I’ve seen a battalion of bullets bounce off that thing. You would only make it angry.”
“The ledge,” whispered a voice that was not theirs. They saw that Jah had regained consciousness. The boy feebly jerked his head and eyes to the side, and the two soldiers arrested their attention upon the wide mouth of the cavern that yawned into the open sky.
Both dashed over to its edge, then scampered to a stop when they realised the infinite steepness it suddenly revealed. Their boots shuffled on the rough ice as they saw the mountainside vanish into deep mists a hundred feet below the steep incline.
Baxter and Conrad exchanged a glance to confirm each other’s enthusiasm for the plan.
They raced back to the downed monster and stood behind it for a moment to strategise the logistics. Then they both stooped over and sunk arms into the Yeti’s woolly hind. With a mighty heave, they dropped their shoulders into their load. After a moment, the creature’s large mass finally budged and began to slide across the ground.
Their feet stumbled and slipped, but with a tireless effort, they slowly shoved the Yeti towards the cave’s ledge a few dozen feet away. The thing’s hulking weight was akin to a pair of dead horses.
After much duress and strain, they had barely transported the monster a few feet. Short of breath and muscles weak, they still had far to go.
“The head,” said Baxter.
Conrad was not clear on the bewildering suggestion. “Are you certain?” he asked.
“Do it,” commanded Baxter.
Conrad faithfully bounded around to the other side of the monster. He hooked his hands around one of the beast’s wide horns and yanked. The monster’s vile mask turned to face Conrad, its eyes still open but distant. Averting his eyes from the maddeningly close portrait of death, Conrad began to pull at the monster’s head. The cargo made significant progress in its rate with the added leverage and guidance from Conrad to navigate the journey.
Steadily the two moved the immobile Yeti along the ground towards the cliff. Jah watched weakly but with rapt hope.
The two men would have succumbed to fatigue if they were not so encouraged by their progress. Their new method was superior to the last, and the ground mercifully became easier to navigate as rough rock became smooth ice. Each man also felt reinvigorated to see the other flash a smile while they laboured to destroy the monster.
A small bleat disturbed them both. Though Baxter could not see any change, he could see Conrad’s face was now afraid, for only he was afforded a view of the creature’s mouth now stretching open, its tongue lolling within its jagged teeth.
“What is it?” asked Baxter.
Conrad grunted, and en
couragingly insisted, “Push, push, push!”
Trusting his friend’s simple advice, Baxter redoubled his efforts with what little reservoir of energy he had unspent yet to move this mountain.
In their feverish excitement, Conrad realised that they were now precipitously close to the edge, with only a few final feet to spare. If Conrad were to let go, he would surely stumble over the side.
Conrad considered stepping aside to avoid risking the plunge. But after a flash of thought, he calmly decided to stay the course.
The creature murmured again, now with a louder but still disoriented noise. The monster’s arm lifted from the ground and groped drunkenly the air. “Push, damn it!” demanded Conrad, roaring wildly so that spittle of encouragement splattered into his beard.
Upon hearing the cry, Baxter leaned his full power into the beast’s hind. With pumping legs, he sent the monster to topple over the edge.
The Yeti’s head drooped over the side towards oblivion, and Conrad tumbled with it. Still gripped tightly around the monster’s horn, the old soldier now dangled freely over the abyss as he tugged the monster to join him.
“Conrad!” cried Baxter in alarm when he realised what had happened.
“Push!” screamed Conrad, as he dug his feet into the cliff wall to drag the monster down with him.
But Baxter quit work upon his end, and moved forward to lean over the side and help Conrad back. “Stop, you maniac,” Baxter said, now down on his stomach to offer his hand in rescue.
Conrad continued to pull, and Baxter noticed now that the creature was indeed stirring. Though its head and right shoulder hung off the ledge, the monster contorted its head as if it were stretching after an afternoon nap. Its neck now possessed enough power to shift Conrad too as he clung to its horn for support.
“Go!” hissed Conrad, stretching out to arch his back, forcing the Yeti to slide another few inches over the side.
Baxter clamped his arm over the thick hair of the beast’s shaggy bicep, restraining the thing from moving any further.
“No!” Baxter thrust his hand out again in an immutable offer.
Conrad looked up at the Yeti’s eyes which began to shine with alertness. “Let us go, damn you!” grimaced Conrad straining to drag the monster into space.
“No!” Baxter repeated, holding the Yeti with one hand and hoping to hold Conrad with the other. His fingers fluttered in the air in vain attempts to get closer to Conrad.
Conrad recognised the resolute determination in his Baxter’s face. He knew his friend would rather do right and die, then do wrong and live.
“Damn you,” Conrad cursed, and he hopped his grip over to Baxter’s hand.
When releasing his hold upon the monster’s horn, Conrad flailed to secure his off hand against the rocky cliff. Baxter fought to secure himself too against the slippery ice, but remained determined not to release his friend. Luckily the Yeti’s woolly arm proved an adept anchor to brace the two from falling.
Finally, Conrad’s querying fingers found purchase in the stone, and his feet quickly followed as they stumbled into supporting cracks along the ledge. The two tried to ignore the Yeti whose mouth slowly snapped open and close as if rehearsing a meal.
Escaping the pull of gravity, Conrad stumbled down upon Baxter. Face to face with each other for an awkward second, they both scrambled apart to conclude the battle.
The monster raised its head and bellowed furiously, just as Conrad and Baxter collided into the monster’s hind with full force. When the Yeti’s rear slid over the corner, its entire body followed behind to topple down the cliff. Its tail rapidly slithered across the ice like a fleeing serpent.
