“Vegas is going to have you and Lens on the safety rope from this side. I’m sure he’s OK, but let Lens go first and just check the knots before he steps out.”
“You’re not inspiring me with confidence here,” said Sam. “I don’t know what I’m doing either ...”
“All you’ve got to do is check that the knot is solid. Everything else is already set up. I took him on a course before we left Canada and he’s got the basics, he’ll be fine.”
Sam looked at Pete for a moment. She rolled her eyes. “Sweet mother of –”
“He’ll be fine. He’s stronger than the average ox. He’ll pull you back up that drop on his own if he has to.”
Forty-five minutes later and Sam took the final step off the ice, to stand beside Pete on the rock he had chosen as his base. She was breathing hard in the thin, cold air, and as she took one last look at the sphincter-puckering drop below, she said, “Glad I don’t have to do that again for a few days.”
“Vegas did all right though, huh?” said Pete.
She nodded a reluctant assent.
“Now peel those crampons off and we’ll swing them back over for Vegas,” said Pete, already tugging at her harness straps.
“I can manage,” retorted Sam, tapping his hand away. “What’s the hurry?”
Pete stepped back and dug his hands into his jacket pockets. “Oh, just busting to see the mountain, I suppose.”
Sam smiled. “I guess you’ve been waiting for that for a long while.”
Pete nodded. “Once you get the gear off, head up after Lens, he wanted to regroup on the top of the slab of rock.”
It was a slow, hard slog upwards. Sam worked at keeping her rhythm, locking the downhill leg and pausing before she stepped up. Pete had suggested the technique and, while it was slow, she could maintain her pace without stopping. She kept at it and eventually came up to Lens, resting with his pack off. They exchanged weary looks but no words, and Sam plodded on past. An hour and a half later, she was a few short paces from the top of the rock slab, with Pete and Vegas close behind her and Lens bringing up the rear again. As she came level with the rock platform, her eyes widened. She stopped dead. Staring back at her was a man. He was sitting, face mostly shadowed by a wide-brimmed felt hat, just a wispy beard visible. He stood and made a short bow, as though he had been expecting them. He was tall and powerfully built. A long-sleeved black coat was pulled off one shoulder and arm, revealing a thick sheepskin lining. Unnerving, colorless, blank eyes settled on her face as he spoke in a language that she had never heard before. He indicated a second man at his feet, wrapped in a similar dirty, black sheepskin coat.
She scrambled up onto the platform and dropped her pack off. She knelt beside the man on the ground and pulled back the coarse cloth covering his head. The smell of long, hard days on the road drifted up to her, mixed with something rancid. She looked straight into frightened brown eyes. His breathing was fast and shallow; there were bubbles of pink frothy blood on his lips. Then he murmured something that she didn’t expect to understand. But there was something about the sounds, and the way his lips moved. She leaned closer.
“Help me ...” he murmured through bloody spittle.
She stared in astonishment, but there was no doubting it. She looked up. “He speaks English,” she said, almost accusingly.
The other man’s pale eyes momentarily ducked down towards his sick companion.
“If you can tell us what you know,” she said, “like when this started, how long he’s been bringing up the blood – it will help us to help him.”
He just gazed back at her.
She stood and crossed the few feet to the edge of the platform. Pete was only twenty yards away. “Pete, get up here, there’s a sick man,” she called out.
Pete stopped in his tracks and looked up. “Man ... what man?”
“Just get up here,” she insisted. Pete dropped his backpack and hurried up towards her without another word. When she turned back, the man was kneeling by his companion. After a few moments, he looked up at her.
“The blood is recent,” he said, with an American accent. “I only checked him a short while ago.”
She stared at him. Then Pete appeared beside her.
“I am Jortse, this is Tashi, we are refugees, trying to escape Shibde,” announced the pale-eyed man, as a long, racking cough shook his companion.
“Bloody hell,” said Pete.
“We have to help them,” she said.
Pete nodded, already moving to Tashi’s side. He took one look and turned to Jortse. “When did this start?”
“I think the blood only just started.”
“And the breathlessness?”
