The Mountain

by David L. Golemon

  Claire fell as the dark shape seemed to spread out wider at the top, as if wings were stretched as a giant bird of prey sought its dinner for the night. This time she managed to force out a scream. As she lay in the snow-covered revetment, she heard what she thought were shouts. The dark shape vanished as she was pulled to her feet and the next thing she knew she was being forced to run.

  When she finally realized she had been pulled from her predicament, she saw John Henry holding onto her. Gray Dog came running from the small canyon, pointing a Henry rifle back into it. He finally turned to face Claire and John Henry. He nodded and then left.

  “It’s a good thing I told Gray Dog to keep an eye on you.”

  “I … I … Did you see that thing?”

  “I don’t know what it is I saw. I did see you trying to fend off something only you could see.”

  “There was something in there with me, damn it!” she said a little too loudly as men started to pay attention. John Henry took her by the elbow and led her away.

  “Look, I believe you.” He looked around and made sure there were no ears to hear him. “Right now I don’t need those men out there to believe you. It wouldn’t take much to send frightened men over the edge, and believe me, we are asking a lot of these men, the mysteries and old wives’ tales of this area notwithstanding.”

  Claire felt embarrassed. John Henry pulled her hood up and then he smiled as best he could.

  “I apologize, once again, Colonel. I am not prone to hysterics.” Her eyes narrowed and she used a gloved hand to punch little Morse-code taps into the colonel’s chest. “But I know what I saw in there. That curse is real and I believe every word that Professor Ollafson has said about the entity on this mountain.”

  John Henry watched Claire as she started to turn. She stopped and angrily confronted him. She stepped up and repeated the tapping on his chest. This time it was much harder.

  “And what do you mean you had Gray Dog watching out for me?”

  “Look, since you are the only woman, I thought—”

  Again the finger jabs. “That’s your problem, Colonel Thomas, you think far too much, and sometimes not enough!” She turned and stormed away.

  “Yes, ma’am, I’ve been told that,” he said under his breath as he watched her leave.

  “I can see you two are growing closer.”

  John Henry turned and saw Jessy as he walked past on his way to eat chow.

  “Jessy, you can kiss my—”

  “Yes, sir, ever closer.” Taylor whistled the tune of “Dixie” as he strolled away nonchalantly.

  John Henry was actually tempted to pull his Colt and at least shoot Jessy in the back of the leg to shut him up, but he chuckled instead.

  “God help me.”

  Thomas didn’t know it, but God was going to sit this one out.

  21

  Jessy was the first man to make it to the ledge and was shocked to see Gray Dog sitting on a large boulder that was covered in a fine sheet of ice. The Comanche was eating an apple obviously supplied by his new best friend, mess steward Grandee. The colonel bent at the waist to recover his strength and breath.

  “No good,” Gray Dog said as he took a bite of apple.

  Taylor took another three deep breaths, feeling the burn in his lungs not only from the cold, but from the lack of oxygen that was now starting to take a toll on the men. That was why he’d gone ahead to see if Gray Dog’s assessment of Ollafson old route was viable. He was quickly learning it was not. The route had suffered avalanches since the professor was last on Ararat in 1859. In some places it made transiting the glacier easier, but in others the landslides had created massive voids in the ice, which had already claimed several of the supply sleds and nearly their handlers. The men were growing increasingly frustrated over the slow progress up to the summit. Each knew that time was as valuable a commodity as the sparse air they were breathing.

  “Damn,” Taylor finally managed to say. “If we go your route we could lose a full two days.”

  Gray Dog tossed the apple core into a deep crevasse as if to illustrate his point. “It is a straight climb up the ice face. It will take us directly to top. Rope lines will help the men make the climb. We will save a full day.”

  Gray Dog didn’t wait for Taylor to reply. The Comanche scout figured the Confederate cavalryman simply had no choice. Jessy started to say something when his feet gave out underneath him. He immediately reached out and grabbed the edge of the void and managed to keep from falling. He struggled with his own weight as gravity insisted on taking command. He felt his fingers through the thick gloves start to slip. He looked down and as he did his tinted goggles fell from his head into the endless void over which his feet dangled. He knew he wasn’t going to make it.