But the creature was aware enough to slam its hand into the ice to stop the fall. The rest of the monster swung freely, but its claws dug deep into the stone to brace itself securely. The Yeti snarled defiantly as it stared up at the men.
Dropping to his knees, Baxter quickly hammered at the Yeti’s fingers with both fists. Conrad hopped upon the hand but tripped aside as he landed. The Yeti howled at the attacks, but still kept one finger secured in the rock as it reached with the other.
Baxter sank his own teeth into the beast’s finger and bit hard. The skin was leathery and tasted of dirt, but Baxter’s fangs broke the Yeti’s skin. A sickly taste stung his tongue.
The monster whined sharply when it released its grasp.
The two men scampered to the cliff quickly to watch the beast tumbling down the white snowy rock of the mountain. Thrashing its hands and claws out at the steep surface, its talons scraped away chunks of debris, but could not find any purchase. As its eyes widened with fright, the Yeti unleashed a piercing howl at a high pitch that pled for mercy. Its monstrous roar faded as the beast was lost from sight, vanishing silently into the thick, grey clouds below the mountain.
Baxter and Conrad watched the mists expecting the indestructible beast to reappear any moment, wilder and angrier than ever. But after a minute of patient waiting, the Yeti never emerged.
The two friends looked at one another and laughed heartily. They clapped each other on the shoulder in congratulations, then soon found themselves hugging in a full embrace. Laughing together, they toppled woozily as their jubilant squeezing threatened to squash themselves together.
A sickly cough diverted their attention and ended the celebration.
The soldiers noticed that Jah remained lying on the ground, nursing his severed arm. A large pool of his blood was freezing upon the cave floor. “Good job,” he wheezed.
Chapter LI
The Escape from the Lair
“Not good,” murmured Baxter.
“Well, obviously!” scoffed Conrad.
The two were examining Jah’s beaten body, not the least of which was his amputated left arm. The boy was drifting in and out of consciousness throughout their ramshackle inspection, sometimes completely aware and discussing their prognosis, sometime deliriously conversing with some unknown entity not present between the three men.
The two soldiers continued staring at the wounds as if their intent concentration would somehow heal the boy’s cuts and scars. Despite their familiarity with a variety of wartime ailments and injuries, neither man felt confident in ascribing the correct solution.
“He needs to rest,” Baxter cautiously said in his assessment.
“Yes,” concurred Conrad. “But not too much, or he’ll die.”
“Food, warmth.” Baxter continued. “We need to leave. Immediately.”
“Yes,” Conrad said with the struck enthusiasm that accompanies an undeniably correct realisation. “So do you mean now, or after we plunder all the loot?”
Baxter scoffed haughtily in disbelief. “Plunder and loot? What fantastic dream do you inhabit?”
“You saw everything too,” replied Conrad firmly. “Don’t deny it. This monster was a collector. It hoarded men to feast upon later, and it stole everything else too.”
“And what for?” said Baxter.
“Who bloody cares?” said Conrad. “If you want my expert zoological hypothesis, it would be that the bastard couldn’t stand anything anywhere on its mountain. Like it had to smite and possess everything that dare trespass on its world. This Yeti has assembled a veritable horde in there, one of which we have to take full advantage. Why, you saw the mountains of booty that thing had gathered. We can’t just leave it all.”
Baxter nodded a denial while redressing Jah’s arm. “There were broken carts, coats. It’s rubbish, nothing of value.”
“Most of it, sure, but all of it? Why, if we take our time to properly examine everything, I guarantee you somewhere in there is our treasure, the Trading Company’s cargo,” said Conrad with gushing zealotry. “And if we’re lucky, more than one. Treasures.” He purred the final “S” seductively.
“No.” Baxter was unmoved. “We’ve got to move Jah down the mountain. Escape this cursed place, and nurse him to recovery.”
“Blast it, Baxter, we can do both!”
A raspy bout of coughing silenced them. While Jah’s svelte body shook from coughing, his eyes were awake and conscious. Baxter cupped a head under the boy’s head for support. “I’ll be…” Jah sputtered. Then more coughing racked him as a small splatter of blood popped from the side of his mouth. “I’m fine.”
“I know,” said Baxter. “We’ll take care of you. Right, Conrad?”
But Conrad had already begun rushing off into the catacombs of the lair. “Absolutely,” he said, his response arriving as a hollow echo.
Though Baxter was frustrated, possibly becoming irate, a meek appeal diverted his wrath. “Please,” said Jah as he strained to rise.
Baxter eased the boy upwards. The boy stifled a long groan as he tried not to demonstrate any suffering.
At Jah’s further insistence, Baxter hoisted the wounded warrior all the way to his feet. With shuffling, stumbling steps, the two men walked together in Conrad’s wake. Jah’s arm lay draped over Baxter’s wide shoulders, who hugged the boy tightly around the hips. Their pace was slow but steady, even if Jah’s legs buckled every few paces. Baxter thought to offer to carry him which would be far more rapid. But then he knew the suggestion would only wound the boy’s still defiant pride.
“I almost killed it,” the boy said, so softly that it took a moment for the sentence to register with Baxter.
“Almost?” Baxter laughed. “Why, I’d say that thing got the short end of the stick in whatever happened between you two.”
“No,” said Jah with reluctant happiness at the compliment. He sighed the word in a long and final note that signed the conclusion of the talk.
But Baxter spoke. “What happened there?”
Jah remained silent and unresponsive as if he weren’t going to answer the inquiry. Then he said, “It tried to bite me in half. I tried to rip its heart out.” The two shuffled into a darker corridor away from the sunset-lit chamber where the final confrontation had occurred. “Neither of us was very successful,” Jah finally concluded.
It looked like the boy was smiling, and Baxter did not want to dispel that magic. Baxter smiled too.