by Nick Carter
The creature rushed at me and now, at close quarters, its sub-human face was, I could see, elongated and snout-like. Its eyes, small and dark, were the button eyes of a bear. All I had time for was to dive for the rifle and get my hands on the barrel. I swung it with all my strength and the heavy stock caught the damned thing flush in the face. It was a blow that would have crushed in a man's skull. The creature halted, staggered back a moment, and leaped at me. Still holding the Marlin by the barrel, I swung it around, found the trigger and let go a blast into the air, hoping it might frighten him back. I had no room or time to get the barrel pointed at it. The damned thing just leaped. I flung myself flat and felt the huge form brush over me. I caught a glimpse of its feet, human in shape except for the clawed forepads. The thing kept on going after its leap, vaulting up a huge rock, leaping onto another. I aimed a shot at the leaping form but I was shooting too fast and from a bad position. The shot missed and I got up to see the thing disappearing into the deep ribbed crevices.
Hilary was sitting up, her eyes wide with shock. I went over to her and pushed the hood of her parka back. The snow was coming down heavily now.
"Are you all right?" I asked. She looked up at me and fell into my arms, her breath coming in great, heaving sobs. I looked her over. Except for the shredded back of her parka where the creature's claws had lifted her, she was all right. Terrified, but otherwise all right.
"Oh, my God," she finally whispered. 'What was it, Nick?"
"I don't know," I said. "It was something that doesn't exist, a legend, a piece of folklore. I still don't believe it. I saw it, I tangled with it, and I still don't believe it."
Hilary's head was against my arm, her hair nearly white with snow. I pulled the hood of her parka back over her head. "Oh, Nick, Nick," she said. "The abominable snowman exists. The yeti lives. You can't scoff at the legend any longer. You can't, I can't. It's true, Nick, true."
I hadn't any answers. They'd all been swallowed up by a hairy demon out of some ancient book on mythological creatures. But was it an animal? Or was it human? Hilary shuddered. "God, Nick, it's well named," she breathed. "It certainly was abominable. I'll never completely disbelieve another legend about anything anywhere, not after this."
Her eyes were wide, looking up at me, and terribly blue. Snowflakes covered her eyebrows and clung to the lids of her eyes and her lovely, round-cheeked face seemed to sparkle. I tore my eyes from her and found myself thinking of the swift juxtaposition of things, from sheer horribleness to fresh, clean loveliness in a matter of minutes.
"I'm afraid, Nick," she shivered again. "I'm afraid it will come back."
"Somehow, I don't think so," I answered. "This has some very interesting aspects to it. The yeti apparently lives, but so do I."
"This is no time for riddles," she said. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"We must admit the damned thing is real," I said. "But it didn't attack me. It attacked your camp. It doesn't kill or attack because the Spirit of Karkotek tells it to do so. It kills indiscriminately. If it's tied in with anything, I'm betting it's Ghotak."
"Nobody could control that creature, Nick," Hilary protested.
"Not control the way you mean it, not like having a trained dog," I said. "But there are all sorts of control. Somehow, I don't think it roams entirely on its own."
Hilary got up. She looked at the snow, now coming down in stinging, biting, slanted fury. The other peaks were all but invisible because of the curtain of white.
"This is a bloody blizzard, Nick," she said. "We'll never make our way back in this. It would be sure death. Why, we couldn't see a crevasse in front of us."
She turned to me and clutched my arm. "I'm afraid, Nick," she said. "I'm afraid."
"We'll have to go up," I said. "We'll have to find a spot we can hole up in till it blows out. I've enough food and coffee to keep us for two days. This might blow out by this afternoon. Come on, where's all that determination?"
"It's bloody well disappeared," she said. "I think that damned creature scared it right out of me."
