Peak (19 page)

"Is that what this is about?" he asked. "You're mad because it's not about just you anymore?"

"It was never about me," I said. "It's always been about you."

I walked away from him, past the injured climbers, past Dietrich, past Zopa, arriving back at Base Camp a half hour before any of them. I barged into HQ, grabbed the sat phone, and punched in the number as I stomped over to my tent. Mom answered on the first ring.

"Peak."

I got a little choked up when I heard her voice, and it was a second or two before I could respond.

"Hi, Mom."

Silence. That went on so long that I thought I'd lost the connection.

"You should have told me," she finally said.

I was tempted to say that I had told her in the Moleskine, but I knew that wouldn't fly. "Sorry," I said.

"That didn't sound very sincere, but I'll accept it. How'd you do at Camp Four?" she asked quietly.

I was shocked at how calm she was. "It was hard," I answered. "But I'm good."

"Your ribs are okay?"

"A little sore, but yeah, they're fine. You're not mad?"

"Furious."

That was more like it, but she didn't sound furious. "Josh told me you were sick."

"I'm over it, but a lot of the others have it now." (Including Josh, but I didn't tell her that.)

"I know," she said. "Since I got your journal I've been surfing the Everest websites. Looks like a lot of climbers are leaving the mountain. I also read about the deaths at Camp Six."

"I walked down the mountain today with the German team leader," I told her. "His name is Dietrich."

"And how is he?"

"I don't know ... devastated, I guess."

"And how are you?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, four people died less than a mile away from you," she said, sounding a little more like my mother. "Any thoughts on that? Feelings? Reaction?"

I didn't know what to say. "I feel bad" didn't quite cut it. Mom was just getting warmed up.

"Four people died on the mountain. Human beings, Peak, with mothers, fathers, brothers, sisters, children, wives, husbands, girlfriends, boyfriends sitting at home worrying about them. By now they've gotten a phone call or an e-mail with the bad news. 'Sorry, your husband/wife/daughter isn't coming home. No, we can't retrieve a body above Camp Four. It's too dangerous...'"

I reached my tent and climbed inside.

"Let me ask you a question," she said.

"Go ahead."

"Do you think you're a better climber than the four who died?"

"No."

"Do you think you're luckier than they were?"

"I guess," I said. "I'm alive."

"That's not what I'm getting at."

"You're saying that the same thing could happen to me."

"You're not on the wall in back of our cabin or at a climbing camp. You're on Everest. People die up there, Peak. You might die."

"The guys who died weren't acclimatized," I protested. "They should have waited. They saw a break in the weather and got summit fever. They made a mistake."

"You think that means anything to those who were waiting at home for them?"

I looked up at the drawings that the two Peas had sent.

"Well?" Mom persisted.

One of the drawings was a stick figure clinging to a skyscraper with a helicopter hovering overhead. Just above the stick figure was a little blue mountain.

"I'm trying for the summit," I said. "I've gone through too much to give up now."

This was followed by a longer silence than the first.

"I wish you wouldn't do it, Peak, but I'm not surprised by the decision. I know what I would have said to my mother if I were on Everest getting ready for the climb of my life."

She rarely talked about her parents. They still lived in Nebraska and I had met them only twice. It wasn't much fun either time. They didn't approve of Mom, me, Josh, Rolf, or even the two Peas. Mom had left home right after high school and never lived there again.

"I'll be careful," I said.

"No one climbs a mountain thinking they're not coming back down."

"How are the two Peas?" I asked. "You're changing the subject."

"Yeah."

Mom sighed. "Hang on a minute."

About thirty seconds later the sat phone earpiece was filled with a pair of screaming, giggling six-year-olds.

"Where are you?"

"When are you coming home?"

"I miss you!"

"No, I miss you!"

"Did you get our letters?"

"Mommy was mad at you."

"Are you coming home for our birthday?"

This went on for a while and I just listened with a big stupid grin on my face. Until I heard them, I hadn't realized how much I missed them.