“Last night, the other side of this hill.” He pointed upwards. “He was tired. We tried to make it over and down to the valley, but we were too slow. This is as far as we got, and this morning he wouldn’t move. I can’t move him.”
“It’s altitude sickness, I’m sure of it, but he’ll be fine if we can get him down to a low enough height. Does he speak English too?”
“Yes.”
Pete turned back to Tashi. “We have to get you down the mountain, or you will die up here. Do you understand?”
There was a bare nod of the head, more coughing. Sam glanced around her – a second bedroll was laid out; a couple of rough canvas bags; one long, thin felt bag and another black, wide-brimmed hat. “Maybe we could make some sort of a stretcher out of the bedrolls?” she said.
Tashi tried to sit up.
“Help me,” called Pete, getting under one arm.
“What the hell is going on?” Everybody turned – it was Vegas.
“Give me a hand here, Vegas, we have to get this man down to the valley floor,” said Pete.
“What’s wrong with him?” demanded Vegas.
“Altitude sickness, looks like pulmonary edema. If we can get him down far enough he should be fine.”
Vegas looked upwards, gesticulated, shook his head and then managed to reply. “We’re nearly there ... Powder Burn, bro. The weather could break anytime.”
“I don’t want to walk past a dead man on the way home,” said Pete. “We’re not going to turn this into a scene from Mount Everest.”
Vegas glanced around, took in Jortse. “Why can’t his buddy carry him down?”
Sam opened her mouth, but Pete was quick to interrupt. “If you got hold of the other arm, you’d see,” he grunted, struggling to keep Tashi on his knees.
She moved forward, realizing that Pete was probably right; she might as well save her breath, she wasn’t going to help persuade Vegas to do anything. “Jortse, pack your gear, please, and see how you go dragging our backpacks down as well. Otherwise we’ll have to do it in relays,” she said, taking Tashi’s other arm across her shoulders. She looked at Pete. “Ready?”
“Ready.” And together they lifted Tashi to his feet and walked the handful of steps to the edge of the platform. “Good job it’s this one that’s sick, he’s six inches shorter and must be half the weight,” muttered Pete.
“You ain’t gonna get far, and how the hell are you going to cross the ice cliff with that sack of potatoes,” said Vegas, stepping out of their way.
“That’s why we need your help to save his life, Vegas,” she said, unable to keep her mouth shut.
Vegas stared at her.
“It’s the only thing we can do, Vegas,” added Pete. “We can’t leave them to die on this ledge.”
Vegas hesitated a moment longer, then he sighed and pushed Sam aside to duck under Tashi’s arm to lift him. “OK, let’s get this done so we can get back up here,” he muttered.
The three of them stumbled off the rock platform and onto the downhill slope. Vegas was taking most of the weight and still carrying his own pack. Jortse gathered up his and Tashi’s gear, and Sam carried her pack and then half carried, half dragged Pete’s once she got down to it. After a couple of minutes of this they met Lens coming the other way. The cameraman was
so locked into his own private world of pain that he didn’t see them until Pete dislodged a rock, which rolled to a stop at Lens’s feet, announcing their arrival.
Lens looked up and found his teammates and the two exotically dressed strangers only fifteen yards above him. “What the hell?” he said.
“That’s what I said, Lens,” muttered Vegas.
Briefly, Sam explained what was happening while the others gently eased Tashi to the ground.
Lens sank onto his knees, wincing as he came down on a rock. He stared at them for a while. “Maybe I’ll just wait here,” he said, finally.
“No you goddamn won’t,” said Vegas, flicking his backpack off. “You’ll get up and bring my gear with you.” And then he and Pete hoisted Tashi to his feet once more, and the threesome staggered off.
Lens watched them go, with Jortse in close attendance behind. “A Shibdeese with altitude sickness?” he said to Sam.
“I suppose it is a bit odd. They both speak English too,” she replied.
“Really?” said Lens. “So someone has been crossing Shibde’s borders – maybe we’re finally going to learn a bit more about what goes on in this place.”
