Their base clothing and insulated jackets and pants were the best money could buy too. She was pretty certain the quality of her clothing had been a major factor in saving her when she’d fallen into that crevice. Milton had insisted that she have the best, and it was a good thing he did or she probably would’ve frozen to death. Ironically, he’d bought her a heated blanket for the alpine picnic as a joke, and fortunately she’d placed it inside her jacket prior to takeoff. That blanket had been integral to her survival too.
Maybe she’d become superstitious, because she’d bought nearly exactly the same equipment this time and, like last time, she’d shoved a safety blanket inside her jacket and insisted that Oliver did too. To keep her pack’s weight down, she intended to wear the same clothes for the entire trek; her underpants were the only change of clothing she needed.
She lifted her pack and guessed it to be just fifteen or so pounds.
“You good? I can take some—” Oliver reached for her pack.
“I’m fine, how about you?” She had absolutely no intention of shirking her responsibilities.
“I’m good to go.”
As much as she’d been initially shocked at Oliver’s insistence on going with her, she was now truly grateful that he was. Especially after seeing their travel partners. She hadn’t wanted to mention it to Oliver, but there was something hauntingly familiar about Regi that unsettled her, and Pope, well he just looked like trouble.
On keeping with schedule, they kissed their luxurious lodgings goodbye and headed toward reception with twenty minutes to spare. Her Alpine clothing was too warm for the indoors and she couldn’t wait to get into the freezing temperature outside.
Reception offered a view of the chopper landing pad, and Chancy was already there. In his hands was a body stretcher. It was an unnecessary piece of equipment, but she couldn’t risk advising Chancy of her true plans yet. It was better to get to the crevice first and then declare her real intentions. Hopefully he wouldn’t be livid.
Oliver opened the door for her, and she pulled her sunglasses into position and walked ahead of him. Halfway toward the chopper, a premonition of impending death hit her like an avalanche. Her knees nearly buckled at the severity of the thought. She turned to Oliver, and his giant grin brought her right back to her final moments with Milton. Moments when she was terrified and Milton was loving every minute. But unlike last time, she had no intention of hiding her ominous feelings.
She went to pull Oliver aside, but she was too late.
Chancy waved them over. “Good, you’re early. Give me a hand.” As she watched Chancy and Oliver manipulate the supplies and equipment into the chopper’s small luggage hold and utility basket, layers of dread stacked in her mind.
At the sound of steps, she turned to see Regi and Pope walking toward them. Regi looked like an excited teenager, and she recalled the same boyish enthusiasm on Kane in his final hour too. Pope, on the other hand, had a scowl that drilled his eyebrows together and pulled his lips to a thin line. Holly contemplated that he looked to be there under duress, but then, as she watched his brutish stance and clenched fists, she’d couldn’t fathom how anyone could have control over a man like him.
Before she had a chance to get in Oliver’s ear she was asked to climb up and sit by the window in the back seat. Chancy seated them according to weight, and fortunately Oliver was positioned beside her. Pope was to Oliver’s left, and Regi sat next to him at the other window. With all of them in their padded ski gear, it was incredibly tight. And hot. When sweat dribbled down her back, Holly was grateful she was wearing the best wicking underclothing money could buy.
Holly frowned when Chancy took the front passenger seat, until moments later Miranda climbed into the pilot’s chair.
“What the hell’re you doin’?” Pope’s gruff voice boomed about the cramped space.
Chancy turned with a wry smile. “Miranda’s our pilot.”
“Thought you were the pilot.”
“Can’t be both pilot and guide. Someone’s gotta fly the chopper back.” Chancy’s grin confirmed he was amused by Pope’s discomfort.
Miranda didn’t acknowledge Pope’s comment; instead, she flicked a series of switches that triggered the rotors into motion. As they increased in speed, she pulled her headphones into position. “Can you all hear me?”
“Yes,” Holly said, and a series of affirmations confirmed they were all in communication with each other.