I took her hand. "Get your gear together and let's start hunting," I said. "The longer we wait the less chance well have of finding anything." She nodded and in minutes we were clambering up the mountain. We paused to pick up my blanket and food and then pushed on. The snow and sub-zero temperatures combined to lash our faces with biting, stinging pain, and each step was like having a fistful of sharp pebbles thrown into your face. I chose a narrow trail along a sheer wall of ice on the chance that it might lead into a large crevasse between two glaciers. If we could find a spot there we'd be somewhat protected from the fury of the wind at least. The ledge grew narrower and the trail turned upwards alongside the cliff. Suddenly it broadened and I was standing on a small plateau. A dark shape loomed up in the wall of the cliff and I advanced through the curtain of white toward it. As I neared it I saw it was the entrance to a cave in the rock.
"Over here, Hilary," I called excitedly. "Come on." I went into the cave, bending low to fit through the small entranceway. It was dry, clean and had obviously been used by other travelers at some time because there was firewood piled against one wall. I couldn't stand erect inside it but it was about fifteen feet deep and ten feet wide. We built a fire in the mouth of the cave, just back of the snowline quickly piling up outside. The wind kept the warmth blowing back into the cave and within the hour, the cave was as warm as a cottage living room. We took off our outer garments and spread them on the ground to let them dry. Hilary had calmed down, and under her outerwear she had on an orange sweater, and deep blue slacks. She chatted on gaily about her background, her home life in England, and we exchanged anecdotes and stories. It was a different Hilary Cobb, a warm, vivacious girl without the hostile aggressiveness, and I commented on it.
"It's you blighters that make a girl aggressive," she said. "You never think a girl can do anything right."
"But there are a lot of girls who accept that and don't get all full of desire to compete and prove things," I countered.
"I guess I'm just not one of them," she said crisply, and I smiled as I saw her temper flaring instantly.
"I know," I said. "That's why you followed me up here."
"Well, yes, but only partly so," she answered.
"What do you mean by that?"
She turned and fixed her lovely blue eyes full on me, wide and round. Her pert nose and lovely skin glowed in the reflected light of the fire.
"Will you believe me?" she asked unsmiling. I nodded.
"Frankly, I was worried about you up here alone," she said. "I guess it was a mixture of the two. I'm after my story and you'd better not forget that. But after watching you with that bloody snake, I knew that you were someone extraordinary and whatever brought you here was important. And I felt that you were going it all alone and that, somehow, wasn't right."
"I'm touched, Hilary," I said seriously. "I am. But I haven't been going it alone. The old man was a help and a guide. And Khaleen has been very helpful in many ways."
"I'll bet," she snapped, and I grinned. Jealousy was, I'd learned a long time ago, a built-in female commodity, and it was there even when it had no damned right to be there.
"The girl is in love with you, you know," she added, and I was reminded of another female quality, that unique ability to sense certain things without question or doubt and be completely right about them. She caught the slight tightness of my lips.
"Well, it's true and I'm sorry for her," she said.
"Sorry for her?" I frowned "Why?"
"You know the answer to that as well as I do " she snapped. "Because you're not a man to fall in love with, not the way she has, anyway." I knew she was completely right, of course, and my slow smile revealed it.
"And you'll hurt her because you can't help but hurt her," Hilary added. "That's why I feel sorry for her."
"You're very protective today," I grinned. "First my going it alone up here and now Khaleen's being hurt."
"I'm
just a Girl Scout trying for an extra merit badge," she snapped. "I told you you wouldn't understand."
"Better watch out for your own emotions," I said. "Or are you as good at self-protection?" She caught the taunting edge to my voice and her eyes narrowed.
"Better," she said. "I don't get involved in anything, and I don't do anything unless I'm calling the shots."
I grinned and brought out the food. The dried beef looked decidedly unappetizing though I was getting hungry. I slipped on my parka and picked up the Marlin.
"Well go into the last remark in greater detail later," I said. "Meanwhile, I think maybe I can do better in the food department. You stay here, woman, and tend cave."