Vegas, Pete and Jortse took it in turns to support the stricken Tashi, while Sam and Lens dragged the extra packs down the hill behind them. It was brutal work, but by midday they were back at the ice cliff. “OK,” said Pete, still standing, people and gear strewn around him. “We’re going to have to do this a little differently. I’ll lead the way across again, set the fixed safety line. Then I’ll send back the harness and gear. Lens, you come over next, bring the second rope but leave the harness behind – I’ll show you how to rig up a temporary version with the spare slings and karabiners.”
Lens nodded, and leaned back onto his elbows.
“Then we’ll hook Tashi onto the fixed line wearing the real harness,” continued Pete, “and Vegas can bring him over.” He turned to the American. “Vegas, if you attach the second rope to Tashi, then Lens and I can pull from the other side to help.”
Vegas remained staring out across the valley, arms folded around his knees.
“Once we’ve got him across, I’ll come back with the harness and second rope, and then Sam, Jortse and I will go over one at a time as we did before,” Pete finished up.
“Is that complicated enough for everyone?” said Lens.
“Anybody got a better idea?” asked Pete. Only Tashi’s rough and rapid breathing broke the valley’s silence. “So let’s do it.” Pete glanced up; the cloud had broken a little, and there was the odd patch of blue now. “Cheer up, guys, at least the weather’s OK; normally this kind of retreat is done in pissing rain or snow and ten-yard visibility.”
Sam watched as they descended the final few feet onto the valley floor; she clicked off a few frames with her camera, and then started to pour the soup into mugs. The sun had just set behind the cloud and mountains to the west, and a frightening chill had come down with it. Vegas and Pete carried the now almost helpless Tashi to the flat spot that Jortse had chosen, and gently lowered him onto the bedroll. Then they sank to their knees, breathing heavily, exhaustion beyond measure in every movement.
“Thank you, you have done a good thing today,” said Jortse, throwing an oiled wool blanket over Tashi.
“Let’s just hope that it’s enough height change to do the trick,” said Pete.
“We’ve got the tents up and all the gear inside. You can rest,” said Sam, as she handed out the mugs, taking a worried extra glance at Pete – she could hear the strain in his voice. She sat beside him as Lens joined them, squatting at Tashi’s feet. They all ate, watching Jortse trying to get some soup inside his friend.
“How is he?” she said, eventually.
“No change – so I guess he’s stopped getting worse,” said Pete.
“So we have to see how he is in the morning, but if he doesn’t show some kind of improvement, we’ll have to try to get him lower,” she replied.
“You’re shittin’ me, girl,” said Vegas.
“We can’t just leave him here,” she said.
“We’ve done what we can,” said Vegas. “There’s no more height to lose – look!” He waved at the flat valley floor.
“We can head back around into the other valley, there’s definitely some height change between here and there,” she said, ready with her arguments.
“It ain’t much and it’s two days away, more with the state he’s in. It isn’t enough to do him any good. No, I say we get on to Powder Burn. There’s nothing more we can do.”
“You don’t know that for certain,” she replied. “And if he doesn’t make it, how will you feel when you come back this way?”
“Like I did everything I could,” retorted Vegas.
Pete interrupted: “Do you know what height he was last comfortable at, before this happened?” he asked Jortse.
“I ... No ...” Jortse shook his head, looking up from the spoon of soup he held at Tashi’s pallid lips.
“So we don’t really know what altitude we’re trying to get him down to for a recovery,” said Pete.
“We could carry him all the way back and up and over the border and still have him die on us,” said Lens, and everyone turned towards the soft voice.
“Lens!” she hissed. “For god’s sake, he might hear you!” Then she stopped, realizing the implication of what he’d just said. “You don’t want to leave him here too, do you?”
“The only thing that makes sense is if they get proper help,” said Lens.
“Where? We’ve seen nothing and no one since we crossed the border,” she replied.
“I don’t know, I don’t live here, ask them,” retorted Lens.
They all turned back to Jortse, who lifted the spoon away from Tashi and took a mouthful himself. Then he looked around the group. “There is no one to ask for help. No one lives in these valleys,” he said.
