My right arm has some feeling again; I strike my knuckles on the wall to re-focus. It’s me who has let me down most. For the first time I let all of my back rest on the snow and just soak up the pain.
I almost lost my son a few days ago and now he risks losing me. I gained a new son yesterday and nothing occurred to me to stop today. I hit the ice wall again with my right fist but the glove keeps me from harm. I have to talk to them. I take off my right glove again, putting the open end on my nose and it bellows unexpected warmth onto my nose. My iPhone and headphones were back inside my jacket, with a halfeaten Snickers. I bite the bar three times before any breaks off. I chew it through involuntary chattering. I push an earpiece into each ear scraping the skin. I press the Voice Memo application.
“Bepe, Ethan, my boys… my boys, it’s a struggle.” I pause after a few words biting my inner lips to damp the shivers.
“You don’t know me… but I hope you can hear this.” What do you hope for Dan?
“You may hear…” this message at some point in the future when I am long gone or I may grow old with you both having never heard it. I can’t bring myself to say anything like that as I am incapacitated anyway.
“I just want you both to know… stuff bout life…about me.” I need to tell them something especially as I may have no life left.
I pluck up the courage to tilt my head left. Nothingness roars up at me; black spills from its depths. My heart tumbles into its darkness; I make to cry.
Mercy indeed. I have escaped death when it was a much easier target. The body width of this ice ledge holds me and I am eternally grateful. I have dodged the bullet.
Right now, I must speak up for my boys. I hit record again “Number one. Have a passion… mine was music…”
CHAPTER 41
Juliet 16.04
“HOW DO YOU MOTIVATE A MAN?”
Panting; side step; heavy panting; side step; gravel-voiced panting.
My right thumbnail catches onto the cotton lining of my glove; how did it snap? Maybe when I planted the pole to mark Dan’s resting place? It courses annoyance through my body. Fibres lodge defiantly into the nail, wedging further into the jagged gap. I draw my thumb away but it won’t release. Despite the gloomy light I can see the depression it causes by dragging the glove skin inward.
We are climbing back up the slope away from the departing sun. Five bodies trudge up towards amber light on higher ground. The nail rips further as I extend my only pole.
Oh Dan, when did you become so inept? Hold on there; hold on to that ledge, I will get Ethan to you. If I have let you down over the last eighteen years at least I can do that.
“Where the fuck are we headed again? You can’t use a tourist map to navigate mountains.” And have you any alternative Robert?
Everyone stops; lactic acid builds in our muscles. Walking sideways and upwards hyper-extends knees and calves. It is only stopping that brings dull pain.
“We made a plan; we don’t have alternatives.” Johnny and Steve witness me try to shout him down again.
“Even if this hut thing is up there, it will probably be some empty wooden shack.”
“The brochure says it’s a hostel type place. It’s peak season so they probably have someone still there. Climbers or someone,” Johnny counters.
“It cannot be too far. It’s the only plan we have. Look, the photo on the map shows a rocky outcrop above us like this one.” I am convinced of our broad direction, but Robert raises enough doubt in me to wonder.
“Maybe we can come back for Dan tonight?” Steve suggests naively.
“Of course we can. We should make it into town for his last night out I reckon. Maybe I can get Dan to shaft that prossie after all, instead of throwing up on her,” Robert mocks disgustingly.
“Is she any good? That’s what I want to know. Despite being surrounded by pussies for the last few days, I quite fancy some myself.” Max asks Robert. They roll eyes and laugh to themselves. He presumably has the required amorality to see it through.
“We have to save him.” Steve feels the weight of events on his shoulders. His voice squeaks and alerts me to imminent tears, but I can’t see behind his sunglasses. He knows he can’t lose it in front of his male companions. He is now the weakest link: the zeta male.
“Dan’s fine, stop bleating. He has probably nipped down to the bottom of the crevasse for that chocolate I tossed him.” Max continues to blank out blame; cancerous behaviour deemed benign.
Johnny fears the loss of his friend too much to engage with anyone.
