Leaving Everest

by Westfield, Megan

“I’m here. I’m right here,” I said, my voice as rough as Tinkerbell’s tongue against my jacket. I didn’t even know if I keyed my mic. Or if his voice was real in the first place.

  A dog barked. The sound was so close that I startled and jolted against Doc. But then the sound morphed into the spine-tingling yell of a yeti. Not the happy Yellow Yeti on our jackets, but the real, horrible, dirty white yeti, baring its gorilla-like fangs and growling. Was I hallucinating? Unbearably humid air raged across me like I was lying on the beach in Thailand. A tsunami was coming, the waves growing taller and taller. I cowered into Doc.

  “We just have to get through till morning,” I whispered in my non-voice to the unresponsive Doc. “The guys will come get us, and you’ll get that helicopter ride you’ve always wanted.”

  My headlamp beam was dimming, crowning shorter as the blackness crept in. With my left hand, I managed to click it off to preserve what little power was left, and then everything went black again.

  I was so, so tired. And I was hot. Like sunburn hot. But all over my body. Inside my body, too.

  Stay awake at all costs, Dad had said. But I’d let myself drift out of consciousness.

  Water.

  I was dying of thirst, and I couldn’t feel my hands. If I survived the night, I’d have no hands left. They’d have to be amputated from the frostbite. I wouldn’t have toes, either. I’d probably lose my nose. If I didn’t survive, I hoped Dad would push my body off the side into Tibet as the Winslowe Expedition team made their summit bid. If he didn’t, I would end up as one of those corpses climbers used as a landmark, forever frozen in the exact body position they had died in.

  My regret was singular. Luke.

  For not being brave enough to take a chance on the person I loved until it was too late. For being so self-centered and careless with his heart. That he would never know that I had changed my mind about coming to Washington with him.

  Stay awake at all costs.

  My will was fading. Already faded. Was this dying?

  I couldn’t be dying yet because my clothing was suffocating me. I sat up. The wind was oddly still. No wonder I was so hot. I’d just ventilate a little bit.

  As I pulled my parka zipper down, I was vaguely aware that the wind wasn’t really still and that I shouldn’t be hot right now.

  My hand paused on my breastbone. Right next to my breast pocket, where the unread letter from my mother was.

  Do whatever you have to do to stay awake.

  Reading the letter. That would get my adrenalin going. My fingers were like frozen fish sticks, but I managed to get the envelope out of my pocket. I gripped it tightly, biting little pieces off the top until I had enough to pull the letter out.

  This time, I had no reaction to the pink stationery. I realized I was looking at it without having clicked my headlamp on. Visibility had improved, and there was light bleeding through the clouds from the moon.

  I couldn’t see well enough to read the words without the light, so I clicked on my headlamp.

  Emily,

  First: I am sorry. For who I was and for who I was not. An apology will never be enough, but I owe it to you. I’d say it a hundred times more. A thousand.

  I did a twelve-step program in prison. Making amends is one of the steps. That’s how I’m able to have a relationship with my parents again. But apologies are not the same thing as amends, and I knew you wanted nothing to do with me. Once I got out, I did the only thing I thought could possibly help you. I moved in with Dad and Mom to save money, and I work two jobs so I can help cover the remainder of your Townsend College bills.

  When I heard you’d changed your mind about coming back to Port Townsend, I knew I had to at least try to contact you. It’s presuming a lot to think I might be the reason, but just in case, I figured now is the time to apologize to you directly.

  I follow you as closely as I can through Greg’s communications with Dad and your Circumference account. I’m incredibly proud of who you’ve become. You are all Greg. All of the things that I loved about him. You’re even a mountain climber, too.

  I know better than to hope you’d ever be willing to have a relationship with me now, but if you are, I’m here.

  Amy

  A letter like this should be a dream come true. A girl’s long-lost mother apologizes and assures her she still wants her. Or you’d think it would make me angry, like when Dad had given it to me in the first place. Instead, I simply felt nothing, like the cold had numbed my emotions just like it had my body.