Mom finally took the phone away from them. "Okay, okay," she said. "You have to let Peak answer your questions. I'm going to put him on speakerphone. You two are going to sit there quietly. If you make one sound, the phone call's over."

I heard a click.

"I miss you, too," I said. "I'm on a big mountain called Everest. In a country called Tibet. I have your drawing hanging up in my tent. I'm looking at it right now. I'm not sure if I'm going to be there for our birthday or not. I have to get to the top of the mountain first—"

"Can I ask, Mommy?" Patrice asked.

"Yes, but only one question. Then Paula can ask a question. Then you both need to go back to the kitchen and finish breakfast or you'll be late for school."

"But—"

"No." Mom cut her off. "One question each, then back to breakfast. Do we have a deal?"

The twins reluctantly agreed.

"Did you get our other letter?" Patrice asked. "The heavy one?"

"Not yet," I said. "But I'm sure it's on its way. The mail is very slow where I am."

"My turn," Paula said. "Mommy gave your black diary to Mr. Vincent."

"I hope he likes it," I said.

"He's funny," Paula said.

"Okay, that's it," Mom said.

"But I didn't ask a question," Paula complained.

"We had a deal. Both of you go back to the kitchen."

There was some grumbling and whining, but the two Peas obeyed.

"What time is it there?"

"A little after eight in the morning."

I hadn't even thought about what time it was. Mom had probably been waiting all night for my call.

"How's Rolf?"

"He's out of town on a business trip. He'll be back tonight. And he's going to be upset that he missed your call."

Mom sighed. "Peak, I gave it my best shot to try to talk you out of trying for the summit. But now that the decision has been made, you need to focus on the task. You can't think about me, Paula, Patrice, Rolf, or anyone else. To stay alive you are going to have to think only about yourself.

"Do you know why I quit climbing?"

"Yeah," I said. "You fell from the wall in back of—"

"No," she interrupted. "I quit because of you."

"What?"

"With some work I could have gotten my climbing condition back. In fact, the reason I went for that climb the day I fell was because Josh wanted me to get back on the circuit with him. Just before I fell I was thinking about what would happen if a rattlesnake slithered up to my baby strapped in his car seat down below. If I'd been thinking about the climb I would have realized the rock I grabbed was loose before I put weight on it. To climb at Josh's level you have to be completely selfish, Peak. When you were born I couldn't do that anymore.

"I have no doubt you have the physical ability to summit Everest or any other mountain you want. But you may not have the ability to not care. For the next few weeks you have to harden yourself inside. Your guts and heart need to be stone cold.

"I didn't do a lot of high altitude when I was climbing, but I did enough to know that the thin air messes with your brain. You need to forget everything else and concentrate on the climb. You have enough experience to know when it's over. And when it's over don't take another step higher. If you do, it could be over for good. Turn around. There's no shame in it. Live to climb another day. And when you come back down I hope that good and caring heart of yours thaws. It's the most important muscle you have. I love you, Peak."

And with this she cut the connection. I don't know how long I lay there thinking about what she said, but I can tell you there were plenty of tears. As the blue light through the tent faded to dark I was still lying there when the flap opened.

It was Josh. "You have the sat phone?" I sat up. "Yeah ... sorry. I should have brought it back." I gave it to him.

"So, you talked to your mom?"

"Yes."

"One thing we need to get straight," he said. "Getting Sun-jo to the top is not a backup plan. I'm giving him a shot because I owe him and Zopa."

"What do you mean?"

"Two years ago Ki-tar saved my life."

"Sun-jo's father?"

"Up on K2."

"You're the climber who survived."

"We'd been snowed in for three days. No food, no Os, no hope of survival. I watched my climbing party die one by one until I was the only one left. I should have been next, but Ki-tar came up the mountain through the worst blizzard I've ever seen. He came alone. None of the other Sherpas would come with him. He all but carried me back down. When we got to Base we stumbled into the Aid tent. I took one cot; Ki-tar took the other. While Leah was treating my frostbite and giving me IV fluids, the man who saved my life died not four feet away from me. His heart gave out. I didn't even get a chance to thank him. I thought you ought to know."

