The Island

by Daya Daniels

  I practically fall out laughing at the awkward interaction.

  Sebastian rushes toward Hugo again only to find he’s held back by many, many hands.

  “I’m leaving.” Hugo folds his arms across his chest.

  “The hell you bloody are!” Sebastian yells. “We paid your company more than what your house likely costs for you to be here.”

  Hugo points to his shoulder where he’d incurred the injury he’s now suffering from, then glares at Sebastian. “Yeah, and I’ve hurt myself. I cannot climb like this. What do you not understand, you fucking imbecile?”

  My jaw is set tight and my eyes swing between a red-faced Sebastian and Hugo, who in my opinion has a fair point.

  “It’s a SCRATCH!” Sebastian lunges forward once more.

  I press my palm to the center of Sebastian’s chest, hoping to earn his attention.

  “I’m leaving.” With the toss of his hair, Hugo grabs the satphone and mutters words into the receiver no one here seems to be able to understand. “I’ve already phoned down the mountain for a ride away from this place.” He points over to the two dead bodies on the ground. “And surely you want to get them out of here too.”

  Sebastian promises to calm down before he’s released, so after a few beats pass, the other climbers who had prevented him from murdering Hugo, let him go and back away hesitantly.

  “Be cool,” I say to Sebastian, earning a terse nod from him.

  “So, do we get a refund for the work you haven’t done?” Sebastian questions.

  Hugo points a finger at him. “Don’t you forget, I did get you this far.”

  Sebastian’s eyes almost fall out of his head. “This is not the top of the mountain!”

  Hugo walks off in the direction of the dead bodies on the ground. We follow. Sebastian is still raving about the money we’ve paid Excelsior.

  “I was responsible for this man and this woman.” Hugo’s eyes well up with tears. “Do you know how I feel that they’ve died on my watch?” He digs a finger into his chest. “Now, I have to go and explain to their families how they perished doing something I instructed them to do.” A tear slips from his right eye.

  “I DON’T CARE ABOUT THAT!” Sebastian roars. “This-is-what-we-do! This is what happens sometimes! We take risks and sometimes people die!” He inches closer to Hugo.

  Stepping forward to break up another potential fight, I snatch Sebastian by the collar of his thick sweater. “Shut the fuck up.”

  Sebastian’s eyes are wild as he regards me. “The money, Kai.”

  I jerk my head in the direction of Hugo, who’s muttering the Lord’s Prayer.

  I wait for him to finish.

  He wipes his tears when he’s done and meets my eyes. “The policy with Excelsior is that there are no refunds.”

  I let Sebastian go.

  Hugo holds a shaky, terrified-as-fuck hand up. “But, they are sending up another guide.”

  Good, because this clearly isn’t working out.

  Sebastian pauses his stride at Hugo’s declaration.

  “I am leaving,” Hugo says. “I’ll take the bodies down with me when I go, and Excelsior won’t charge you for the helicopter ride.”

  “This sonofabitch.” Sebastian regards me with pure horror in his eyes. “Is this how we do things?” He lifts a hand. “We were just getting used to this idiot. Now, they are going to send someone new?” His brows collide.

  Igor suddenly appears behind us, wiping the sleep from his red eyes. He doesn’t say a word to interject, only stands there like a buffoon watching the confusion.

  “Who is this person Excelsior is sending?” Sebastian’s eyes narrow.

  “A woman,” Hugo states.

  The distant sound of a helicopter’s rotors have us all searching the sky.

  “A woman?” Sebastian frowns.

  Did I forget to mention that my best friend is a sexist pig?

  “Yes, a woman.” Hugo stands straighter, clutching his injured shoulder.

  Sebastian tosses his hand up. “They’ve traded us one woman for another.”

  Igor snickers.

  So do the rest of us.

  In the last hour, the air has grown cooler and the sky has darkened.

  Looking around, I decide we’ve most definitely been here for far too long.

  This mountain isn’t friendly to people who overstay their welcome on her flanks. She just might have plans to send an avalanche our way and snuff us all out for the houseguests who won’t leave that we are.