The fading sunlight works against us. I check my rough bearings on the inadequate map, hopefully for the last time. I visualise the Refuge, maybe an hour’s walk away. If we bear up the slope but keep right we should get there with a steep bit at the end.
What is it with these guys? Either dumb struck with fear or arrogantly oblivious to the disasters they have created. A path of humility in-between seems impossible. I don’t believe any of them. Their self-belief is either over or under calibrated to hide acts of contrition and delusion. They are all trapped in their own drama. They just cannot let themselves see a bigger one with their friend on the edge of life. But none of it helps anyone; in a time of a crisis they underestimate the threat.
I pull my single pole from the snow; ripping a bigger gap in the jagged nail. Snow falls from each ski as I strike out for Dan and Ethan. It is turning crustier as it hardens out of the sunlight; sometimes giving and breaking into softer snow underfoot, sometimes holding despite me taking my full body weight on one leg.
We plough on; side step, side step, shuffle, shuffle. Sometimes heaviness in my legs dictates a shuffle forward. I watch my skis, not the scenery. I strike out in hope and sometimes can’t bear to lift my head in case that is dashed.
I once watched the sun go down on Uluru in Australia. You realise how inattentive your mind is, unable to comprehend a slow lessening of light. Occasionally you wake up long enough to realise that it has slipped away. The same happens here, so much effort pumped into our legs that you feel robbed when you do look up and see how much mountain there is and how little sun. What will Dan be seeing now, his last sunlight?
“Johnny, have you got plans for Dan’s last night of freedom next Friday?” I ask Johnny to focus him.
“Just a quiet one… going to some pubs… in Chester, just me and Dan.” He pants between steps but the sentence crumbles, as he no longer feels able to pretend.
“I would love to join you.”
“When will you let him be? He is marrying someone else next week.” Max badly misinterprets my intent. He strides past me by virtue of his longer legs. Robert gives a forced grin as he stretches to get past. Their cold hearts beat icily.
“Let’s wait for Steve.” I pause and Johnny does likewise. My eyes readjust to even less light. No crevasses appear to impede our way ahead. Steve seems to see treachery all around. Every step is the click of the trigger against an empty chamber; raising the chance of breaking through to an imagined crevasse below.
“Keep in our tracks Steve and you will be safe.”
“Yeah mate. We will get out of this no problem.” Johnny encourages his progress but neither of us reaches him. Every step hesitantly picked out by some fractured measure of probability of a fall. He reaches us but looks shot.
“Don’t worry about those two jerks. I know exactly the direction to head.” I doubt if they have a clue other than up.
“Juliet… Juliet. For fuck’s sake Juliet,” Robert shouts at us from fifty yards ahead.
“We aren’t leaving anyone behind you arse.”
“Juliet you…” He is stepping down the hill towards us. The weakness of his legs propels him faster.
I mentally sink at the prospect of more confrontation. This knight has held her sword too long; it clunks to the floor.
He reaches me with fierce humility on his face. “Juliet you were right. We will get there.” I fall under his weight. He squeezes me across the shoulders
and kisses me aggressively on the lips. I now know he doubted we were ever getting off the mountain.
“Come on children, let’s get going.” Arms go aloft in celebration. Johnny and Steve step up in unison behind Robert. I follow and see two glorious beaming windows of artificial light from a small hut way above us; giving our eyes the chance to recalibrate the greyness around us.
“We may get to Chamonix for a pint after all.” Steve recovers his sense of delusion and has one arm around his boss Max.
“I’m having some chocolate to celebrate,” Robert adds. I note that he never volunteered to throw that to Dan. “We will be lucky to get there by six. It’s up to an hour away. We can see less and less.” Robert estimates.
“Let’s be having you!” Robert treats the Refuge De Requin as his discovery.
I breathe new life. Ethan’s presence elsewhere boosts me up the hill.
“We will get him out now won’t we?” Johnny asks.
“We’ve got every chance.” Our best chance is to rescue him tonight, which is unrealistic.
