by Bear Grylls
A cluster of small rocks came tumbling down towards them. They bounced and spun almost lazily in the air, like they were made of feathers or falling in low gravity.
‘Hold on!’ Ian yelled, and then the rocks were upon them and there was nothing light about them at all. Beck pressed himself into the cliff face, but they weren’t falling on him. One of them struck James’s bergen a glancing blow, but not enough to dislodge him.
And one of them struck Ian square on the shoulder. With a sharp cry, he was dashed off the cliff. He fell into the abyss, stopping short as his rope jerked, all his weight now on James’s small rock cam device.
James yelled as the taut rope forced him against the rock face. Ian was spinning on the rope that came straight down from his harness, tight as a drum.
‘It’s not going to hold!’ James screamed. Already the cam was shifting out of the crack it was fixed into. James’s whole body trembled as he clung there, spread-eagled flat against the rock. Beck could see that he was holding on with every ounce of strength.
‘My shoulder . . .’ Ian groaned. ‘I think it’s broken . . .’
‘Pull yourself up!’ James’s voice shook with panic. His eyes were screwed tight shut, his face ground into the rock. ‘Pull yourself up! I don’t know how long the cam will hold . . .’
The cam was now secured by just two teeth and was on the verge of popping out.
Ashen-faced, Beck looked down at Ian. Ian met his eyes and a silent understanding passed between them. They had seconds in which to act, no more. The cam’s grip would never hold two of them.
With his good hand, Ian dug a knife out of his belt and held it up for Beck to see. Even then, Beck hoped against hope that he was going to do something clever with it. Jam it into the rock, use it as a foot support . . .
But no.
‘I’m sorry, James, mate. I did my best. You’re a good lad.’
The finality in his voice pierced the panic that gripped James’s mind. ‘What? Wait!’
Ian gave Beck a final look as he brought the blade up to the rope. ‘Beck. Remember this.’ He rattled off a stream of figures – coordinates for a GPS. ‘Repeat that back to me.’
Beck did so, though his throat was dry and he could barely get the words out; he had to raise his voice over James’s gabbled questions.
‘And when you get there,’ Ian ordered, ‘find Sangmu.’
‘Who—’ Beck began as Ian pressed the blade against the rope. It parted almost instantly.
Ian tumbled away into the air, shrinking in a second to a figure the size of a doll. His voice echoed up from below: ‘Sangmu!’
And then it was drowned out by James’s heartbroken shriek of grief as he realized what Ian had done.
Beck pressed his face into the rock so that he couldn’t see Ian hit the ground. But they both heard the loud thump from far below.
Chapter 10
Beck took several long, shuddering breaths to calm his racing heart. Then he climbed along the rock to James.
James’s whole body shook with sobs. ‘I did it, I killed him, I’m so stupid I can’t even attach a simple stupid cam properly – I killed him . . .’
Beck dug his own cam into the rock and, awkwardly, put his hand on James’s shoulder. It was all he could do. He hadn’t known Ian well; he couldn’t have called the man a friend. The sudden death was a shock, but that was only natural. Beck knew he would get over it. But James had known Ian very well indeed.
He looked up to where James’s cam had been. A small crater of fresh rock, lighter than the rest, had opened up. The cam had pulled it open. ‘Your cam was fine,’ he said. ‘It was the rock that was bad. Don’t blame yourself.’
Beck grabbed the cam that dangled from James’s harness and jammed it into a new crack, testing it with a tug. Now at least they were both properly fastened.
James’s sobs slowly died away. He stared fixedly at the rock wall. His chest rose and fell with slow, deliberate breaths. He showed no sign of moving.
Beck squeezed the hand that was on his shoulder. ‘We should keep going.’
James didn’t take his eyes off the rock. ‘Why?’ he said hoarsely.
Beck hesitated. ‘Because if we don’t, eventually we’ll fall,’ he said.
‘Maybe I want to fall.’