  I shove my hands in my pockets.

  The four of us ignore the chatter a few feet away coming from the new group that’s joined us at base camp. The climbers who are already here welcome them with open arms, hugging, laughing, and smiling.

  Sebastian regards the encounter with a pissed-off expression.

  Winston steps out of his tent wearing a pair of boxer briefs and boots. The very low sound of Led Zeppelin’s “Stairway to Heaven” echoes from his tent. Winston strolls past us, gifting us with the sight of his half-naked frame as he heads my way. When he makes it over to me, he taps me on the shoulder a few times, hard. “Old boy, how are ya?” He sets off again, making his way over the scree and larger rocks, tossing me a wave before he stops to take a piss.

  “I’m fine, Winston.” I keep my head low and bounce a little from the chill.

  Sebastian’s rage disappears completely when he beholds Winston and his missing attire. “What the fuck?” He chuckles, splaying a palm open, gesturing in Winston’s direction.

  I lift a shoulder.

  Igor is still rubbing his eyes.

  “It’s freezing.” Sebastian’s gaze remains on Winston.

  “I don’t think there will be any problems.” Igor lifts a finger. “But there might be one.” He points in the direction we’ll hopefully be moving in tomorrow, after we cry goodbye to the good food here like fresh goat and strawberries and scream hello to dry oats and beef jerky. Igor swallows back his words and shakes his head.

  My brows knot.

  “This woman...” Igor clears his throat for way longer than is probably necessary. “She knows how to climb. She’s been to the summit seven times already. She holds the record for being the only woman to summit K2 that many times and without oxygen. She knows this mountain better than the rest of us probably know our own assholes.”

  What?

  I shake my head.

  It’s long been legend that K2 has been cursed for womenfolk since the first four ladies who attempted and even had gotten to the top perished before they could make it off this bitch. Since then, a few have summited and have lived. Clearly, this woman too is a testament that maybe the curse has been broken.

  The huff that leaves Sebastian yanks me back to the present.

  Waiting, the three of us stare in the same direction, where the helicopter hovers above us. Igor remains silent. Only swallows thickly, like we’re about to be graced with the presence of King Kong.

  Sebastian steps closer to Igor. “Do we know her?” His eyes flicker to mine, then back to Igor’s.

  Folding his arms across his chest, Igor shakes his head. “I-I-I don’t know. But honestly, I doubt it.”

  Sebastian’s mouth opens, then he shuts it once more.

  Finally...

  Igor points up to our right at the Sikorsky descending from the sky. Sebastian starts with his rambling once more, but his questions are drowned out by the whirring of the rotors. He stares at me blankly when the helicopter finally sets itself down.

  Judging by the weather, it’s already been a risk for them to fly up here. The rotors slow but don’t stop spinning. The two dead porters are transported into the helicopter. Hugo makes his way toward it and jumps in with a bit of assistance. He doesn’t bother to say goodbye or good luck to anyone. Only shuts the doors.

  Sebastian observes the action with bewilderment and inches closer to me. “Do you think you know her?”

  With narrowed eyes fixed on the helo ahead, I
lift a shoulder.

  The glass that encloses the Sikorsky’s cockpit is tinted, obscuring who’s inside it. Only shadows come into view, but with the light moving overhead, occasionally, I catch something I can make out. Cocking my head left then right, I squint. The pilot speaks into his mic. He laughs for a split second with the human shape who sits in the passenger seat. Sebastian grumbles something I can’t quite make out because my focus is on the bird that’s infiltrated our base camp.

  Spinning around, a huff leaves me when I catch notice of more climbers filtering into this base camp. Now, there must be at least sixty or seventy-odd people here split between several separate expeditions. My worry only increases that we’ll all be taking the same route when the weather clears.

  “There are too many climbers here,” Sebastian whispers.

  I only nod in response.

  The helicopter rotors are still spinning. We wait patiently for whoever is inside to emerge from it.

