Alphas in the Wild

by Ann Gimpel

  “Sure.” He grabbed his soup mug from where he’d set it and handed it to her.

  She settled next to him. For a time they ate in silence, sharing the cook pot between them. Food that got cold froze. “If we don’t go after him tonight, he’ll probably be dead by morning,” she murmured.

  “He may die, anyway. Concussions at altitude are usually serious.”

  She snorted. “Where’d you go to medical school?”

  He slammed a fist down on the table, startling her. “We are not going after him unless we can see. Which means this storm has to die down. I don’t mind night rescues, but I’m not going to negotiate my way up the glacier if I can’t see my hand in front of my face. We’d end up at the bottom of a crevasse.”

  She held up gloved hands. “I’m not the enemy. What you say makes sense, but I have a patient up there who may be dying—”

  “Tina, stop. Think basic triage. If we can’t do anything for him without taking on an unacceptable level of risk for ourselves, we could die. If that happens, Gunter won’t have any chance at all. Let’s concentrate on talking through your problems with the renegade god.” He pushed to his feet and picked up the empty noodle pan. “I’ll get dessert going.”

  “Crack the door before you turn on the stove.”

  “Yes, doctor.”

  She propped her head on her hand, feeling tired. Gunter was a complication they didn’t need. Yet they couldn’t ignore him. That ranked up there with climbers on Everest who marched right past dying comrades, choosing the summit over compassion. Something nagged at her. The wind. She couldn’t hear it anymore. Tina stood and went to the tent door. She peered outside, and a shiver went up her back. It was impossible, but the night sky had cleared. A half-moon and millions of stars winked against its blackness.

  It felt as if someone had socked her in the gut. Weather didn’t act like this on any other mountain. It took time, goddammit, for storms to move in, and for them to leave. She didn’t hear the hiss of the stove anymore, so she closed the tent and turned to face Craig.

  He’d just put the cook pot back on the table with their pudding in it. “What?” He raised his brows in twin question marks. “You look like someone just walked over your grave.”

  “They did. This whole thing with Gunter is nothing but a setup.”

  “Huh? Sit back down and finish your dinner. You’re not making sense.”

  She didn’t feel like sitting. “The weather,” she grunted through clenched teeth. “It’s clear as a bell out there. I can even see the stars. Doesn’t it strike you as a tad too convenient it went from storming like a sonfabitch to clear right after we get a distress call from Gunter?”

  He met her gaze, his green eyes troubled. “Sure. But I don’t get why you’re so outraged. You figured out the weather here was unnatural seven years ago.”

  She paced in a tight circle. “It’s a trap. Mururata set it for me.”

  “Well, he’s getting both of us.”

  A knife pierced her soul. Tears pricked, hot and bitter behind her lids. “I don’t want you to come with me.”

  “Noted, but you don’t have any control over my choices.” He spooned pudding into his mouth. “Come get your half of this before I eat it all.”

  “Not hungry.”

  “Doesn’t matter. I’m not usually hungry at altitude, but I eat, anyway. You know the drill, Tina. Sit your ass down here and eat. It’s going to be a long night. You need all the calories you can stuff into yourself.”

  She picked up her spoon, stood over the pot, and shoveled the rest of the pudding into her mouth. “There,” she said. “Satisfied?”

  He turned, grabbed his pack, and rummaged through it.

  “What are you doing?” she asked.

  “Getting the sat phone. I’m going to see if I can call in a rescue for Gunter. It would solve at least one problem.”

  She listened while he spoke in fractured Spanish, cursing her near-inability to learn any language but English. After a sharp exchange, he punched the end call button so viciously she thought the phone would fly out of his hand.

  “I’m guessing whatever it was isn’t good.”

  He made a rude sound and shook his head. “It’s worse than not good. The dispatcher accused me of lying about conditions. Seems it’s storming everywhere but here.”

  A small animal with sharp claws crawled up her spine. She started to shake. For a minute, she was afraid she’d puke up her dinner. How the hell could something be powerful enough to control the weather? Worse, what hope did she have against it?

