by Jamie Ott
“That’s not the actual trail!” he said more forcefully. “We’ll climb this hill, and if we don’t see a more obvious way to the summit, then we’ll turn back.”
“Yeah, but it’s raining. We might hurt ourselves, trying to get up there,” Julius suggested, motioning to the slippery, muddy hill.
“I’ll go first,” said Uncle Bally.
“No, I will. When I get up there, I’ll throw down the rope. Julius will go second, because if he falls, I can hall him up. Then you’ll go last, Uncle Bally, that way there are two of us to pull you up, if you should fall, too.”
Uncle Bally handed Jacko the tied up rope, which he put in his backpack. Gently, he put his right foot on the incline of the hill. He pressed his foot down, hard, testing the sogginess. Then he bent over, placed his hands on a large rock that protruded, and used it to help pull him up the first few feet of the mountain base.
Easily, his toes pushed into the soggy mud, creating a bit of slip each time, but settling just right, almost like a foot divot in a wall.
A few more feet up, he noticed a row of jagged rocks that he climbed over to and followed to the top of the hill.
Ten minutes later, he stood atop, turning around, looking for some other sign of a trail.
Next, went Julius, who seemed to be part monkey, as he scaled up the base in half the time. Julius turned and tossed the rope down to Uncle Bally who, then, tied it around his waist. He struggled the most but got there all the same.
As they stood there, looking about, they were momentarily disappointed. There weren’t any other signs of trails, but then, all of a sudden it appeared.
“Did you see that?” asked Julius.
Jacko turned his head to see what he spoke of. Where the down side of the hill was, a moment ago, now laid a dirt trail that was lined with trees and bushes. He followed it with his eyes, and saw that it led up and out of sight, behind the other side of the mountain.
“That must be it,” Jacko said and walked on.
They followed the trail, which, except for the rock grades, was fairly easy. However, Uncle Bally seemed the worse for it, as he wasn’t accustomed to hiking such tight angled inclines.
From the ground, the mountain looked like a dry dirt rock with some green. But now, they were drenched in a moisture rich atmosphere, surrounded by scented plush green grass and tall coniferous trees that blocked out much of the sky.
As before, they didn’t see any signs of other life. They had a ton of food but there was no telling how long it would take them to reach the actual summit. Hunting could be dangerous, especially if they had to go far off trail to find food.
The intensity of the trail led them to take frequent drinks of water. Thirst was, quickly, becoming a problem, so when Julius wasn’t looking, he tried to enchant their bottles the way he’d enchanted Uncle Bally’s whiskey and cigarettes to replenish itself. It didn’t work. Puzzled, he tried a dozen more times, and finally gave up.
In the evening, when Uncle Bally asked why he looked so worried, he told him.
“What do you think it could be?” Jacko asked, running his hands, agitatedly, through his hair.
“I don’t know. This place must be anti-enchantments.”
Jacko looked at Uncle Bally, a moment, and wondered if they’d, also, spent time together in another life.
“Why are you looking at me like that?”
“I don’t know. Sometimes you say such smart things, and it makes me wonder if you and I have been here before. How would you know to make a suggestion such as anti enchantments?”
Uncle Bally merely looked at him, and sipped his whiskey.
“I don’t believe in reincarnation. What sort of Christian do you think I am?”
Ignoring his reply, he asked, “Have you ever had a sense of deja vu while with me?”
Lightly, he pursed his lips and looked away.
“Uncle Bally?”
But he said no more, as Julius had emerged from the trees.
“I’m worried; it’s getting colder.”
~~~
When they woke at sunrise, it was to discover temperatures dropped another ten degrees; then there was a light afternoon snow. Julius wanted to continue, but they decided to give it a rest for Uncle Bally who’d started complaining about his arthritis.
Off the trail, toward the mountain side, the incline of the actual rise made excellent protection against the elements. They settled as close to the mountain wall as they could. Combined with the trees, not only were they shielded from the snow fall, but they found good insulation that stayed their fire from withering, keeping them warm through the night.