  That was when he felt something take a hold of his foot from below. He fought to see what it was that was pulling him to his death. As he struggled to see far below, all that was visible was darkness and the occasional free-falling ice from the crevasse. Then he saw it. The dark shape of a large hand was actually trying to take him down to a crushing death some hundreds of feet below. He kicked out, trying to dislodge the grip of his unseen assailant, but only managed to loosen his grip on the ice above him.

  Suddenly hands were grasping his wrists and pulling. He felt the thing that held tightly to his boot grow in intensity as it fought the resistance from above. Finally Jessy felt the weight on his left boot fall away and he could have sworn he heard a faded and mournful cry as the entity lost an opportunity. After some struggle with Jessy using his other foot for leverage, he was pulled from the void. He fell over onto his back and then when he opened his eyes he saw Gray Dog standing over him with his ridiculous coyote hat also staring at him.

  “I suppose I have an ‘I told you so’ coming,” he said as he allowed Gray Dog to pull him into a standing position. Taylor caught himself after a brief dizzy spell and then looked at the Comanche. Gray Dog didn’t understand what he was trying to say. “All right, Indian, you got the better of me on this one. Show me your route.”

  Gray Dog nodded as he started to turn away but was stopped by the strong hand of Taylor.

  “Look, I’m glad you came back. That would have been a long fall.”

  Gray Dog nodded, not understanding the way in which the white man chose to say thanks. In his world there was no such word.

  “Evil spirit lives in the mountain, wants all men dead.”

  The words caught Taylor off guard. “Then you did see it?”

  Gray Dog only looked at Jessy and said nothing. The Comanche merely leaned over and took a hold of two large coils of thick rope and then turned away and left.

  “Damn, it seems Miss Claire’s not imagining things after all.”

  * * *

  Dugan was pacing in front of John Henry as a navy chief petty officer reported to Captain Jackson.

  “The trail ends a quarter mile up. We followed their footprints until they vanished before a large crevasse.”

  “Oh, Jesus, don’t tell me we lost the Indian and the colonel?” Dugan said as he knew immediately that he’d overstepped his bounds with John Henry. But the colonel remained silent as he listened to the report to Jackson. Thomas figured Dugan was secretly as worried about Gray Dog as himself. His eye movement told Dugan to be silent.

  “We called down into the void, but there was no answer, Captain.”

  “Very well. Go warm yourselves up by the mess area.”

  Jackson turned to face John Henry with a questioning look on his face—an expression that asked, “What do we do now?”

  “I’ll go check it out myself. Can’t trust the goddamn navy to do anything right,” Dugan said as he started to return to the route they were taking before the halt.

  Before the sergeant major could take two steps a thick rope dropped from above and whacked him squarely in the head. He cursed as it knocked from his head the Union cap that he wore underneath his hood.

  “What the hell?” he said as
he grabbed the rope. He looked up and standing on the ledge high above them was Gray Dog, who was smiling at his targeting prowess. The sergeant major started to curse in anger, or was it relief at seeing the Comanche still alive? Thomas smiled as he saw Jessy standing next to Gray Dog.

  “Ollafson’s passage is blocked. Your Injun boy found another route. Should get us to the summit by dawn tomorrow.”

  The words echoed and the men, who had taken to lying down for rest and to regain the oxygen levels in their lungs, all heard the report as it bounced from one ice wall to the next.

  “And how do we get up there?” Captain Jackson asked, very afraid of the answer.

  “Well, you better tell Miss Anderson to tie down that skirt of hers because we have to haul everyone up four and five at a time. It would take too long to backtrack and then go around. Apologies to the miss.”

  “Tell Colonel Taylor I climb just as well as any man,” she said as she took the rope from Dugan and then deftly spit into her gloves and rubbed her hands together. She shrugged out of the small pack that Dugan had bogged her down with and then looked up.