"Yes, master," she said, flashing a smile of mock servility. I'd let the fire burn low and I stepped over it and went into the storm. I remembered how, on my first trip through the mountains I'd seen pheasants even higher in the cliffs than we were now. Knowing that the habits of birds are not changed, even by storms, I tried to peer through the white curtain. I moved along the plateau, listening every few steps. The wind, blowing in gusts, lifted the snow in between gusts and allowed me to glimpse ahead a little. I crouched low and grew colder by the second. I was just about to give it up as a bad job when I heard the flutter of wings and I saw two pheasants making their way across the plateau to where it rose slightly to meet a clump of brush. I raised the gun and aimed carefully. The Marlin could blow a hole so big there wouldn't be any bird left to eat. I got the nearest one in the head, blowing it off and leaving the rest of the body untouched. Returning to the cave with my trophy, I built up the fire again and used Hugo to do neat surgery on the pheasant.
"A dinner fit for a queen," I proclaimed, later. "Barbecued pheasant What more could anyone ask?"
"No wine?" Hilary commented acidly.
We were midway through dinner, chomping on the pheasant which was a little gamey but tender, when Hilary asked two very direct questions. I decided to answer both of them honestly. It's not hard to be honest when you hold all the cards.
"What is this all about, Nick?" she questioned. "Why are you here? Why was Harry Angsley sent here?" I looked at her, blue eyes gazing soberly up at me, her blonde hair sending brass glints off in the flickering glow of the fire, large breasts so invitingly thrusting out the bright orange sweater. She'd managed to plunge herself into things so deeply this time that I decided to play straight with her, especially since I knew she wouldn't be sending her story anywhere.
"The Chinese Reds are trying to pull a sneak takeover in Nepal," I said flatly. I filled her in on the details as I knew them, on Ghotak's role as an inside column leader, on the already sizable influx of trained revolutionists under the guise of peaceful immigrants. When I'd finished, she was unsmiling and serious faced.
"Thank you for being honest, at last," she said. "I felt it was something on that order but I didn't realize how close to success they were."
She lapsed into silence, and I watched her in the firelight. She was really a very attractive girl, I had long ago decided. Here, in the warmth of the fire, with the snowfall raging outside, she was desirable as well as very attractive. Her second question came as though she had been reading my thoughts.
"This snow isn't stopping soon," she said. "We may be spending the night here. Are you going to try to make love to me, Nick?"
"I'm not going to try," I said. "I'm going to do it." I saw the hostility instantly leap into her eyes.
"I told you I don't do anything unless I'm calling the shots," she said.
"I heard you," I grinned. "That's okay with me. You can call. In fact, I'm sure you will."
Her lips tightened, and I let it lay there. I got up and went outside, skirting the fire. Darkness was coming down fast and it was still a raging snowstorm. I was angry and frustrated, afraid of what Ghotak might be doing. The storm would probably hamper his movements too, but I knew that when it ended, we had to get back down to Katmandu, and fast. I went back inside and saw Hilary watching me, a mixture of defiance and uncertainty in her eyes. Her breasts rose up like small versions of the mountains outside as she leaned back on her elbows. I knelt down beside her, with her eyes fixed on mine and suddenly realized that the defiance I saw there was her kind of mask. She used it to cloak her own desires, to mask them from herself as well as from others. I leaned down and put my lips on hers. She remained motionless for a moment and then started to tear away. I grabbed her shoulder and yanked her around, crushing my mouth over hers. I opened her lips with my tongue and felt her writhe, her hands pushing upon my shoulders. I held her in a tight grip and let my tongue penetrate her mouth, sending it darting back and forth. I felt her lips suddenly soften and quiver, felt them relax and answer mine. Her tongue curled over mine and she was gasping, working her full lips over my mouth, devouring, burning, thirsting.