Beck thought about it. The attraction of just being dead, when everything seemed lost . . . Then he thought about everything he loved – Uncle Al, his friend Peter, the adventures he still had ahead of him – so much to do, so many places to see. No, he had to stay alive. None of that would happen if he lay cold and smashed at the bottom of a mountain.
‘Nah,’ he said. ‘We’re going to finish this.’
A pause.
‘Yes, we are,’ James whispered back.
Beck gave his shoulder a final squeeze and took his hand away.
‘And in case you were forgetting, I’ve had to deal with this before,’ James added.
It took Beck a moment to realize what James meant. Not that long ago, James had lost his mother. Ian had been like a father to him, and now he was gone too.
Beck knew from experience that you never got over losing your parents. Al had done his best to replace them, and Green Force had been almost like a family. But it wasn’t the same.
What you did do was learn to live with it.
‘I know,’ Beck replied quietly.
James released his cam and moved off without a backward glance. Beck waited until he was securely fixed five metres away, then followed.
Five minutes later they were safely on the rock spur they had been aiming for. They could stand without need for cams or ropes. Beck slowly coiled up the remains of the rope and stowed it in his bergen. They had about fifteen metres, give or take. The rest had gone down with Ian. Not a word passed between them as they started to trudge back up the slope.
Twenty minutes later they were back at the top.
James sat on the rock with his head in his hands. ‘That’s it, then. We’re finished. We don’t know where we’re going. And look at us – two boys! We can’t take on Lumos by ourselves.’ His voice began to rise. ‘Do you know how big it is? How powerful? We’re just kids! And we don’t know where we are or where we’re going . . .’
Beck sensed a panic attack heading James’s way. It would arrive in about a minute, and after that James would be good for nothing.
‘I just want to go home!’ James howled.
Beck squatted down in front of him and looked him in the eye. Now, he decided, James was ready for the big picture.
‘Too late,’ he snapped. ‘And it’s been too late ever since we decided to do this. Ever since I agreed to play dead. Go home? Sure. Right. Then what? It will take Lumos about two and a half seconds to find me and finish me. And probably you too, for good measure.’
James stared at him, face ashen with shock. Beck was right.
‘Remember who had this idea in the first place? Who first thought we could do this?’ Beck softened his voice and gave James a gentle poke in the chest. ‘You did. It was your plan and it’s a darn good one. Me, I like being alive, I like being in the world – but the world would be a whole lot better off without Lumos in it. We can do this.’
James looked at him. ‘How?’
Beck dug out his GPS and quickly tapped the coordinates Ian had shouted out into it. He kept talking while he waited for it to go through its locating routine.
‘Ian gave us that clue: Sangmu.’ He saw James’s questioning look. ‘I don’t know – a place? A person? Someone’s cat? We’ll find out. We know the direction we were headed, and judging by the supplies we brought with us, our destination can’t be more than a couple of days away.’
Beck straightened up and followed the route of the ridge with his eyes. They shouldn’t have tried to climb down anywhere along here. They should have pressed on for at least another mile, maybe more, to avoid that sheer 200-metre drop.
‘It looks like, if we follow the ridge, it starts to drop down
. That should get us past the cliff. After that we can probably find another way down into the valley.’
James followed his gaze, and his shoulders sagged. Then he shrugged, clambered slowly to his feet and began to walk. ‘I guess we better get on with it, then.’
Beck smiled and squeezed James’s shoulder as he began to follow on behind.
Chapter 11
It took the rest of the day to make their way down from the high ground.
They had to proceed carefully, to make sure they didn’t climb themselves down into another trap. They walked for another hour before Beck spotted what looked like a manageable route. It went out along the top of a spur, giving a good view of the way down in all directions. From there Beck could plan the rest of the descent. There were slopes on all sides; he chose the one with the gentlest gradient. The way was still rocky and littered with scree – broken fragments of rock that had come tumbling down over the centuries. They had to walk carefully, judging each step as they planted their boots amidst the loose stones. It was difficult and jarring on the legs. Every footfall was a little lower than the last, which put added strain on their knees and thigh muscles. Beck knew from experience that walking uphill might tire the leg muscles more, but coming down was always tougher on the body. They kept their knees bent to absorb the impact of each step, though it made the thigh muscles complain loudly in protest at the extra work.