Holly watched Miranda toggle the gear stick, and moments later they were airborne. Oliver reached for her hand, and when their fingers entwined, she squeezed so tight her knuckles hurt.
The higher they went, the more snow there was, and the less there was of anything else. Vegetation disappeared altogether, and only the odd rock marred the whiteout.
It was about thirty minutes before she spied the shark fin-shaped mountain in the distance. The sun glinted off the whiskey-colored rock as if winking at her. With each mile they flew closer, the fin grew wider and higher, casting a triangular shadow over the snowcapped western ridge.
Miranda guided the chopper over the looming shadow beneath the jagged peak, and when Holly heard a change in gear, she realized they were descending.
“Here we are.” Miranda confirmed Holly’s assumption.
But the angle of the terrain meant Miranda couldn’t actually land; instead, she positioned the craft so the nose aimed into the slope and maintained the skids about two feet off the ground. Chancy jumped out and came around to the side to instruct them on disembarking one by one. The last thing Miranda needed was for the chopper’s weight to shift too quickly.
Once they were all out, while Chancy and Oliver worked together to remove all the equipment, Holly fitted her helmet into place. Approximately three minutes after disembarking, Miranda lifted the chopper again and Holly shielded her eyes from the glare to watch its departure. When she turned back to the others, she spied the twin pillars she’d seen all those years ago in the distance. If her memory served her right, it meant they were much closer to the crevice than Chancy had indicated.
Under Chancy’s instruction, they put their crampons on and each took their own pack. The remaining supplies of food and equipment, such as ropes and ice axes, were heaped onto the sled.
Chancy roped the group together, keeping a distance of about twenty feet between each of them: Holly at the front, then Oliver, Regi, and Pope at the end. He then strapped the sled to his waist, and without any fanfare Chancy set off toward the towering columns. Determined to keep as close to him as possible, Holly jumped in behind and kept pace.
The snow beneath her boots was about ten inches deep, much deeper than what they’d practiced in during their mountaineering course, and it was an effort to place every step. Surrounding silence hung thickly in the crisp still air, interrupted only by her breathing and the crunching of snow beneath her boots. The sky was as pure and blue as she’d ever seen, and the morning sun reflected like thousands of crystals in the frozen blanket around them. Without her sunglasses, the glare would have been excruciating. Not one cloud was visible, which was saying something, because Holly estimated she could see for hundreds of miles.
She lifted her eyes to the distance. Snow capped the ridges like the fluffiest meringue. Ahead of her, Chancy seemed to be aiming directly toward the double pillars. It was the same direction their helicopter had taken all those years ago, and, if her memory was correct, the moment they crossed that threshold they were in for a dramatic change of weather conditions.
“You okay, Holly?” She smiled at Oliver’s continual use of her true name. It must be hard for him to remember to call her that.
“I’m fine. You?”
“Great. This’s magnificent.”
It was true. The vista was truly glorious. Mist swamped the valleys below, giving her the impression she was walking in heaven. Whiskey Mountain lived up to its name, shimmering like copper in the morning sun. As they approached the pillars, she spied tendrils of silver
y mist trailing from the exposed rock. It confirmed her fear that once they crossed over they would experience a whole new side of the mountain, literally.
Chancy stopped ahead of her, and when Holly checked her watch, she was surprised that they’d been walking for an hour. Once they were bunched up again, Chancy instructed them to rest for ten minutes.
Oliver stepped in alongside Holly and placed his arm across her shoulder. “This’s awesome.”
She pointed toward the towering rocks. “It’s nice now, but once we get through there it’s going to be hell.”
“What d’ya mean?” Pope glared at her.
“See the wind trail? It means the gusts whip up the other side. Once we pass through, it’s going to get tough.”
Pope grunted, and Holly noticed a slight smirk on Regi’s face. So far, the two of them had had almost zero communication. If they were colleagues, as they claimed to be, then they must hate working together. By the pained looks on their faces, she had a feeling they’d done minimal preparation for this climb, if any. At the moment, the angle of the slope wasn’t too difficult. Certainly not as bad as Holly’s practice mountain had been. She was pretty sure that was about to change, though.