  “Anytime,” she called up.

  Thomas looked from the one who was scaling the rope like a professional circus performer, to the face of Captain Jackson, who looked around nervously.

  “You know, Colonel, besides a complete failure in our mission, I find myself more terrified of failing to match that woman’s prowess at climbing.”

  “I’ve got news for you, Captain Jackson. You’re not alone in your fears.”

  “Oh, goodness and saints be praised, I think I better go the long way,” Dugan said just as another heavy rope struck him in the head.

  “Oops, apologies, Sergeant Major,” Taylor called from above. As Dugan looked up he saw a smiling Gray Dog, who had obviously just thrown the rope because Taylor was too busy assisting Claire to the top.

  “I guess that settles it, you Irish rogue, now get to climbing. We have a lot of men and equipment to get up there.”

  Dugan looked at Thomas, horrified. “But … but…”

  “Yes, you could fall, but then you would have to listen to Claire’s bragging all the way home. For six thousand miles she will never let you live it down,” John Henry said, smiling.

  Dugan dropped his pack and then did as Claire had and spit into his gloved hands. He took hold of the rope and then with a dirty look at the naval personnel watching him, started up the wall. As soon as his feet came off the ground a rather large chunk of snow hit the sergeant major square in the bearded face. He lost his grip and fell the four feet to the snow-covered ground.

  “Sorry, that was my fault,” Claire yelled down as Dugan looked up. All he saw was Claire holding her gloves to her mouth as she had watched the snowball fall. But it was the smiling face of Gray Dog standing next to her that irritated Dugan to no end.

  “That does it, I’m going to kill him.”

  * * *

  This time it was Taylor, three of his men including Corporal Jenks, and the mess crew that were left below to secure the last of the supply sleds. As the last ten-by-seven sled was hoisted up the side of the ice face, Jenks faced Jessy. He made sure that the big man Grandee and his navy boys didn’t hear what he had to say.

  Taylor had steadied the last sled and then slapped Grandee on the back. He nodded that he was appreciative of the man’s size and strength. Grandee saw Jenks approach and nodded a greeting, which Jenks still didn’t know how to react to, so he just stared at him until he moved off to get ready for their own climb.

  “Colonel, the boys sorta elected me to talk for ’em.”

  Taylor lowered his hood and then pulled his goggles down. He looked around and saw the other two men outside the circle of mess cooks and noticed they were intently watching the conversation. Jessy slowly pulled off his gloves. He waited without inviting Jenks to continue.

  “Colonel, sir, we figure it’s time for us southern boys to skedaddle outta here.”

  “Just us four, just up and get, is that it?” Jessy said as his eyes became cold.

  “No, sir, not at all. But once we’ve climbed this mountain, we figure we’ve kept our side of the bargain. It’s time for us to go and find a way to get back home and into our own fight. That’s where we belong, Colonel. Not here where we can be kilt and no one will ever know. I mean, at least at home we can die for what we believe, not”—he waved upward toward the rest of the expedition—“what those Yankees think they want.”

  Taylor took a deep breath and then looked at Grandee, who was slipping on a rope so he could take his turn to ride the mountain. Jessy reached up and brushed away some of the ice that had built up in his mustache and beard.

  “We go when I say we go, not one moment before, Corporal.” He looked toward the expectant faces of the other two. “You make sure every man in my command understands that. I wouldn’t care if it was Old Abe himself up there, I wouldn’t leave him in a place like this. Whether they be Yank or Johnny Reb, no one deserves to be left here, and until we come down from this mountain we stay together.”

  Jenks looked taken aback as if he had been slapped by Taylor.

  “And once that’s done, Colonel, do we head back nice and easy and all them people with guns out there will just let us walk right on outta here? Sir, you know as soon as we put to sea those Frenchies and Brits are liable to blow us right out of the water.”

  “Once down from this mountain, who is to say how we get back?”

  “Colonel, sir?”