My hand found her breast and she cried out as I roamed across the soft, tender flesh. "Oh, my God, Nick… Oh, God," she breathed. I yanked the sweater up and off her and the bra came undone. Her beautifully large breasts lay against my chest and she was moving against me, her legs twitching and rubbing against each other. I found her breasts with my lips, drawing softly upon them, and her cries filled the little cave with the sounds of pure rapture. I stopped, raised my lips from them, and she feverishly rose to thrust them into my mouth. "Oh, don't stop, damn… don't stop," she said. I pulled away again and looked at her face, her eyes closed in pleasure, lips parted, quivering.
"Are you calling, Hilary?" I asked softly. She whimpered and pressed her breast into my hand. "Louse," she whimpered. "You louse. Yes, I'm calling… I'm calling, oh, God am I calling." I bent down to the sweetness of her breast again and felt the virginal nipples rise under the soft circle of my tongue. Hilary's slacks were suddenly off her legs and I was exploring the youthful, firm convexity of her belly, the warm moistness of her thighs, as she continued to make little whimpering sounds of ecstasy. I lowered my body over hers. Her arms clasped my neck like a vise, and her lips played an insistent tattoo across my face. As I came to her she began to cry out, a long, low, passion-filled cry that grew in intensity as I increased my movements. Suddenly, I pulled away and waited for a long moment. She lay in suspended animation, back arched, not drawing a breath, and then she cried out in ecstatic anguish, a scream of pleading hunger. "No-o-o-o…. you can't stop. Oh, my God, no. Please… oh, oh, please." I came to her again and moved with stronger, bolder rhythms, and now Hilary was beating her fists against my chest in a wild, uncontrolled passion. "Oh, I can't… I can't handle it," she cried out. "I can't handle it."
"You'll handle it," I said, and I knew she was experiencing that sweet anguish of uncontrollable ecstasy, a moment only some women ever knew when their passions are literally beyond themselves. That same aggressiveness, that same determination now channeled into the ecstasy of rapture, was carrying her to heights she never knew existed, the Himalayas of passion, and I had the fleeting, passing thought that our setting was appropriate for her. Suddenly, as I thrust deeply into her, she seized me and her youthful, firm body quivered convulsively and her breath came in long gasps. Finally, like a light bulb being snapped off, she fell back, utterly spent and exhausted. I lay beside her, drinking in the magnificent contours of her body. Hilary was a big girl but with the statuesque beauty given only to some big girls. It was a while before she opened her eyes and looked at me. She turned over and lay against me, her lips against my ear.
"You knew all the time, didn't you?" she asked. "You knew what I really wanted all the time."
"Not at first," I said. "At least not consciously. But I'm glad I found out."
I turned her over to peer into her eyes. "Are you?" I asked.
She nodded and squeezed me tight in her arms. "I'm glad," she said. "I hope it never stops snowing."
We lay quietly in the warm little world we had found, and before the night ended, I taught Hilary more about the heights of passion and ecstasy. She was vigorous and unsubtle but she made up for he
r lack of experience by the unalloyed pleasure of discovery. The snow stopped at dawn and we finally dressed and started from the cave. She stopped me on the way out and her lips pressed against mine.
"I'll never forget this night," she said. "And I'm even more sorry for Khaleen now. You'll leave a big hole in her world when you up and leave, as you will."
"Stop trying to make me feel like a heel," I said. "She'll get over it. She came to me all tied up in rituals and customs and ancient codes. I tried to turn her aside."
"I'll bet you tried for thirty or forty seconds," she sneered.
"The old Hilary is back," I said. "Miss sweetness and light."
"Maybe the old Hilary never left," she said. "Maybe last night was just a passing interlude." Her arm suddenly tightened on mine and her head came to rest against my chest. "Maybe the old Hilary is back because she's so bloody sorry the old world has to come back," she said in a small voice. "Maybe because she wishes last night could go on forever."
I held her tight another moment and then led the way from the cave. Outside, the dawn held another surprise for us. The snow had stopped and lay over everything, a heavy, white blanket, but now I could see where we were for the first time. From the ledge, we looked down onto a wide pass and in the pass were ten tents and a brigade of soldiers, just emerging from their shelters.