Apart from the occasional grunt or muttered request, they were silent. James was just walking on autopilot. He could put one foot in front of another, and leave the rest to his body while his mind assimilated the tragedy that had happened. Beck felt sad as well – not just because of the sudden, shocking loss of Ian, but also for James, who had lost everyone he had ever been close to.
Except me, Beck thought. He would be there for James. Despite James’s Lumos past, they were friends for good. And friends stick together. Through thick and thin.
It was hard to say precisely when they made the transition from mountain to valley, but as they lost altitude, the land slowly changed colour. The slopes that had been bare and rocky became lush and green. Below them, terraced fields rose up from the valley floor. Above the fields the slopes were thickly wooded with conifers. Rhododendron bushes the size of houses dotted the green, like someone had shaken a brush over the valley and splattered it with red.
The temperature rose as they dropped down. When they entered the trees it grew distinctly humid. Beck estimated it was a good twenty degrees. Air that had been crisp and clear in the mountains was suddenly scented with pine resin and mulch. The sky was a vivid blue above them and the sun was bright, sending dazzling rays down through the branches. It wasn’t long before their cagoules and top layers had disappeared into their bergens, and they marched along in T-shirts and sunglasses.
James suddenly spoke, though his voice was still flat and lifeless.
‘You don’t think of trees and Nepal. You think of mountains and snow. That’s all you see on TV.’
‘I read that in 2014 in Kathmandu, two thousand people each hugged a tree for World Environment Day,’ Beck said. ‘It was a world record.’ He looked sideways at James to see if there was any sign of amusement. ‘So, there’s at least two thousand trees.’
James’s lips moved in a quick flash of a smile. ‘Or one really big one.’ His mouth settled back into a straight line.
They emerged from the trees and saw terraces spread out before them. Here they finally saw a few people about – Sherpa herders and farmers heading home along tracks on either side of the river. None of them spotted the two boys.
They were much further south than in England, so night came quickly. The valley was already in shadow. For the same reason you didn’t see the sunrise until later, the sun disappeared from the sky even earlier than it would on flat ground. The mountains obscured its descent.
Beck checked the GPS, then pointed ahead, to where a rocky ridge bulged out of the side of the valley. ‘We’ll make our way past that point and then find a place to camp,’ he said. But then he remembered that Ian had been carrying the camping gear. It would be a cold night ahead of them.
By the time they came to the place Beck had pointed out, they were completely alone. Not a soul around for miles, which suited Beck fine.
When he called a halt, James simply stopped and shucked his bergen onto the ground. ‘Here, I suppose? It’s south-facing.’
Beck was pleased to hear this. A remark like that showed that the old James was still there – buried under the shock of losing Ian, but still there. There had been a time when James was Beck’s greatest fan (as well as wanting to kill him). He had read up on all the survival tips he could find, and he knew that, because the sun moved from east to west via the south, anything that was south-facing got the sun’s heat for most of the day. The warmth would linger.
Unfortunately that was only part of the picture.
‘True,’ he said. ‘But we’re also surrounded by mountains.’
James put his hands on his hips and stared around as if noticing the Himalayas for the first time. ‘Good grief. Why was I not informed?’ He cocked a sideways look at Beck, and now there was definitely a smile. It even lasted longer than a second. The old James was coming back.
‘Cold air sinks,’ Beck said, ‘and it will come tumbling down the mountains to the bottom of the valley. This whole area could freeze.’
James groaned. ‘So we go back up?’
‘Not far. We basically want a piece of flat – flattish – ground about thirty metres above the valley bottom. It’ll be a good couple of degrees warmer.’