As much couldn’t be said for the next night: Twenty more miles up the cold mountain, Julius tried to get a fire going, but even with a magnesium block and a piece of char cloth, it was too moist and cold. Uncle Bally asked Julius to help him gather more wood so that Jacko could give it a try. Fire wasn’t a problem when you could control heat, but as with the water bottles, his efforts were useless.
When Julius and Uncle Bally got back from the bush to find Jacko still running the back of his blade along the flint, sending sparks into the magnesium shavings, his uncle gave him a look that said a thousand words.
“I know, I know,” Jacko said and exhaled loudly. He passed the flint and knife so Uncle Bally could try. “We need to get to the summit as quickly as possible.”
Thankfully, Uncle Bally got the fire started that night, with a combined effort of spark throwing from all three of them.
Relieved, they both settled in and relaxed.
“You know,” said Julius, pulling out the cookware. “I sort of think we should go back, especially since neither one of you knows how much further we need to go.”
“I know, and I’m sorry. If you need to go, it’s fine.”
Jacko pulled out a pack of pheasant meat and the bottle of olive oil and handed it to Julius.
“By myself? That might be more dangerous.” He poured some olive oil into the pan. “No, I’m staying. Mother came to me last night. She said to stay with you both; that we’d make it, though it would be rough.”
Uncle Bally who was puttering with the metal can, gathering snow for water - for tea, looked at Jacko.
Julius looked at them, looking at each other, and said with blue eyes wide, “I know I sound crazy, but my dreams have never let me down before. So I know that you, two, must be worried, but don’t. We will be fine.”
Uncle Bally smiled, shook his head and kept gathering snow.
“You know, that makes me feel so much better. Yes, I was really worried,” said Jacko, the relief sounding out in his voice. Even if Julius didn’t know why his dreams always panned out, Jacko and Uncle Bally knew it was a good omen. And that night, they slept most restfully, knowing that, soon, they’d be in a place that would protect them from the end-of-times war.
The next morning, they were, each, so sore that they were practically crippled. Jacko’d never had such a painfully stiff neck. His shins felt as though they’d been through a cheese grater. Every step taken was a leg in an iron maiden.
Jacko helped Uncle Bally stretch his muscles for a good thirty minutes after breakfast before they went on their way. For good measure, Julius joined them in their exercises.
The weather dampened considerably, wearing away at their good nature like rust on metal. By nightfall, temperatures were down another twenty degrees. A heavy snow fall had begun; the sky turned almost purple, and the moon looked grey, as did the clouds.
Poor Uncle Bally couldn’t continue, and Jacko had no intention of forcing him.
At first, Julius was disappointed that they should lose a day of walking, but then he conceded, stating that everything would work out the way it was meant to be. His words were just another grouping to pass his lips that made Jacko wonder, with killer curiosity, who the heck he really was.
Nothing is a coincidence anymore, he muttered under his breath, as he followed Julius and Uncle Bally of
f the trail.
Over the next few days, it was more of the same. They pushed on in spite of their pain, yet every other day they had no choice but to rest. It was one thing to push on in a warm atmosphere; however, the cold had a way of contracting not only muscles, but tendons, touching right down to the bone, making an otherwise normal person have to work twice as hard just to flex. Each step taken in the cold was a step taken with a ten pound weight strapped to his calf.
The higher they got up the mountain, the more force the elements used to beat them down. Dense gravity became their mortal enemy, manipulating wind and snow to act like darts to pierce through every single layer of clothing, and stab right through their skin.
But the lowest point of their trip would come when they found themselves facing a grade so steep that they needed a rope pulley to get over it.
Finally, on the sixth day, it was just too cold to continue at all.
“I don’t think I can go on,” said Uncle Bally. “I’m so sorry. You’ll have to continue without me. I can’t take much more pain. I’m just an old man.”
