Kiss the Sky

by MK Schiller

  “Don’t hate me.”

  “Never. It’s impossible to do.” He held her closer. “Sometimes, I think this is all a dream and we’re still stuck inside that Specter of Brocken. I’m happy we had that day. I was closer to heaven on that day than the day we summited. I will never regret you, Farah Nawas. Not for one second. But let’s be honest. There’s no room in the fig tree for both of us after all.”

  Chapter 25

  Tristan had pleaded with all the gods he knew to prolong their days and postpone their good-bye. But the inevitable always happened. The day had come without his permission and despite all his objections. She came to the hospital with him to visit Malcolm. He would catch a flight back to Islamabad and spend a few days with Elliot before heading back to the States.

  Malcolm was in good spirits. He sat in a wheel chair and prattled on about the recuperation program they were putting him through. Farah and Tristan smiled and nodded, but neither was very talkative.

  The snow globe Malcolm purchased for his niece sat on the counter along with the scarf and a chessboard. Tristan stared at the snowflakes as they fell against the mountain in the background. There were pink stones in the foreground.

  Tristan looked through Malcolm’s paperbacks to keep his hands busy. He had a Max Montero novel and a few classics. He had to keep the urge to take Farah into his arms and beg her to come with him at bay. This was difficult enough for both of them. “You’re a fan of Poe?” he asked Malcolm, holding up the small book.

  “Not all of Poe, but I like that one. ‘The Purloined Letter.’ Have you read it?”

  “A long time ago. If I remember, it has something to do with a letter, as the name suggests. A hidden object, right?”

  “Yeah, all these detectives searched and came up empty, except it was hidden in plain sight the whole time. Pretty ingenious.”

  “Yeah.”

  Malcolm banged on his table. “Nurse. Take away my plate.”

  The nurse came over, shooting him a look that could laser through ice. She took his plate and walked away without a word. “Thanks, honey,” Malcolm yelled after her.

  “Did you leave your manners on the mountain?” Tristan asked.

  “They don’t understand the language anyway. Besides, the nurses here think I’m a loud-mouthed prick.”

  “It’s not just the nurses,” Farah muttered.

  “Want to play a game?” Malcolm asked, setting up the chessboard. “No hustle this time. I’ve been practicing. I’m sure I’ll beat you.”

  Tristan laughed, but it sounded hollow. “Not with the Queen’s Gambit.”

  He glanced at Farah who sat on the metal chair, her expression stoic as she looked at Malcolm. Her fist was closed. Tristan wagered the pebble was inside. His was inside the pocket of his jeans.

  He’d made love to her this morning. Scratch that, he’d fucked her. Hard. Until they both lay on the bed exhausted and spent. He’d loved every inch of her with every inch of him. He knew it would be the last time.

  Malcolm cleared his throat as if to remind them he was still there.

  “Sorry,” Tristan said. “I have to get to the airport. I’m flying back to Islamabad today.”

  “You opted not to take the bus this time, huh?” he asked.

  “I don’t think I could handle another bus ride on the Karakorum Highway.” He spoke to Malcolm, but he could not take his eyes off her.

  “What’s wrong with you two?” Malcolm asked, looking from one to the other.

  “Nothing,” Tristan said. “You sure you don’t want me to stick around for a few more days? At least until they get you moved to Islamabad?”

  Malcolm shook his head. “I’m fine.”

  “Do you need money?”

  Malcolm laughed so loud a nurse frowned in their direction. “What are you? My father? No, I got plenty. Medical is at bargain basement prices on this side of the world anyway.”

  “I’m really sorry about Edelweiss. I know you were close.”

  Malcolm gave him a smug smile. “Look Sinclair, you’re okay, but let’s not pretend we’re gonna twine friendship bracelets for each other. We climbed a mountain. Sometimes that bonds people in the short-term. But I’m not looking to bond.”

  Farah stood, the metal of her chair scraping the floor. “You’re a real asshole. Do you know what this man went through so you can sit in that bed right now?”

  God, he loved her. She looked so angry she might just throttle Malcolm.

  “Would have been nice if he could have been heroic enough to save my foot at the same time.”

  Tristan stepped between them. He gazed at the girl who owned his heart. He didn’t want to taint their good-bye. “Don’t waste your breath.” He took her hand. “Come and walk with me one last time.”

  Tristan threw his duffle bag over his shoulder and placed his other arm around her. “See you around, Malcolm,” he said, without even facing the man. They made their way down the long corridor.

  “He had no gratitude.”

  “Don’t give him any more thought, sweetheart. I don’t want him messing with any part of this good-bye. It’s hard enough as it is. Walk me out?”

  She shook her head. “I have to go back in there.”

  “Farah, just leave it alone. He’ll only sour everything.”

  “Not him. I left my bag in there.”

  “Oh.”

  “Besides, my heart can only break so much. I don’t know if it will mend. Remind me again what we’re doing?”

  “Will you come with me?” he asked. The smallest shred of hope sprouted inside of him.

  “I’ve carved out a life for me. I have things to do here. Students to teach. Young girls to help.”