He closed the flap and I heard his footsteps crunching through the snow as he walked away.

UNREST

BEING SELFISH AND FOCUSED
turned out not to be a problem.

After Josh dropped the K2 bomb in my tent, he dropped a second bomb on his clients. He told them about his plan to get me to the summit. I wasn't invited to the meeting, but I certainly experienced the aftermath of the explosion the next morning.

I slept late and woke up sore and famished. It had snowed a couple of feet during the night and I had to dig my way out of the tent. When I finally got to my feet and looked around I was surprised how much the camp had emptied out. (I guess I was so upset the day before I hadn't noticed.) Most of the big commercial operations were still in place, but it looked like at least a third of the smaller expeditions had pulled up stakes.

I glanced up at Captain Shek's compound and was tempted to give him a wave, but decided not to. I didn't have time for juvenile antics. I had to stay focused and disciplined if I wanted to get to the summit. Besides, I was starving and the delicious white smoke billowing from the mess tent's chimney was calling to me. Inside was food, warmth, and conversation, but I was a little worried about the conversation part. I didn't want to get too close to anyone and catch the bug that was threatening everyone's climb.

I needn't have worried about the conversation part because as soon as I stepped inside all conversation ceased. The only sound was the hiss of the gas burner and the clatter of the lid on the boiling noodle pot. There were ten people inside the tent and they were all staring at me. None of them were smiling. I would have turned around and left if I wasn't so hungry.

"Speak of the devil," the cowboy from Abilene drawled. He looked like he had lost twenty pounds since the last time I saw him. In fact, all the climbers looked like they had dropped weight. None of them were eating.

"What's going on?" I said as casually as I could with ten pairs of eyes glaring at me. I walked to the shelf and grabbed a plate.

"We're having a meeting," someone said.

"A private meeting," someone else said.

That was obvious. There wasn't a single person from HQ there. No cook. No film crew. No Sherpas.

"I'm just getting something to eat," I said. "It'll only take a minute and I'll get out of your way."

"Well," the cowboy said, "while we got you here maybe you can fill us in on when you found out your daddy was planning to put you on the top of the mountain."

What goes around comes around. Now I knew how Sun-jo must have felt the week before. I scooped a pile of noodles onto my plate, but my appetite was quickly going away.

"Not until I got over here," I hedged, then put a forkful of noodles into my mouth, hoping I wouldn't have to answer any more questions on my way out the door with my plate.

"Course you realize the noodles you're eating, the plate they're on, and maybe even the parka you're wearing were paid for by the people sitting in this mess tent."

This was an exaggeration, but he had a point, so I set my plate on the table and walked out, hoping that one of them would call me back in and say they were kidding. No one did.

The HQ tent was less hostile, but not much cheerier. Josh, Thaddeus, Leah, and the others seemed to be having a meeting of their own.

"I was just over at the mess tent," I said.

"How was their mood?" Thaddeus asked.

"Ugly."

"They'll get over it," Josh said. "It's been a rough climbing season what with the weather and everyone getting sick. I've seen it all before. As soon as we get a couple people to the top everything will be fine."

No one else in the room seemed to share his optimism, least of all Thaddeus, who said that he thought the climbers would sue Peak Experience and would probably win.

"Did you tell them about Sun-jo?" I asked.

"No," Josh said. "That would have sent them over the edge. That's our little secret, although Shek seems to have figured it out. We're going to shift everything again. Zopa, Sun-jo, Yogi, and Yash are the C team. They're still on our climbing permit, but they're on their own. Peak, you're on the A team with me. We'll divide the film crew between the teams. As soon as JR is better we'll start him filming the A and B teams. We probably won't use any of the footage, but the fact they're being interviewed for the documentary might improve their attitudes." He looked at Leah. "What's your best guess about when this virus will run its course?"

"A week, maybe longer." She looked like she was suffering from it, too. "The bigger problem is the aftereffects. Because we can't exercise and can't keep food down we're losing our conditioning. Even under ideal circumstances it will be difficult for any of us to summit."