Why can’t we go faster? We eat up space in leg-length chunks. I belatedly take off redundant sunglasses. At first we seem to just be moving around the hut at the same distance but then we get closer. No one considers what we may find there; shelter is our only hope. Proximity is being traded for the light we need. The shape of the hut gets no clearer.
Robert booms out a rousing chorus from an English rugby song. He is devouring the space; his rescue is almost realised. I keep the others in touch with Robert. Ethan must meet his father. The time is right to unite them.
What time is it? I haven’t looked because of the hassle of getting out my phone. It’s five thirty. I can distinguish outlines well enough. Robert and I start to traverse the slope alone, after instructing the others to wait. The unison of our shuffle leaves us without breath. Neither Robert nor I exchange an expression; we know we have to make this happen.
Where is the hut? Suddenly we cannot see the hut from any angle. Inexplicably we have lost sight of the lighted windows, as we get nearer. I had hoped for a progressive climb to the refuge, but the terrain becomes uncompromisingly steep.
What the hell is in front of us? My brain shifts and I recoil slightly as an ice cliff sheers up at me. Its physicality makes me topple back a step. Desperately my eyes try to pick out its form, but it seems impassable.
“You re-trace our steps and find where that fucking hut has gone. I will walk along here and find a way up.” Robert says anxiously.
I work my way back to the others, checking over my shoulder every two steps to see when the hut re-appears.
“Why are you coming back?” Steve is close to breaking point.
“The hut must be on top of a cliffside. As we get closer it disappears,” I explain.
“It’s on that rock face over to our right.”
“Did you factor in a rock climb before bedtime Juliet?” Max chides. He, like Robert, perceives no barrier, they are almost off the hook.
“Let’s keep going guys. We’ve got to stay positive. There may be a path up when we get there,” Johnny implores.
“Yes, sure.” I don’t convince myself. I have been looking down; my heads swims as I search the horizon for shape. I see the small window of light from the hut again, but in the darkness it blinds everything in that direction. Give it up for mercy’s sake. We have suffered enough banality and brutality this week. Please let us go, please. Let us rescue all souls from this brutal occasion.
We press on towards Robert and the ice. The steepness of the cliff in front of us can’t properly be judged, nor its composition.
“Help me!” shouts Steve, “Help me.” The second request fades; the ice in front of us eats it up.
I anxiously rip off my ski gloves to assist him. A deep chunk at the top of my thumbnail comes with it. My whelp starts as an expression of surprise pain. It ends as a cry of exasperation.
Could we be rescued from here? The distance isn’t the problem. We are fifty feet under the hut, close enough to hold a conversation with anyone there. But there appears no reason for anyone to do so. We may as well be with Dan in his crevasse.
The men around me howl abrasively, the pack of wolves baying for relief. Steve prays on his knees. Robert throws a ski pole at the wall. It hits the ice cliff abruptly and falls to ground, now we can what is set in front of us. Even the wolves have limits; every thought produces the same stark outcome. However tantalisingly close, we are abandoned. They had no comfort for the prospective newly wed, but have to respect our plight.
It is not the woman who is wailing. I may wish for a hand to pluck me to up to safety on the ledge, but screaming won’t make that happen. They moan in despair and guilt. We have found our way here but I need to find a way back to Ethan.
CHAPTER 42
Dan 17.52
Focus on the light to get me back to my boys.
“Number one. Have a passion boys… mine was music. I could play but listened better… Music locates you. Whatever… pick something you can share with others… Maybe I let music exclude me.” I pause again for my teeth chatter to die away.
I shift onto my side to give my back the chance to warm.
“Number two. Think. Think brilliantly. Think… Thoughts are things.” A fading pink blanket still burns visible on the mountain tops. Sun long gone from view, leaving today’s crime scene red-handed. My sunset? I will myself into that light.
“Create your own reality. I spend too much time creating for capitalists…”
Non-stop now, my shuddering body is racked with the jitters. Maybe it will create my warmth and be my salvation? My right ski anchors me in roughly the same spot. No room.