  “So there we have it.”

  “Tristan…”

  He knew it wasn’t proper, but he held her inside the crowded hospital. “Shhh.”

  “Should we write?” she asked.

  “What do you think?”

  She thought about it for a second. A tear rolled down her cheek. She swiped at it. “No. No writing. No phone calls. No visits. Like the Goddess of the Mountain, I’m jealous too. I want you to be happy, Tristan. I’ll pray for it every night. But I cannot bear to hear about you falling in love with someone else. It will kill me.”

  As if she had to worry about that. “It’s not possible for me either. I can’t keep in touch with you and not touch all of you.” He shook his head. “If you’re going to be in my life, I need to claim every inch of you as mine, milady.”

  He kissed the back of her wrist. He would have done more, but they were in public, and such displays were frowned upon. As it was, they were already getting dirty looks.

  “Wait,” she said. “Why do you call me ‘milady’? What’s the real reason?”

  “I thought you would have figured it out by now.”

  She put her hand on his shoulder. “Tell me.”

  “Because it sounds an awful lot like my lady.” He hadn’t even realized it himself until recently. “Au revoir.”

  She flashed him a sad smile. “You do know French, Quebec.”

  He pinched his thumb and index fingers together before turning around and heading down the corridor. He opened the door to the bright sunlight, thinking that his heart breaking sounded an awful lot like a fracture in the ice.

  That would have been it.

  If not for the pop sound.

  Then his heart went still.

  Chapter 26

  Adrenaline took over. Everyone was pushing and cramming to get out of the hospital. Tristan was going the other way, driving against the crowd to get back in. People were screaming, shouting, and running. He shoved them out of the way, pushing against the crowd at a full sprint, calling her name.

  Then she was right in front of him. He let out a breath. She was okay.

&nbs
p; “Tristan,” she said.

  He held his fingers to her lips and looked around. Where the hell was the shooter? Tristan saw the man first. He wore a black mask and came from Malcolm’s room. He was taller than all the people rushing in every direction. He pointed the gun into the air and cocked it. Tristan pushed Farah to the ground and covered her.

  “What’s happening?”

  “We need to take cover.”

  The bullets fired in succession now. He heard them, over their heads, getting closer. She shook underneath him. He slid them against the stone floor until they made it inside a small room. He closed the door. He knocked into some brooms and mops when he stood. The room contained long metal shelves. It was crowded and hardly big enough for the two of them.

  He surveyed the area. A square of light filtered out of the dusty shelves. He moved them, wincing at the creaking sound as they slid against the concrete floor. As he suspected, there was a small window. He looked at Farah and jerked his head toward it. “You can climb up the shelves and through that window.” He bent down and interlaced his hands. “Step up.”

  “What?”

  “You can do it.”

  “I’ve climbed the tallest mountains in the world. Of course, I can do it.”

  “Then what’s the problem?”

  “You won’t fit through there.”

  “I know.”

  She shook her head. He cupped his hand over her mouth. “Don’t be stupid.”

  She shoved his hand away. “You’re not cutting the rope again. I won’t let you.”

  “This is not the time for arguments.”

  “I’m not leaving you.”

  The shots range faster now. Pow, pow, pow.

  He clasped her arms. “You need to listen to me. Either way, if I have to, I’m going to shove your ass out that window, but you’ll have a better chance of not landing on your hard head and cracking it open if you go willingly.”

  Her nod was so slight he wasn’t sure if he’d imagined it. Either way, she placed her foot inside his palm this time. She used the metal shelves to lift her higher. Her step was light enough so they didn’t groan or move too much. She grunted as she tried to pry the window open.

  Shit, it wasn’t going to open.

  Pop, pop, pop, pop.

  “Break it if you have to.”

  She gave it one last shove and almost fell out as it gave way.

  “How far is the drop?” he asked.

  “Too far to jump.”

  “Do you have a foothold on the other side?”

  “I think so.” She led with her foot and dropped down the other side of the building. “Tristan, don’t die or…”

  “Or what?”

  “Or I might just kill you.”

  He smiled in spite of himself. “Get out.”

  Pow, pow, pow.

  He heard her feet hit the ground. She was safe.

  “Tristan, there’s another window. It’s larger, about fifteen meters down. It’s probably two or three rooms away from you. Can you make it?”

  “Okay. Farah, you have to run away from here and get shelter.”

  “Promise me you’ll make it.”

  “I promise.”

  He heard the shooter kicking open doors. If he was going to survive, he needed to get out of the room fast. He leaned against the wall, keeping low. He went past three rooms, opening each door. On the third, he found the window, but it wouldn’t open. He pried it with his hands.

  Pow, pow, pow, the bullets rushed.

  He smashed it with his elbow. He was perching on the ledge just as the door kicked open. He came face to face with a man in a crude mask made of black ribbons that covered his face except for his eyes. They widened. He pointed his gun at Tristan’s chest. He didn’t shoot though. He looked around the room, almost in a panic.

  That’s when Tristan jumped.