‘South-facing,’ James added, defending his one item of knowledge.
Beck nodded. ‘And preferably protected by heat-absorbing trees or rocks.’
‘With en-suite bathroom and maid service.’
‘Well, naturally. Goes without saying.’
James grabbed his bergen and they trudged back up the slope. ‘Or we might find a cave?’ he said hopefully.
‘We might.’ Beck hated to let him down when he was trying to contribute ideas. ‘But if we can find it, someone else will have found it first. Probably someone with teeth and claws. And the whole place will be one big en-suite bathroom. Floor and walls covered with droppings. And it will be cold and damp.’
‘OK,’ James replied after a pause, ‘let’s not try and find a cave.’ He stayed silent for a moment as they kept walking. ‘Um. Teeth and claws . . . Just what kind of animals are we talking about?’
Beck thought. ‘Of the toothy and clawy variety . . . Tigers. Leopards. Wolves. Bears . . .’
Chapter 12
James’s eyes went wide and round. He peered around and up into the trees as if expecting an attack by a marauding pack of predators.
‘Most of those will be up in the mountains,’ Beck said quickly. ‘And more are endangered.’
‘What’s so great about being endangered?’
‘Means they’re rare so we probably won’t meet them . . . Hey, here’s a place.’
They were just below the first line of trees. A tall pine had toppled over and lay facing them. Its roots had torn a hollow space in the ground that was just large enough for two boys.
‘It’s not quite the Hilton,’ Beck said.
‘Let’s just say there’s room for improvement. So, let’s improve.’ James dropped his bergen on the ground and looked around.
The hollow needed a roof. The fallen tree was a good source of branches, so James got busy removing a few thin ones. They didn’t have an axe or a machete so he had to rely on brute strength, working the branches back and forth, teeth gritted, until the wood snapped.
Meanwhile Beck used a flat stone to dig a drainage ditch around the top of their camp. If it rained during the night, water would flow into the ditch and go round them, rather than coming tumbling into the hollow and drenching them.
‘Expecting rain?’ James asked.
‘Probably not. It’s still the dry season, just. The monsoon s
eason starts in June, and it won’t get this far north until a couple of weeks later, at least. But we’re surrounded by mountains, and rain and mountains go together like . . . um . . .’
‘Two very togethery things.’
‘Exactly. So I’m just making sure.’
Beck had seen one or two monsoons in his time. Damp air swept in from the Indian Ocean and dumped its load on the land. Most of the Indian subcontinent had endless rainy days for a quarter of the year. Life became hot, humid and wet. It was vital to the farmers; it was highly inconvenient to any campers.
While James was attacking the tree, Beck started to gather together sticks and twigs for a fire.
‘We’ve still got the stove,’ James pointed out.
‘Yeah, but I want to keep the fire going all night. The stove will just run out of gas. This is for heat, not cooking.’
Beck built the small pile in the hollow. First he laid the smallest, driest twigs in a mound the size of both fists clenched together. That was the kindling, the heart of the fire. The bigger sticks were laid on top, looking a bit like the frame of a tepee. Beck struck a match and held it to the kindling. The dry wood, thick with pine resin, started to crackle and spit almost at once. The fire caught quickly. Flame licked its way up the small pile and the air above it began to shimmer with heat.
They took the branches that James had gathered and laid them over the hollow, overlapping to block out any draughts. They left a space in the middle for the wood smoke to escape. Then they sat cross-legged on either side of the fire and chewed on a ration of tahr meat. They didn’t talk. James’s brief spell of chattiness seemed to be over. Again, Beck could only imagine what thoughts were whirling around his head.
Well, for the time being, they had a camp that was dry, sheltered and warm. Things could be worse. A good night’s sleep, some food to eat – they didn’t fix everything but they made a lot of things seem more fixable.
The fire was dying down. Once it was smouldering, Beck would fill in the smoke hole in their covering with another couple of bigger and longer branches. Then they would be snug and warm until morning.