  The wind wanted to grab the paper and carry it away, but I resisted its pull, crumpling it best I could into an outer pocket.

  I wanted to reread it later.

  I would reread it later.

  This mountain wasn’t going to be the last of me. I wasn’t going to die here. I wasn’t going to give in that easily. I might fail, but at least I’d fight to the end. I had other mountains to climb. With Luke. And cookies to bake in a real kitchen in my little white bungalow.

  I was still suffocating in the heat, but I knew it was an illusion from hypothermia. I gritted my teeth and zipped my parka back up.

  I thought about Luke-From-My-Dream, beckoning me to the stairs.

  I’m following. I’m coming, I said to him. I will do anything for you.

  I continued to fight the urge to tear off my down jacket. Instead, I rubbed my legs with all my might. I blew hot air down the neck of my jacket and ratcheted down the cinch on my hood now that I wasn’t wearing the oxygen mask anymore.

  I noticed then that it wasn’t delirium making me think the winds had died down; they really had. If they stayed this way and I could make it to camp, then Norbu would get a fresh team with oxygen and a splint up to Doc immediately.

  I examined her chest, which was still rising and falling. Barely.

  I knew definitively. Leaving her was her only hope.

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  I rolled over to my side, then planted an ice screw and tied one end of my spare line to it. It was a bad knot, but it wasn’t meant to catch me. It was just a pointer back to Doc.

  With a Herculean effort, I stood.

  I didn’t say good-bye to Doc because it wasn’t good-bye. I refused to think otherwise.

  Controlling my own body was like trying to move an Avatar by telepathy. Or walking on prosthetics for the first time.

  I’d gotten only about five steps when I saw something ahead, sticking out of the snow. My heart lurched. A body. Luke’s body.

  My vision cleared a little, and I let out my breath with relief. It wasn’t a body, it was an ice ax.

  Luke is not here, I reminded myself.

  The ice ax wasn’t just any ice ax, it was my ice ax, which was a sign I was walking in the right direction.

  Ahead, the cloud bank was thicker. I summoned the confidence from finding the ax and stepped into the cloud bank. The darkness enveloped me.

  All I had was the feel of the slope beneath my feet. I took one careful step at a time, making sure each foot landed directly down the fall line. And with each step, I repeated a mantra: save Doc, get to Luke.

  When I ran out of line, I planted pickets, one every ten steps. Then I ran out of pickets. I started blowing my whistle, once each step. Save Doc, get to Luke, whistle.

  My whistles were weak because of my shallow, oxygen-deprived breathing, and they went unanswered. I tried not to panic. I tried not to think about the Kanchenjunga Face and the possibility of walking straight off it if I got turned around badly enough. Or how I might never see Luke again.

  Then, like a dream, there was shouting. At the same time, on my radio, someone was calling to Jim that they were hearing whistles.

  I stopped walking and kept whistling.

  Then, there were lights. Three of them. And out of the murky cloud bank stepped Hulk, Norbu, and Phurba.

  I wanted to collapse in relief, but I couldn’t. Not yet.

  My brain was numb and my body stiff as they guided me toward Camp Four wh
ere Thom, Tyler, Theo, Ang Dawa, and Dawa Lama were waiting.

  I mumbled directions about the rope and the pickets. “She’s breathing. Needs oxygen, now. And morphine. Hurry.”

  Norbu, Hulk, and Phurba left immediately.

  “My radio’s busted,” I said hoarsely to the guys left in front of me.

  “You don’t say,” Theo said.

  “Can I have someone’s?”

  “What?” Theo asked.

  “Radio.”

  Tyler handed me his to use.

  “Dad, this is Emily.”

  “Emily! I’m here.”

  “Is Luke with you?”

  “Yes. Right next to me.”

  “Okay,” I breathed. “I’m at Camp Four. They’re going for Doc right now. And Luke, I love you, and I’m coming to Washington.”

  I was aware of nothing more until I awoke inside a tent rich with afternoon sunlight. Doc’s and Claudia’s sleeping bags were gone, but someone had been taking care of me, because there was an unfrozen cup of tea in the corner where I wouldn’t knock it over in my sleep.