  Chapter 27

  The police questioned them for hours. Tristan reiterated he knew nothing. They told him Malcolm had been shot. Despite all the bullets, he was the only fatality. It was the greatest of ironies. The man survived K2 only to face a bullet in the back of the head. Public displays of emotion were frowned on. Farah kept her distance from him, but he found her eyes searching for his often. All he wanted to do was hold her. It was torture not being able to.

  Who the fuck was he kidding? How could he even think of leaving her?

  Tristan wanted to talk to her, but that was damn near impossible. He didn’t trust anyone else with this information.

  They separated them for questioning. He asked if he could see her and be in the room with her. Each time, he was told to stay put and they would check. Farah and Tristan had been questioned extensively after K2. There were always questions when there were deaths. Now, they were being questioned even more intensely. The police inspector asked him about every member of the team and their backgrounds. Why would someone want to kill Malcolm or shoot up a hospital?

  Three hours passed. Three of the longest, most miserable hours of his life. He experienced a raw panic so sharp it could have punctured him. At least on the mountain, he knew the risks and possibilities. Here, he was working blind and the woman he loved was in danger. They still asked him question after question. They asked him to explain the sequence of events. How well he knew Malcolm. By the time it was done, his throat had run dry and the panic was drowning him.

  “I’ve already told you what I know. Let me see her.”

  “What is your relationship with her?”

  God, how to answer that? She was his ground and sky. “She is my climbing partner,” he said through gritted teeth. “I need to see her.”

  “The request is not possible,” the inspector, a thin wiry man, said.

  “Let me make a phone call then.”

  “Not possible.”

  It wasn’t until his third request, he was allowed. He closed his eyes as the phone rang. Please pick up.

  “Hello Tristan, I’m leaving for the airport to pick you up now.”

  “I’m not on the flight, Elliot.”

  He’d spoken to Elliot the day they had gotten back and told him what happened on the mountain. Elliot had made Tristan’s flight reservation. “We had a deal, Tristan.”

  “Listen to me. Something went wrong.”

  Tristan explained the details around the shooting, at least, what little he knew.

  “Don’t tell them a damn thing. I’ll take care of this,” Elliot said.

  Apparently, Elliot had a great deal of influence. One phone call from him, and the officers changed their tune.

  “I’m sorry, sir,” the officer in charge said. “You and the girl are free to go.”

  The officer looked at Farah and back at Tristan. Although his voice was relaxed, he did not hide his disapproval.

  “Any news on the shooter?” Tristan asked.

  “No, sir. We’re ruling it as a random shooting. Possibly an act of terrorism. It’s a tragic but not uncommon event here. At least security shot the man before he could kill anyone else.”

  The statement didn’t sit right with Tristan. There were a lot of people in the hallway, and the man shot his gun off several times. Yet, the only person dead was Malcolm…execution style.

  “Will you get word to us if any information becomes available?”

  “Consider it done, sir.”

  He doubted the man was sincere. Tristan held his hand toward the exit of the station, gesturing Farah to go first.

  “Sir.”

  “Yes,” Tristan said, turning around.

  “I’m sorry for your loss. This belonged to your friend. All his possessions are in here.” He held up Malcolm’s battered climbing pack. “From his information”—the detective held up the pack and read the label—“he resided in Albany, New York. We were going to ship t
his to his family, but since you live in the US, it may get to them faster if you shipped it once you arrive.”

  Shit, Malcolm’s family.

  Ahmed’s family.

  Edelweiss.

  Bjorn and Lino.

  He hadn’t thought of those things. As a guide, if any member of his tour died, he’d be making the phone calls to the next of kin. Thank God, it had never happened. He had no doubt Rana followed the same protocols, but the man hadn’t survived either. He was sure the government offices contacted the families to inform them of the tragedy. It seemed such a cold way to find out about the loss of a loved one. Naturally, they would have questions. He and Farah were the only witnesses to what had happened up there. Although he wasn’t 100 percent sure himself, they deserved to at least hear what happened from him.

  “You’re aware we were with the climbing expedition.”

  “Yes, on K2.”

  “Do you happen to have the emergency contacts for the next of kin?”

  “Sir, that information would be held at the expedition’s office in Islamabad. I’m sure they have a copy as long as you have the right permissions.”

  “Thank you.”

  The man not only let them go, but he hailed them a cab to the airport. Once inside the cab, Tristan put his arms around her. They clung to each other. If the cab driver was offended by their actions, he didn’t say anything.

  “You’re all right?” Tristan asked, inspecting her closely.

  “Yes, you?” She touched his chest and arms and face.

  He took her wrist and kissed the back of it. “I’m fine.”

  “What happened? Do you think Malcolm was involved in something?”

  “Not sure. What do you know about him? You met him before I did.”

  “Ahmed said Malcolm and Edelweiss approached him for this climb. They had been planning it almost a year out. Lino and Bjorn were already signed up. I was the last to join, and just a few months ago. I wasn’t sure if this was my year to go. Because we all lived in different areas of the world, Ahmed created an e-mail loop. We talked about equipment and experience levels. There wasn’t much in the way of personal information.”