  “Whoa.” He stood and pulled her against him. “I’m pretty blown away by it too. It’s like facing something impossible, something that flies in the face of everything I’ve ever believed, and having someone say, ‘Tough shit, it’s real.’”

  “I’m scared. Scratch that, I’m terrified.” Her voice was muffled against his jacket. “But no matter how I feel, this is my battle. If something happened to you—” She choked back a sob.

  “Ssht.” He tightened his hold on her. “We’re partners, remember? Climbing partners who have each other’s backs. I’m not bugging out when the going gets tough. I’m staying to see things through.”

  “But—”

  “Uh-uh. No buts. Do you honestly think I could live with myself if I sent you out to do battle alone with some esoteric monster?”

  “I-I never should’ve involved you in this. I just thought I’d piggyback onto your trip and stay here once it was over.”

  His arms tensed around her. “Why my trip? There are other operators who run expeditions to Bolivia this time of year.” She was silent so long, he prodded, “Well?”

  She wanted to scream because I never stopped loving you. Her throat thickened with suppressed emotion.

  I can’t answer him. It will just complicate things.

  To her horror, a whimpering moan ripped out of her chest, followed by another. She jerked away to pull herself together. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” She sucked in a steadying breath. “We need to get moving. Tears are an indulgence. I’m just feeling sorry for myself.”

  He had an odd look on his face, almost as if he could see into her soul. “Okay. We do need to get moving, but we’re not going until we’re clear how we’re going to do this. I started a list in my head of what we’ll need. We’re making certain we’ve got each and every piece of equipment between us.”

  Tina made over a dozen trips back and forth to the other tents, gathering ropes, ice screws, travois materials, food, and medical supplies, while Craig fashioned wands out of three foot pieces of bamboo topped with colored ribbon. Being on the move had a salutary effect. She didn’t feel as lost and desperate as she had when the night shifted from stormy to clear and the helicopter dispatcher corroborated they were trapped in the Twilight Zone.

  “There.” She dropped a final armload of gear into the mess tent. “I think that’s all of it.”

  Craig grunted, got to his feet, and picked through the piled goods. He snapped up his climbing harness and stepped into it. “You too. We’re going to rope up before we leave camp.”

  “Why? The glacier’s not for a couple of miles.” She snugged into her harness and pulled the straps tight.

  His mouth turned up in a grim approximation of a smile. “Because I want to keep track of you. I don’t trust the weather to stay benign. I had time to think while I was making enough wands to get us to where I believe Gunter is. I expect whoever’s running the show will throw everything but the kitchen sink at us as soon as we get clear of camp. I aim to be ready.”

  He looked so determined, it made her heart ache. She picked her words with care. “I’m hoping we’ll find Gunter alive. Once I’ve done what I can to stabilize him and you’re safely away, I—”

  “Not on your life, sister. We face this together. All of it. End of discussion. Let’s split the gear down the middle, pack up, and get this choo-choo moving.”

  Tina recognized the stubborn set of h
is chin, and the light dancing in the back of his eyes radiated danger. “What would you do if I said no?”

  “Deck you. Sit watch over you until the bastard who wants you shows up, and take him on.”

  She squared her shoulders and faced him. “Thanks.”

  “You’d do the same for me.”

  A slow smile spread over her face. “Yes—” she nodded “—I would.”

  Chapter Seven

  Craig tied himself into his end of the rope. On one hand, it felt ridiculous. The night was clear and cold. A three-quarter moon shed enough light he didn’t even need his headlamp. It had taken less than fifteen minutes to load their packs and get moving. He glanced behind him. “You good?”

  “Yup. Lead out. I let Xavier run loose. At least that way if things don’t go well—”

  “They’ll be fine,” he broke in. Giving voice to negative thoughts was never a good idea, and the mule had a scrappy temperament. He’d probably make his way back to his owners in Estancia Una.

  “We should come across Gunter in an hour. Did you radio him?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “How’d he sound?”