Holly found it hard to believe people climbed mountains without any serious training, and that governments allowed it to happen. She wouldn’t be here without her training, that’s for sure.
Chancy announced they were moving again. “Keep your distance, guys. Don’t bunch.”
Holly waited until there was almost no slack on the rope between her and Chancy before she started walking again. The next two hours were a repeat of the first, and it was nearing one o’clock when they reached the threshold. When Chancy stopped again, Holly took the opportunity to pluck a power bar from her pack and eat it. The glares from both Regi and Pope indicated neither of them had packed their own food. Fools.
“If you have balaclavas, now’d be the time to put ’em on. It’s going to be super windy beyond here.” As if demonstrating, Chancy tugged his blue face mask over his nose and mouth.
Holly removed hers from her pack and Oliver did the same. Neither Regi nor Pope seemed to have them.
Once they were ready, they set off again, and Holly’s fears were quick to be realized.
The second they stepped through the gateway, the wind speed increased tenfold. It whipped up the mountain, carrying snow and ice with it, and the wind chill factor skyrocketed.
They were heading downhill now, putting additional pressure on her knees, but she clenched her teeth and trudged on regardless. Exposed rocks dotted the snowy landscape like blackheads, and she had to take extra precaution with each step.
An hour into the downhill climb the wind intensified, unleashing its fury like they’d walked into hell. It blasted her so hard she had to lean forward just to remain upright. But the downward angle of the slope made that even more difficult, and the strain on her calf muscles had them burning.
Every time she thought Chancy would stop, he continued. She checked her watch and noted that he’d gone well beyond the one-hour stops he’d been making on the other side of the mountain. The ice-laden wind created a whiteout that made it impossible to see more than a few feet in front of her. Chancy was lost in the oblivion, but thankfully the rope snaking its way toward him gave her something to follow.
Nearly every muscle in her legs was aching when the rope between her and Chancy finally began to slacken. Twenty or so paces more and she spied Chancy through the haze, and when she looked up, she couldn’t believe what she was seeing.
The plane wreck appeared out of nowhere. One side of the plane was completely obliterated by accumulated snow. But as the wind curled around the metal fuselage it lifted any snow that attempted to settle and carved it away. The result was that the side of the plane positioned toward the mountain peak was still visible.
She turned to see Oliver’s reaction, and she was glad she did.
His eyes bulged, and the balaclava concealing the rest of his face made his expression even more dramatic. “Holy shit. Will you look at that?” He wrapped his arms around Holly and squeezed her in a bear hug.
Regi looked beyond exhausted when he arrived and barely showed any reaction.
When Pope appeared, Holly had to resist gasping at the sight of him. The flesh on his face looked red and raw. Clearly, he hadn’t worn sunscreen, and wind burn contributed to the rest of his suffering. When he lifted his dark eyes, it was anger she saw simmering in them. “Thank fucking Christ.”
“Hey, watch your language, buddy.” Chancy pointed a finger at Pope.
“Fuck you.” Pope’s eyes were evil daggers, and for several heartbeats the two men glared at each other.
Holly was relieved when Chancy unclenched his jaw and began untying the rope from his harness. She followed his lead and unhooked the rope from her belt too. Chancy plucked the shovel from the sled, stomped through the snow, ducked beneath the plane’s wing, and bent over to scoop the remaining snow away from the bottom of the door. Oliver left her side to help Chancy.
She could feel the evil glare from Pope, and when she glanced over her shoulder at him, she was horrified at how red his face had become. Come tonight, he’d be in agony.
A tormented screech announced the plane door opening. Chancy peeled his face mask away. “Okay, put your belts and crampons on the sled, then get your asses inside.”
Holly unclipped the crampons from her boots and tossed them onto the sled. She did the same with her equipment belt, and the hooks and ice axes jangled as she placed them atop everyone else’s gear.