“Nothing to be sorry for,” said Julius, sounding relieved that Uncle Bally spoke up. “I think we should all rest. My legs hurt badly. How are you feeling, Jacko?”
“Like crap. I agree; let’s rest. Anything to get out of this horrible weather.”
Like wading through water, they took giant steps off the path, sinking feet deep each time they stepped toward the mountain rise. Sounds of branches breaking echoed through the trees. Every so often, a throng of snow would shake loose from a branch and blanket Jacko’s entire head.
An indescribably soft sound of relief sung out from him. In the rise, there was a five foot clear black hole.
“Do you think it’s safe?” Jacko asked his uncle.
“Give me a minute,” he replied.
He reached into his backpack and pulled out a flashlight, then disappeared into the black clearing.
“Are you okay?” he shouted into the cave.
“Yeah, come on in!”
Carefully, they walked into the darkness. Several feet in, Uncle Bally stood in the middle of an empty cave, looking quite pleased. Jacko grinned at the ceiling that rose well above their heads. They were walled in with ten feet of space, around.
“It’s perfect,” said Julius, looking just as happy as Jacko felt. He set his bag down. “I can already feel that it’s warmer in here than it is out there.”
“I’m gonna go get firewood,” said Jacko.
He set down his pack and left.
When he came back, it was to find his uncle had already gotten a fire started. Warmth of the blazes bounced off the cave walls and smothered their skin. Julius looked happy; his cheeks, rosy.
That night, Jacko relished sleeping without having to bury his head in his sack to keep in the warmth. It was a luxury to spend the entire night in slumber without constantly shivering. The next morning, when he woke, all the aches in his body had gone.
Happily, they rested the next two days in the cave. They hoped the snow would let up so they could keep hiking. The hours were spent mostly sleeping. On the third day, when they saw the snow wouldn’t let up, Julius became sullen.
“Don’t be so down,” said Uncle Bally. “You know we’ll make it.”
“I know. I’m just sick of this weather, and I keep thinking about what will happen if we run out of food while waiting, here. I know we’ll make it but I don’t want to suffer until then.”
“If we need to, we’ll send Jacko out to hunt. He’s skilled. Can you travel?” Uncle Bally asked, winking his eye.
If he meant fly off the mountain or conjure food, he was sure the answer was no. His powers still didn’t work on the mountain.
How long could a person could survive without food? He was pretty sure he’d heard two weeks, depending on a few factors including body fat ratio. Looking at Julius and his own skinny frame, he doubted they’d last that long.
When Julius left the cave for a moment, Uncle Bally asked, “Are you sure we’re still going in the right direction?”
“Yes, I’m sure. I can feel the summit like a heart. The higher up we get, the stronger the beat. We’re still a good ways off, though. My gut tells me that it’s at least a few days away, but with the snow mounting, making it safely will be a challenge. The only thing that keeps me from despair is that Julius’ dream-mother seems to know our fate.”
He pulled out his whiskey and took a sip.
“Maybe you should fly ahead, and then come back for us.”
He screwed the cap back on.
“No, I can’t. Remember, Oganat said the summit can only be found on foot. And besides, my powers seem to be limited, here. If I leave, I might have to trek all the way back.”
~~~
A few mornings later, sifting sounds echoed off the walls of the cave, calling Jacko from the mists of his mind. He tried to disappear back into the world where the sun shone again, and the Earth hadn’t had rain in weeks, but the sounds made earthquakes in his ear drums. And after each quake came the splattering. The splattering increased in frequency, followed by a huffing noise.
He rolled over and rubbed his eyes. Then like peeling an orange, he forced back his dry lids.
Repeatedly, Julius pushed and pulled at something white that blinded him for a few seconds, and then he threw the stuff into the corner of the cave.
Jacko sat up in his sleeping bag.
“Uncle Bally,” he said.
“Hm?” he groaned.
“We’re snowed in.”
For at least an hour, they pulled snow in with their hands because they only had one tiny shovel.