  In a few seconds, snow flurries are cascading down from the sky and it’s becoming grayer right before my eyes and leaving a chill behind it, which dusts my flesh with goose bumps. The peak above is now completely obscured from my vision, but the outline of the Baltoro Glacier quickly comes into view, showing its beauty even under the shadow of thick clouds.

  With a whistle and one more disinterested wave, Winston makes his way slowly past us and disappears back into his tent, offering up not one minute to take interest in all the action taking place around us.

  Startling me, Tyrone’s hand lands on my shoulder. “What’s going on, man?”

  “Nothing,” I say softly. “Nothing we can’t handle. But there’s been a slight change of plans...” I tilt my head in his direction. “We’re getting a new guide.”

  Igor is already heading toward the helicopter. A bright smile lights up his face as he opens the passenger side door.

  “A new guide?” Confusion is scribbled all over Tyrone’s face. “Is that going to be a problem? I was just getting used to Hugo.” He rubs his jaw.

  Can no one see that Hugo has been hurt!

  “You know me, man...all these last-minute changes throw the fuckin’ feng shui of the situation off for me. I believe in bad luck and shit.”

  “Do you have to talk about that right now, Tyrone?” Sebastian growls.

  Tyrone laughs. “I’m just kidding, man. But we need to get moving. We’ve been stuck down here for long enough.” He taps me on the shoulder and jogs back over in the direction of where Musa and Gilda are having an animated conversation with the new climbers who have arrived.

  My head swings back in the direction of the helicopter.

  Igor backs away from the door.

  A head pops out.

  My face scrunches at the sight that’s a short distance away from me and at what it does to my insides when I see it. It sounds so fucking cliché to say it takes my breath away, but it truly does.

  I crane my neck a little, hoping to see more, but not yet.

  Then, she emerges completely.

  And it’s incredible, confusing, goddamn infuriating.

  Excelsior hadn’t just sent a new guide, they’d sent someone who just might jeopardize this entire expedition! How is any man supposed to concentrate with a face like this around! They’ll be falling off the mountain left and right!

  A hot feeling of rage courses through me.

  I’m focused on her movements, which are graceful, but yet still harsh and rough.

  She possesses a beautiful head of thick, sun-kissed auburn hair. Most of it is covered up by a knit hat, but the locks I can see drape past her shoulders like silky strands of fire. The rest of her is cloaked by a black down jacket zipped right up to her neck, pants, and boots.

  “I don’t know her.” Sebastian hums.

  “Neither do I.” I chew on my bottom lip, concerned.

  The woman who’s just arrived with the fire-red hair doesn’t smile, laugh, or make small talk with Igor. Only gives him a terse nod.

  When he offers to take her huge rucksack, which must hold everything in it besides her Honda Civic, she shakes her head in refusal, hoists it over her shoulder as if it weighs nothing, and marches away from the helicopter. When she backs away, she gives the pilot a signal with her fingers in a counter clockwise motion, and the bird takes off. It shoots up to the sky, veers left in a dip, then it’s gone.

  The nameless woman marches over to the communications tent without giving anyone else in her vicinity so much as a glance. I keep my eyes on her and soon she disappears through the tent flaps, no doubt eager to develop a new strategic plan with Ollie, the base camp manager.

  Sebastian exhales. “A goddamn woman. My God...we’re all going to die.”

  Annika

  HOME. SWEET. HOME.

  I’m here in the flesh, locked and loaded for a five-week ascent of this beast.

  As soon as I step inside the tent, the putrid scent of cigarettes assaults my nostrils, making me feel as though I’m no longer out in the cool mountain air.

  It all yanks me back to a time when I was last on this mountain...

  I vowed I’d never be back.

  In all my forty years I don’t think I’ve ever broken a promise, not even to myself, but this one I just can’t seem to stick to.

  I must be here.

  But, just so you know, I hate this place. I can’t stand the very ground my boots are on top of. I can’t bear to look at the peak that looms just above where we are.

  I

  hate

  this

  bitch.