Oliver held his hand toward Holly and she tugged off her balaclava, stepped forward, and ducked her head as she entered the plane. Five seats were inside: three on the left-hand side and two on the right, with a central aisle. There was a small empty space behind the last two chairs. She chose the seat at the front, sat with her pack on her lap, turned toward the front, and gasped.
The pilot was still in the cockpit.
His head was slumped forward onto the controls, and she didn’t need to look hard to see the damage to his skull. From where she sat, it looked like the steering column was embedded in his head. A couple of the glass instruments were shattered and looked to still have blood dripping down them.
She snapped her eyes away, and when her mind jumped to her earlier premonition, she hoped for everyone’s sake that this was the death that’d instigated her omen.
Regi climbed into the seat behind her, and when Pope came in, he glanced toward the cockpit then went to the back. If he’d seen the pilot, he made no reaction. He scanned the space at the back, and the stony look on his face had her wondering if he was looking for the money. Pope tossed his pack in the back, and the cabin groaned when he plonked his weight onto the back seat.
Oliver chose the seat opposite Holly and reached out to touch her knee.
“Oh shit, is that the pilot?” Regi said.
“Was the pilot,” she corrected.
“Jesus, why’s he still here?”
Chancy climbed in and tugged the door shut. “It’s not always possible to get bodies off mountains,” he said. “Not everyone’s as lucky as your guy. Retrieval costs money. A lot of money. And risk.”
“That’s so sad,” Holly said.
“Yep. I’ve been working on mountains for twenty years, and this is only the third body retrieval I’ve done. There’s bodies dotted all over the place.” He remained standing but, unlike Holly, he had to hunch over.
“Thought you said the weather was good.” Pope seemed to growl with his comment.
“Oh, this is good. You should see it on a bad day. It’ll be much better in the morning.”
Pope’s clenched teeth squared his jaw, making him look even more evil. “Where’s the bodies?” Pope snapped.
Holly cocked her head. Pope had obviously forgotten their scam about needing photos for an insurance caper.
“They’re in the crevice.” Chancy thumbed over his shoulder, indi
cating down the mountain.
“How far?” Pope hissed.
“’Bout a couple a hundred feet or so. But it’s too late now. That’s why this’s our campsite for tonight.” Chancy rubbed his hands together.
Pope stood with his head butting the roof. “What the fuck?”
Chancy’s eyes shot to Pope. “I told you to—”
“Yeah, well, you’re no longer in charge, asshole.”
Holly gasped at the gun in Pope’s hand.
Chapter Twenty-four
The sight of the gun shot panic through Regi’s gut like a bullet, and the urge to bolt out of there was huge. But Pope had them trapped. Although Regi had never witnessed it firsthand, in the deepest depths of his soul he knew Pope was not only capable of murder, but that he’d done it before. Probably many times. The Pope he knew was a thug, all muscle, no brains, and did exactly what he was told without any second thoughts. The Pope he was looking at now was no longer taking orders.
He was in charge.
And that scared the crap out of Regi.
Many times in the past four years, Regi had wanted to die. Begged to die. Not now, though. Not when he was this close to his billions—this close to getting his life back. No… not his old life. Regi was ready to make a whole new life for himself. A life so flush with cash that he could tell assholes like Pope and Carson to fuck right off. And if they didn’t, he’d make them.
Regi edged back and slinked behind the seat with his hands up. “Jesus, Pope, what the fuck’re you doing?”
“Shut up.” Pope smashed the gun into Regi’s temple and he howled. Searing pain shot behind his eyes.
The metal floor crunched beneath Pope’s boots as he strode between the seats toward the front. “You, get to the back.” Regi forced the pain from his eyes, desperate to follow Pope’s movements.
Pope’s jaw was clenched, his red-raw face hideous, and his eyes bulged so wide it looked as if his eyelids had been burned away. Pope had slipped over the edge of sanity.
Extreme Limit Page 21