The cold traveled from the tips of his fingers all the way down to the middle of Jacko’s body. He could tell Julius and Uncle Bally were just as affected.
To conserve heat and wood, they reduce the size of their fire. Instead, they settled for huddling when they took breaks from digging snow.
Then Uncle Bally told them to stop.
“We need to stop just pulling all the snow away, and dig a smaller hole.”
“Why do we have to dig at all? Don’t you know any good survivalist tricks?” Jacko whined.
“What? You mean the one where we just walk through solid snow, like we’re ghosts or something? That trick?”
“This is no joke, Bally,” said Julius. “We might freeze.”
“We won’t freeze,” he said, rolling his eyes and rubbing his damp hands over the fire. “Snow provides great insulation. Haven’t you ever heard of an igloo? Right now, this cave is blockaded by so much snow that we need to focus on burrowing out a small hole. To do that, it’ll be easier if we take turns at it. The hole will be just big enough for one of us to pass through, at a time.”
“Why?” asked Jacko.
“Because if we haven’t reached the top yet, it means that there’s so much snow blocking us in that we could kill ourselves trying to get out, if we’re not careful. If we focus on digging out a smaller area, we’ll dig out a longer trail more quickly. The only problem is there’s still a chance that the weight of the snow, if it keeps dropping, could make the tunnel cave. If it should collapse on one of us, and we can’t get out in time, we might suffocate.”
He paused a moment and then continued. “On the other hand, I can’t help but think that even if we get out of here, we can’t continue in this weather and survive. There are all sorts of dangers, like avalanches, running out of food, injuring ourselves, frost bite. We might not find shelter as good as this. So we may not entirely be at a loss, though we lose time. Maybe we should think about simply waiting it out, rather than go through the trouble of digging.”
“No, Uncle Bally. You, both, can stay behind, but I can’t. I have to get to the summit. We have to try,” said Jacko. “Please, let’s keep digging.”
Digging a smaller hole didn’t speed things along, as they’d hoped. After a couple hours passed, with only a few feet of trail, they realized they needed
to burrow even smaller.
By the end of the day, they’d managed approximately 7 feet of trail with a slight incline. The diameter was merely 4 feet wide, and a tight fit especially for Uncle Bally. But they’d doubled their displacement time which made them happy, except Julius.
“I just can’t believe how many hours we spent at this,” he shouted. “We’re still stuck in here. I feel like a corpse in a coffin.”
“Don’t get riled up,” said Uncle Bally with a mouthful of smoke. “The most important thing is to stay calm. Besides, we got plenty of food, for now. We just gotta take it easy.”
“Remember your dream? We’re gonna be okay.”
“Jacko, are you crazy? If it keeps dropping feet of snow, we’ll never get out of here. As it is, we’re digging outward and not upward enough.”
“That’s the way it has to start,” said Uncle Bally, sipping his tea. “The rise of the mountain will collect the most snow because of how it’s positioned. Because of that, we need to make sure the entrance of the tunnel is going to hold. The topmost part of the snow will continue to harden, and will hopefully hold additional snow fall. Now, if we burrow too far up, disturbing the snow we hope will harden and hold, then we risk it caving, sending that much more snow in here. We’re gonna continue burrowing out, moving upward gradually. The further from the rise, the thinner the snow, and the higher up we’ll dig.”
~~~
A few days later, though they worked at the snow for many hours, they were still stuck. Their food supplies diminished, and they’d run out of ground dandelion and pine needles. But like Uncle Bally said, the snow atop hardened and held. Though they didn’t see it, they knew the snow fell speedily by the incline of their tunnel, which now tracked out for over twenty feet, and rose up by five and a half. That day, they decided to dig only upward, afraid that to burrow too far out might be to fall off the side of the mountain. And they did so successfully, only to have a minor cave in; an indication that, as Bally said, they were disturbing snow that was higher up and less compacted. As they continued to use the snow from the farthest part of the tunnel for water, it wasn’t too big of a deal.