“She’s as cold as ice. He’s as cold as ice.” Both things shriek in my head. Again and again they take my focus. “He’s as cold as ice.” I’m sure now. Guinness Ice, Bud Ice, this ice, that ice.
I realise I am still recording. “Number three. What was number three? Magnificent Seven I think. No take responsibility boys… I have to face up now… Get married… love you. Face up boys. Take responsibility for your self, your kids… don’t blow it. Don’t blow it.
I hear the iPhone chirrup. There is no power left, it has been drained away more in the extreme cold. In my jacket pocket, put the phone in my pocket. I struggle but it slips into my jacket just as it has done a hundred times in the past few days.
Wrap up. Zip up. I have had my right hand exposed for too long and my jacket open at the top.
I hear feet I am sure. Pitter-patter. Pitter-patter. Light feet I’m sure.
Sophia, Sophia. I shudder to think when I last thought of her. Marrying her, marrying her. Life with or without me? All I see is her future anger. Anger at the lunacy that got me here. Anger at cancellation. Her day, her dad’s doing. Sophia calm down, calm… A wave takes over. My extreme chattering chips an incisor, I ingest ivory.
Those boys, the boys, the men, the stags. Johnny will remember me. Johnny will cherish me. Where are they? The Aiguilles is too far for them to get back to. They have pushed me too far. Where could they go? Will they take care of Juliet? Robert and Max will keep themselves alive.
Where is the edge now? Can’t look, must not look.
Feet dance into fresh snow above me and stop. Is someone up there? Not human, no chance. Rabbit, fox or maybe a bear?
Sophia and Bepe will just stay with her parents now. There will be no new house for us, no new nuclear family formed. Not needed, superfluous. I can’t shake this wave off. Numb from shoulder blades to calf. Sweet Bepe will be lost in over compensation, he is a brat in the making even now. I am losing him to that already. Ethan is lost to me. Never recover now. What was Juliet thinking? Pushing me, pushing buttons.
“Aaaah!” The sound scampers down the wall and loops back. I am surprised at the noise even though it was mine. My left elbow had fallen away and I panicked. I shuffle right towards the wall. I push my right shoulder up to it. I will be vibrated off the ledge by my
chattering. Can’t sleep now; have to control it or let myself go. But I am so tired of the shaking, tired and aching.
Walking again, that is no rabbit at the lip. A fox? How hungry? He’s thinking of me. My god he wouldn’t. A wolf? An easy jump but no way back up, but can he calculate that? The black figure turns and scampers back above my head from view.
Pitch black and sadness fills the gaping hole. Two, three figures are back, weighing up the jump.
“Nooo…aaagh!” I scream at them. Preserve yourself, selfpreservation… society.
“Aaaaagh!” Has the desired effect. The horizon is clear but I’m not on it.
Pitch black. A shudder rises. Uncontrollable jerks start at my back and arms and flow to my feet. I somehow relish the sensation of being pounded on the ice; it stimulates warmth.
It’s not enough; I’ve not been good enough. I am the boy who didn’t cry wolf. My shudder fades out. I have been my worst enemy, my lousy defence. Best to let it be.
CHAPTER 43
Juliet 17.52.
“WHY IS IT ALWAYS A WOMAN?”
Their noise has gone. No more fighting, enough now. I am fighting for breath but know the next one will come.
There is blood on the snow but I am no killer. It is my blood and I am a saviour. Salvation is close.
Why am I praying? On my knees and shins in the snow as I hold my body together in a ball. I cradle my sore arms, that were almost ripped from my body. My shins are screaming cold. An exploding heart beats in my ears. It’s stopped now. Ethan is close. Elbows dig my calves as I huddle all the pieces of my body back together. Breasts snug against thighs. Holding my kneecaps, I rock for warmth, but such pain. Shoulders scream of distress; one pull away from dislocation. God has had a hand in it; but I have had both. I have so much life to save now, so much to rescue from itself.
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