  “Weak, but not disoriented. Maybe his head injury’s not all that bad.” Craig looped the rope through a gloved hand and started uphill. She muttered something. “What?” he called over a shoulder. “I didn’t catch what you said.”

  “We deserve a break.”

  He started to tell her things didn’t work like that. Not in the mountains where surprises were mostly of the negative variety, but he bit his tongue. Craig forced himself to glance at the high alpine vista bathed in moonlight.

  He’d always loved the pristine quality of endless snowfields at night. He felt more comfortable here than in his living room. All significant climbs began between ten at night and one in the morning. Snow was much more stable when it was cold. Less likely to avalanche or send boulders tumbling down steep slopes. The Himalaya were an exception. It was so cold on eight thousand meter peaks, climbers often didn’t start uphill until closer to dawn.

  He listened to Tina’s boots crunching along behind him, separated by fifty feet of rope. He’d brought nearly four hundred feet with them, the hundred-ninety-eight foot length linking him to Tina plus one more just like it. One would be used to fashion part of the travois to move Gunter down the mountain.

  Craig stopped, tapped in a wand, and activated the GPS to mark its placement. Tina knew to stop when the rope between them went slack. In moments, he was on the move again. With each step, he checked off an item in his head. Best be sure about what they had before they were so far from the tents going back was less of an option. He set his mouth into a grim line. His obsessiveness had saved his ass on more than one occasion.

  Once he was satisfied they had everything on his list, he relaxed the iron grip on his thoughts. They immediately turned to Tina. It felt so good to hold her in his arms again. More than good—incredible. The years hadn’t changed her a bit. If anything, she was more beautiful than she’d been long ago. Her eyes were such a dark blue, they reminded him of a Rocky Mountain sky at sunset.

  She hadn’t answered when he asked why she’d chosen to come to Bolivia with him, but he thought he knew the answer. Tina had come to South America convinced she was going to die on the slopes of Illimani. They’d been close once. Maybe she hadn’t found anyone else she felt as safe with in the years they’d been apart. She didn’t wear a ring, so he was pretty certain she wasn’t married. He’d itched to ask if she had a husband or a lover, but hadn’t. It wasn’t any of his business. Even if she did, she’d chosen to spend what she feared might be her last hours with him, not a mythical husband, lover, or boyfriend.

  He was certain she’d loved him once. Maybe she could feel that way again. The attraction between them still burned bright.

  I don’t know that, his common sense voice butted in.

  Not on her side, anyway. For all I know, her invitation to have sex was just because she thought it would be the last time.

  He breathed deep and urged the cold, thin air to quiet his thoughts. He needed the calm, rational objectivity that brought him home unscathed. He’d always been a lucky climber. He didn’t talk about those things, though. Mountaineers risked their necks over and over. They understood luck was part of the game. And a pretty large one at that.

  Tina’s voice sounded from behind. “We should put on crampons. It’s steepening and I just slipped sideways on some ice.”

  He stopped walking and turned toward her, careful to keep the rope out from under his feet. “Sure.” He glanced at the altimeter on his multi-function watch. “About two hundred more feet to Nido de Condores.” He tapped in another wand and marked its placement with the GPS. So long as his electronics didn’t crap out, he didn’t need the wands. They were a backup system. What he’d used before the advent of the fancy GPS devices.

  She came up beside him, coiling rope as she moved close. “I know. We’re making good time.” She barked a short laugh. “Funny, I didn’t expect the clear weather to hold this long.”

  “Me, either. Let’s make hay while we can.” He shucked his pack and pulled his crampons from one of the outer pockets. Buckling them with mitts on was nearly impossible. He sat on his pack, fitted the steel spikes to his boots, and attached them as fast as he could. “Brrrrr” He shoved his hands back into his mitts, sighing when their residual warmth soothed his aching fingers.

  “Cold and clear. Doesn’t get much better than that for climbing.” Tina bent to put on her crampons. “I got this newer kind with snap buckles. Don’t have to take off my gloves.”

  “I looked at those. Then I went home and counted how many pairs I already own. It was hard to justify a couple hundred bucks for what would have made the twenty-fifth set. They never wear out.”