  And no matter how long I stayed away, as always, the pull is there. The desire to climb. The aching need to be as close to the clouds as possible. The desperation to, as Jimi says it... “Kiss the sky.”

  It never goes away.

  Never.

  And although life these days is far different than the way it used to be, I still thrive in the company of people, especially in the vicinity of other climbers.

  We share an understanding...

  Firstly, a love of the outdoors and how the day-to-day life of going to work a nine-to-five desk job doesn’t quite suit our souls. I need to be outside in the air, under the blue sky along with the warm sun and floating along with the cries of the birds and with the wind.

  I could never hunker down anywhere for too long.

  Not until Jesse came along...

  The fire of my life. The pulsing star in my universe. My love.

  A tiny breath leaves me.

  A month ago, I quit my job at the university after I’d been offered another in a faraway and distant land. A place I never considered living. I entertained the possibility of embracing change. I’m not quite sure how I feel about it yet...

  I’ve signed no agreements.

  I’ve made no promises...

  I packed up the residual of what I owned after selling most of it and sent what was left to a good friend of mine, Ainsley, who lives a world away in London with her daughter, Melanie, after her recent divorce from the last asshole she married. I emptied the only house I’ve ever lived in back in Colorado Springs and flew straight here to Pakistan.

  I’d spent the last few summers living among the red sandstone rock climbing the Garden of the Gods, Black Canyon, and in Rocky Mountain National Park.

  The drone of a raspy Scottish voice pulls me from my thoughts. It confirms the man who seems to permanently live in here is in the middle of a phone call.

  In the semi-darkness, I make my way past boxes of supplies, computer monitors, and radio equipment until I’ve almost made it all the way to the back where there’s more junk.

  Three tables are side by side. One is covered in colorful crumpled maps. The other is littered with empty beer bottles and ashtrays filled with smoked cigarettes. The next one is covered in extra climbing equipment: boots, harnesses, carabiners, pitons, and oxygen tanks for those who will need it. It’s all piled up on there like it’s on sale.

  Although this mountain is c
onsidered a “no oz” mountain, some climbers do use it to be on the safe side. Altitude sickness starts at 8,000 meters—26,246 feet—and you never know how your body will react to moving up higher in the atmosphere with the ascent. Not taking oxygen along on your climb could be a deadly decision. One I had personally lived to witness...

  Despite that it appears Ollie must be the most disorganized base camp manager on earth, it’s really quite the opposite. I’d trust this man with my life, and I’ve done just that in the past many times...

  On Kangchenjunga.

  On Annapurna.

  On Everest.

  Groaning, I accept how exhausted I feel after leaving Islamabad at the last minute when Cassian, the owner of Excelsior, called to tell me what had happened to one of his guides. He practically begged me to make my way here to base camp, speeding up my schedule since I’d planned to conquer this bitch on my own in the next two weeks anyways. At least now, I’ll be summiting on someone else’s dime and not using the last few of my own.

  I guess we all win.

  I spot Ollie before he sees me. A half-smoked cigarette bobs between his lips and his hair is a mess. On top of that, he looks as though he hasn’t bathed in a while.

  Same old Ollie...

  “Ollie!” I pull my knit hat off and shove it in my jacket pocket.

  He shoots up from his seat and nearly falls over. “Annika!”

  I smile at his excitement.

  He rushes over to me and pulls me into a fierce hug, dusting my clothes with the rusty scent of him while he’s at it. When he pulls away, I get a good look at his frame and mug. He’s aged a little bit, but his heart is still beating and he’s still on earth. That’s always a good sign...

  “Annika.” Breathless, he pulls me in for another big hug. “I haven’t seen you in foreverrrrr!”

  I tap him on the shoulder until he’s content with all the love he’s shown me.

  Giggling, I wriggle out of his hold. I make my way over to the table of maps and find a seat, kicking my legs out, making myself comfortable. The air is thick with questions, statements, declarations. Neither one of us utters a syllable for a good five minutes. Ollie stands in front of me, hands in pockets, hands out, hands back in again.