  Hulk popped his head in. “Good, you’re up. Feeling okay?”

  I nodded.

  My shoulder radiated with pain, and my hands were laying in bowls of water. They hurt like an MF; so did my feet. But this was a good thing—a sign frostbite hadn’t completely taken them.

  “You, Phurba, and I are the last ones up here,” he said. “Think you can make it down to Camp Three?”

  I didn’t want to get up and leave the warm tent and comfortable sleeping bag. Compared to being alone and exposed high on the shoulder of Everest, Camp Four felt like a plush, safe hotel in the middle of a city. In reality, though, it was in the Death Zone and a dangerous place to linger.

  Then I remembered.

  “Doc!”

  “The guys in Camp Two got her on a medevac helicopter to Kathmandu about an hour ago.”

  “How’s she doing?”

  “Rough, but she has her spirits.”

  I relaxed. That was a good sign. “And the others? Where is Luke?”

  “Ah, Luke,” he said with a knowing smile. “He’s safe at Base Camp. As for the others, Juan’s doing okay. He’s in Camp Three. Norbu and the guys were able to lower him down the Lhotse Face. He’ll need a medevac tomorrow unless we’re able to get his boots on. All the other clients made it to Camp Two today.”

  I’d get more details later, but for now, I had to get going so we could make it to Camp Three before nightfall. I pushed myself up and took survey of my hands. Hulk and the others had done an excellent job in treating them despite being thrashed and exhausted themselves. My fingers seemed to be okay except for some dark patches along my pinky fingers and the tops of my index fingers.

  It was the same with my feet: there were some black patches that I would have to watch carefully for months to come, but nothing that would prevent me from moving right now. Last night had seemed to last an eternity, but in reality Doc and I had been without oxygen for only about four hours, and that was a saving grace.

  Hulk helped me make an arm sling to take the weight off my dislocated shoulder, and I took a double dose of ibuprofen. We set out for Camp Three, where Phurba, Hulk, and I shared the last remaining tent in our camp. Poor Phurba’s eyes were so puffy and dark that he looked like he’d been in a fight, and Hulk could barely keep his eyes open.

  Guiltily, I realized neither of them had gotten more than an hour or two of sleep last night, perhaps none at all, so I volunteered to make the water for tonight. They passed out almost immediately after drinking it, and I was right behind them.

  The next morning, Hulk, Phurba, and I made quick work of the Lhotse Face. The two of them lingered in Camp Two to help with the last of the clients but insisted I keep going because of my shoulder, so I continued down the Western Cwm for Camp One, where I’d wait until the wee hours of the next morning for the final trip through the icefall to Base Camp. If I had ten-thousand dollars to my name right now, I’d spend every penny of it to hire a helicopter to fly me down to Base Camp. I needed to know the details of how Doc was doing at the hospital in Kathmandu. And I was desperate to get back to Luke. I would not be at ease until I could see him with my own eyes and know for absolutely sure he was okay. That we were going to be okay.

  Despite the torturous wait to see him, the beauty of the day was not lost on me. It was a flawless mountain morning with the sun sparkling on the snow and a light breeze keeping the temperature in check. The Western Cwm was a magnificent place, with its impossibly steep walls rising several thousand feet on three of four sides. It was like being an ant in the bowl of one of those old-fashioned metal snow shovels, held up high for the best view of the Himalayas in the world.

  Directly ahead was the stately profile of my sweetheart Pumori, glistening in the sunlight. The crisp air filled my lungs, and the creaks of my boots were the quiet metronome of my brisk pace. God, I was hooked on this. Being here alone and free in this vast beauty. Feeling powerful. Loved. Safe. Lucky.

  Yes, I was tashi, indeed.

  Overcome with thankfulness, I lifted my face to the sun and gave a prayer of gratitude. Gratitude for both Doc and I having survived the night in the Death Zone. Gratitude for the conditions being a thousand times better than they could have been. Gratitude for Amy’s letter and how reading it had given me the extra bit of oomph I needed to steel myself against the elements and start toward Camp Four. Gratitude for having been given another chance—infinite chances—to be in places like this again.