  “I figure once we’ve proven that Swedish fool’s little boat exists or doesn’t exist, we’ve fulfilled our oath, or at least my oath to Colonel Thomas, and then we’re on our own as far as I’m concerned. After all, Corporal, the navy is not the only way to get home.”

  Finally the light of understanding dawned in the Tennessean’s eyes.

  “Now, not one more word about mutiny.” Taylor smirked. “At least until I say to mutiny.”

  “Yes, sir, Colonel,” Jenks said and then moved off.

  Jessy still had the smirk on his face when he turned and saw Grandee staring right at him. Taylor watched as the black man slowly shook his head just as they started hauling the man up the rope. Jessy watched a moment and then replaced his goggles and hood.

  He didn’t know how long he could keep his now-armed men in check.

  * * *

  The line of men and equipment stretched out for a full quarter of a mile as they made slow progress up the ice shelf. They could see the gleam, even in the overcast skies, of the glacier a mile or so up. The Indian had been right, the new routes had shaved at least a day off their journey and not one man had died because he fell through a void.

  John Henry and Jackson walked in front, digging their climbing staffs into the ice with every step. Claire was right behind them with Ollafson and McDonald. Each person was roped together as per Captain Jackson’s orders.

  “I don’t know about you, Colonel, but I am truly wondering what sort of spy our Mr. McDonald is. I mean, he has made no overt moves even to slow our progress. No messages sent, none received. What do you make of it?”

  John Henry lowered the woolen scarf from his bearded face. “I thought by keeping him close I could figure out his game, but as you say, I don’t know if he has one. Maybe he’s just to observe and report.”

  “I believe he could accomplish that merely by cornering a drunken sailor or marine and bribing him to talk once we return.”

  “Perhaps McDonald doesn’t see us making it out alive.”

  “I see your point, sir.”

  “Point?” Claire asked as she joined them.

  “We were just wondering when our Victorian spy was going to act like one,” Thomas said.

  “Yes, I suspect we’re pretty safe until we either return with the proof, or we fail. Then he will report and then London will have to make a decision. Until then, I’m pretty sure Mr. McDonald does not want to remain up here for eternity, and without us that is surely what would happe
n. I mean, the man threw a fit because he lost his toiletries in the Persian attack on our camp.”

  “Colonel, Gray Dog is signaling,” Dugan said as he slowed his pace to allow them to catch up.

  It took several minutes for the column to reach the point where Gray Dog waited. John Henry stepped up to the Comanche, who simply turned and pointed. Thomas raised his goggles and looked into the blowing wind. The glacier.

  “My God, it stretches on forever,” Claire said as she also lowered her hood and goggles.

  “A great expanse of nothing,” Taylor said as he caught up to the rest.

  “Yes, it is,” Thomas commented.

  “And do you notice what’s missing?” Taylor asked.

  Thomas and Claire turned to face him.

  “The Ark. Where is it?”

  Ollafson finally arrived, looking like a young child on Christmas morning. He let his staff fall to the ice and he slapped his gloved hands together once.

  “The summit!”

  “And where is your biblical rowboat, Mr. Ollafson?” Taylor asked as he removed his hood and glared at the old man.

  The professor laughed. “Do you think it sits upon the glacier, my young friend?” He laughed with such glee that even Steven McDonald took a step away from him as he thought him suddenly insane. “This glacier had to have been formed a hundred, maybe even a thousand years after the Ark came to rest.”

  “Biblical scholars place the flood at roughly four thousand years ago. Geologists claim the glacier on this mountain range is more than ten thousand years old,” Claire said as she was also looking at the professor like he had fallen off the trolley car.

  “Simple. The biblical scholars are wrong in their estimates. The Ark was on the flooded seas twelve to thirteen thousand years ago.”

  The comment was met with silence. As for John Henry, he felt his heart fall through to the bottom of his stomach. The man was insane. Most believed civilization was only five thousand years old, and now here was Ollafson saying everyone was wrong. He lowered his head and felt Claire’s hand on his shoulder as she realized the same thing.