“What about the Demagistanis?” suggested Lens.
“We cannot go to them,” replied Jortse.
“So they did invade,” said Lens.
Jortse just looked at him with blank, empty eyes.
“Maybe you have to give up on escaping Shibde if you want to save your friend,” said Pete.
Jortse grew still, cross-legged, hands clasped in his lap with his mug, his head tilted slightly downwards. It took him a long while to reply. “The Demagistanis will execute us both if they catch us.”
She opened her mouth to ask why, and then hesitated – something about Jortse made the inquiry difficult.
“Dudes,” said Vegas, eventually, “we’re helping wanted men.”
Pete spoke in measured tones to Jortse. “Even if we get him along the valley, he’s unlikely to be able to get up and across the border.”
“We’ll take the risk, we have to try,” replied Jortse. “We have to get out of Shibde. We would both rather die out here than get a bullet in the head in some stinking Demagistan prison.”
“And we’ll be going downhill most of the way to the spot where we climbed up and over to cross the border. There’s a good chance he could improve and be able to manage it by the time we get there,” said Sam.
Pete turned to her. “I guess that’s a possibility, but ...”
Vegas was shaking his head. “If we do that we’re screwed. We’re all out of food, even at the main stash, there’s not enough there to do the whole thing again. No, we have to go back up tomorrow.” He eased himself to his feet.
“Not with me you don’t, I’m not leaving him until he’s safe,” she said.
Vegas looked down at her and shrugged. “Whatever, we don’t need you, girl.”
Sam glowered back up at him, anger rising; she needed more support in this argument. There seemed only one place to find it. “Pete?” She turned and looked him in the eyes for a moment, before his gaze moved away, flicked around the group.
“I ...” He hesitated. “I think that we have to do whatever we can for him – the mountain isn�
��t going anywhere. Look, everybody’s knackered, and we can’t do anything now anyway, so why don’t we all get some sleep and then make a decision when we see how Tashi is in the morning.”
“There’s no decision to be made, we go back up before first light,” repeated Vegas. Then he added, “That’s right, isn’t it, Lens?”
“I’m not convinced that there’s anything more that we can do to help him,” said Lens. “And we have to get the film made. If we don’t, I lose ... I lose everything. I’m sorry, Sam, I don’t want to leave him, but my family ...”
“Your family aren’t dying,” whispered Sam.
“I have to look after those closest to me first, and to do that I have to finish the film,” replied Lens. “I’m not sure that anything I can do for him will make any difference anyway,” he repeated.
“We have to do everything we can, whatever –” she said.
“You don’t understand, you won’t until you have kids of your own,” retorted Lens.
“That’s a cheap shot,” she snapped back.
“Whatever,” said Vegas, “we got a plan.” Rocks ground under his boot heels as he turned and headed to the tent.
The cold and quiet of the night slipped into the gaps between them, with the labored breathing of Tashi a constant reminder of what was at stake. They watched Vegas crawl inside.
“I’m not leaving him. I’ll help Jortse carry him on my own if I have to,” she said.
“It’s all right for you,” said Lens. “You can write about this.” He waved a hand at the two men. “There’s a great article in this for you, it’s headline news, escape from Shibde, better than Powder Burn. The stuff they can tell you, I’m not surprised you’d rather go with them ...”
“That’s another cheap shot,” she replied.
“You’re a journalist?” Jortse’s voice cut in.
“She is,” Lens replied.
“No one can know about us,” said Jortse, in a tone that didn’t invite discussion. “If you give them a chance, the Demagistanis will find us – wherever we are in the world.”
Sam gazed at him silently, desperate to know what they had done, what was driving this escape.
“Not so happy now you can’t do your Pulitzer Prize–winning story, huh?” said Lens, as he flicked the dregs out of his mug. He got up with great care. “We’ll talk about it again at first light, but Vegas and I are going back to Powder Burn. Pete, a word, please,” and he twitched his head to indicate that it was to be had out of Sam’s earshot.
Powder Burn (Burn with Sam Blackett #1) Page 8