  I decided then that I would write Amy back. Probably not right away, but eventually, after I was completely settled in Seattle. I didn’t know that I’d ever reach a place where I could be around her in person, but I could give letters a try.

  Feeling even lighter and happier than before, I continued toward Camp One. As I hiked down the cwm, there was a long and dispersed line of climbers from other expeditions following the boot-packed trail, heading up the mountain for their chance at the summit. That’s how it would always be on Everest; no matter the cost or danger, there would always be more people waiting in line.

  After a while, I noticed there was a yellow-jacketed Global staff member among the people in the line. Getting closer, I picked out a purple ball cap on the person’s head.

  Luke?

  I stopped in my tracks. What was he doing up here? He was supposed to be recovering down in Base Camp.

  But it was him. He unclipped from the line and walked toward me.

  I fell to my knees. He was here. For me. Perhaps that was the luckiest thing of all. That he’d seen me through two years of silence other than #YCCM Circs, a ridiculously long time this season for me to believe that a relationship was possible, and my unintentional betrayals that amounted to me abandoning him, again and again.

  I didn’t deserve him, but he was here.

  “My god, Emily,” he said.

  Then he was on his knees, too, reaching carefully around my sling to bury me in his arms. My whole body went into free fall.

  I breathed deeply into his neck, reveling in his smell and the feel of us together again.

  He tucked his head in to me, his moist breath flowing past my ear. “Were you serious?” he asked. “Are you really coming to Washington?”

  “Yes,” I replied without hesitation.

  He shuffled back a little so he could see my face. His expression was soft but inquisitive, as if he were trying to assess my level of conviction.

  “I’m coming to Washington,” I said. “To be with you.”

  Any lingering traces of uncertainty on his face evaporated completely. We faced each other across the small gap, grinning. Then, I was back in his arms. My heart was going to burst. I loved him so much.

  I could have stayed in his embrace forever, but he didn’t give me that. He popped to his feet, a huge grin still on his face.

  “What?” I asked as he gave me a hand up.

  “We’re going to climb Mount Rainier together t
his summer,” he said.

  “Yes. And climbing in the Bugaboos this fall, right?”

  “Of course.”

  “Let’s go paddleboarding in the Puget Sound right away.”

  “Okay,” he said. “And there’s a premiere coming up for Walkabout’s Yosemite film. We won’t want to miss that.”

  I groaned. “I don’t have any clothes for a premiere. Or clothes for anything, for that matter.”

  “Don’t worry. Doc will take you shopping. By the way, she’s going to be your stepmom soon.”

  I froze. “How do you know?”

  “Greg told me. Between our radio calls to you. He was planning to propose when she got down, but now he’ll have to wait until Kathmandu or Seattle.”

  I smiled. Despite my previous prodding, Dad hadn’t breathed a word of his plans to me. Yes, America’s nuclear codes would be safe with him.

  Behind Luke, many of the climbers in the line had stopped to watch us.

  I turned to start walking down the mountain.

  “Not so fast,” Luke said, pulling me back and digging something out of his pocket.

  It was a bracelet for me, from what had to be the last of Dad’s vintage lavender cord.

  “You made that?”

  “Two nights ago was kind of stressful. Gave me something to do with my hands.”

  I took the bracelet from him and examined it. “You did a good job. I’m impressed you remembered how.” I unzipped my pocket to slip it inside.

  “What? You’re not going to put it on?”

  “People are staring,” I said.

  “I bet.”

  It wasn’t just people now. We’d caught the attention of a tiny drone from one of the other expeditions, and it was hovering over the climbers, facing us.

  “I’ll put it on in Camp One,” I assured him.

  Luke shook his head. He opened his hand to show me a book of wax-coated waterproof backpacking matches.

  “Seriously, we’re making a scene right now.”

  “Says the girl who blew our cover over the radio for everyone to hear.”

  I looked at him oddly.

  “You did realize you were on the all-mountain emergency channel, not Global’s channel.”