  She laughed. He loved how she tossed her head and the musical quality of her laughter. “Are you still sharpening them yourself?”

  “You bet. Still making my own climbing hardware too.”

  “Chomoly pitons?”

  He grinned. “Yup. I still have the set I made for you.”

  “You always reminded me of a Renaissance man. So self-sufficient...” Her voice trailed off. “Someone’s been trying to talk with me.”

  His pulse sped up. He batted down apprehension—and hope—flaring in his chest. “For how long?”

  “Since we were just a few minutes out of camp. I’m not certain who, but I don’t think it’s Mururata. I know what he sounds like. These voices are different.”

  “Can you understand them?”

  “No. They’re speaking something that sounds like a cross between Aymara and Spanish. Though it’s hard to be sure, it seems like they’re pissed because I’m using English to communicate.”

  Craig slitted his eyes. “Makes sense. If it’s Illimani or Illampu, they’d speak whatever the native tongue used to be here.” He jumped to his feet, unable to sit still. “Those legends you read came from somewhere. There must’ve been a time when the spirits and human inhabitants of these parts were able to communicate.” He took two steps to where she sat and clapped her on the shoulder. “Maybe leaving your blood back there was a better idea than I thought.”

  She twisted her lips into a tight smile. “I hope so. I don’t want to die. Or turn into some warped paramour for Mururata. Some things are worse than dying. That’s one of them.”

  He hunkered next to her and took her hands in his. “I will not let that happen.”

  She gazed at him through the clear lenses of her goggles. “Let’s play this one again from the top. If you’re thinking of bargaining with him and offering yourself in my place, forget it.”

  “Tina. I will do whatever I think needs doing. I won’t know what it is until we’re in the thick of things. This is a lot like climbing. Spontaneity and flexibility, eh?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Ach, you’re impossible.”

  “Watch it. Your Scottish roots are bleeding through. Come on.” He
stood and held out a hand to help her up.

  She shouldered her pack and turned to face him, running the rope between her hands to straighten it. “You asked me why I chose your trip. It’s because if these are going to be my last hours on earth—or my last as a human before that monster gets hold of me—I wanted to spend them with you.”

  His heart leapt. He wound his arms around her, clumsy because of her backpack. “Tina. Darling. My love,” he whispered against the hood covering her hair. Joy swooshed through him, so bright it could’ve lit a small town. There was still hope for them.

  “Hey, you’re tangling the rope.”

  “My ever-practical doctor.”

  “Yep, that would be me.” She leaned into him and kissed him gently before pushing away. “We need to get moving. I just thought I ought to tell you in case— Well, in case something happens and I don’t get another chance.”

  He looped the rope around an arm and walked close beside her. “When did you— Uh, I mean, how long have you—”

  She laughed. “I knew I made a mistake not marrying you the first time I went climbing without you. It just felt so empty and lonely without you next to me. I’ve done mostly solo climbing since we split up. Never found anyone who fit with me anywhere near as well as you. They were too slow, or too inept, or too arrogant. Part of staying alive up here is just what you said. Being flexible and not clinging to a plan that isn’t working anymore.”

  “Why didn’t you hunt me down?”

  She shrugged. “Pride, mainly. I kept myself too busy to think about it most of the time.”

  Sudden understanding blossomed, but he needed to hear her say it. “That’s not all.”

  “What? Is everybody on this mountain psychic?”

  “You’re hedging. You’d only been back from South America for a few weeks when I asked you to marry me. I thought about it a lot when I was climbing in the Vinson Range in Antarctica. Came back convinced you were the only woman for me and there was no reason to wait.”

  She nodded. “I am hedging. Truth is I was still reeling from what happened here. It was so off-the-wall I didn’t know where to compartmentalize it. And I was in the middle of my second year of residency. Not sure if you remember, but I was assigned to an inner city hospital, and it was tough. Who would’ve thought Denver had gang wars? Whoops. Sorry.” She bent to pull the rope out of a crampon point.