by Bobby Akart
As they moved rapidly through the parked vehicles and utility sheds, Kwon monitored the radio communications. The PLA patrols were now at the front gate, observing the confrontation between the four Sherpas. The young people were careful not to make any form of threatening gesture toward the soldiers, confident the men wouldn’t get involved.
During their reconnaissance, Kwon confirmed that the storage area for the snowmobiles and Arctic Cats was unmanned. The key to success was getting through the back gate quickly before they were discovered. He arrived at the storage building first and ensured there were no guards or mechanics. Satisfied they would not be interrupted, he led the group into the garage part of the building.
As they stood staring down at the Russian-designed but Chinese-made Irbis T150 snowmobiles, Kwon shook his head and managed a slight grin. It conjured up visions of the murder hornets that had plagued the Western United States a decade prior. Shaking the odd, random thought out of his head, he issued his orders.
“Locate the keys and ready six machines. Fuel them up if they are not already. Plus, add full gas cans in the compartment behind the seat. Hide the keys to the others and disable their throttles. I’ll be right back.”
Kwon turned toward a steel-mesh-covered wall that held a variety of tools hanging on hooks. He quickly scanned his options and grabbed a tire iron. While the Sherpas got ready for his return, he took off for the rear of the outpost, where he used the tire iron to break the undersized chain securing the swing gates. By the time he returned, the guys were standing next to their chosen ride. They’d worked together to push the snowmobiles out of the storage building and pointed them toward the back of the compound.
“Everything is done,” announced Ghosh. “They will hear us leave. These machines are very loud compared to other brands.”
“We won’t look back,” said Kwon. “I’ll lead us out the back to retrieve Harper and Yeshi. Then you take us to the drop-off point for the two extra riders before we continue to the East Face.” Kwon looked skyward as snow began to fall. The sun was setting behind the Himalayas, prompting him to confirm the machines were equipped with headlights.
As if choreographed, the Sherpas swung a leg over their seats and got settled in. They studied Kwon as he gazed upon the cockpit of the T150 and learned the controls. He nodded to the others, slung his new weapon firmly over his shoulders, and pressed the ignition button. The hundred-and-fifty-cubic-centimeter engine screamed to life. He goosed the motor, put it into gear, and lurched forward onto the hard-packed snow.
Just thirty seconds later, they’d arrived next to Harper and Yeshi. Harper climbed onto the back of Kwon’s seat, and Yeshi joined Babu. As they raced away from the compound, Harper yelled into Kwon’s ear, “What the hell do we need this for?”
Kwon shrugged as he leaned a little forward in his seat. He didn’t respond because he honestly didn’t know the answer. He hoped he wouldn’t have to use it.
Chapter Ten
Fremont Street Experience
Las Vegas, Nevada
Dr. Wolfgang Boychuck had been working long hours examining every corpse that had passed through the medical examiner’s office. He disregarded the official cause of death listed by the hospitals or attending physicians. He was devoting his efforts to finding evidence of the mysterious disease that had surfaced at the Gold Palace.
During a rare break in his office, he’d glanced at the local news covering the quarantine at the Fremont Street Experience in downtown Las Vegas. Mayor Carol Ann Silverman was granting an interview to a reporter, in which she discussed the troubles Las Vegas faced if the quarantine continued, or extended to the other casinos.
“Our slot machines are powered down. These casinos are boarded up and barricaded courtesy of the governor’s actions. Sidewalks are deserted and our glorious electronic marquees that once flashed inviting guests into the gaming establishments, nightclubs, and magic shows are off.
“It breaks my heart to see what has happened to the downtown casinos, and my fear is the same thing is spreading to the Strip.”
“But, Mrs. Mayor, the governor has specifically stated the quarantine will not apply to the other casinos on South Las Vegas Boulevard. In a statement—”
Mrs. Mayor raised her hand and cut him off. Her anger toward the governor oozed out of her with every word. “He has proven himself to be a liar and nothing but a stooge for the president. The first time a single suspected case of this disease rears its ugly head in the Venetian, or Trump, or Caesar’s, he’ll be moving to shut them down, too.
“It’s having a chilling effect on our tourism. Visitors are cancelling flight and hotel reservations by the thousands despite the fact their destination may not be affected by the quarantine. Quite frankly, folks are concerned they’ll be placed on lockdown like the hotel guests stranded in the hotels here on Fremont Street.”
Mrs. Mayor stood in the center of the Fremont Street Experience on a stage used by musical performances. The Nevada Guard had cleared a perimeter of thirty feet in all directions and were preventing anyone from accessing the stage without approval.
Dr. Boychuck continued to listen to the interview until he noticed a group of people standing behind the stage fully clothed in white personal protective equipment. Two of them were holding devices that resembled a drone-operator’s controls. As the interview with the mayor continued, his curiosity took hold and he bolted out of his office, hastily slinging his lab coat off until it landed on Squishy, the anatomical model.
He drove the mile and a half to Fremont Street in just a couple of minutes. He used his coroner’s office credentials to get past the guardsmen blocking the South Casino Center entrance to Fremont Street. This put him just a few feet away from where Mrs. Mayor was winding up her interview.
“Can you tell us what is happening here this morning?” the reporter asked.
“Yes. Only after considerable pressure, mind you, the governor will be releasing any visitors or personnel who’ve been quarantined since the beginning and who can pass the basic physical, which includes temperature checks and a minimally invasive respiratory exam. Everyone stuck here for the last twelve days can begin to make an orderly exit this afternoon. Our office is coordinating with local travel agencies and hotels to accommodate our visitors as much as possible.”
“Then what?” the reporter pressed.
“Well, I refuse to allow our fair city to struggle economically like we did in 2020 and ’21. Without tourism, we all suffer. Our visitors should feel like it’s safe to return, and casino workers should not have to choose between their paycheck and their lives. Toward that end, as soon as the last person leaves this afternoon, we are going to begin the cleanup process.”
“Are you referring to those devices lined up behind us?” asked the reporter as both she and Mrs. Mayor looked toward the west end of Fremont Street where it ended at South Main Street.
“Yes, indeed. The CDC acquired the technology for these in the years following the COVID pandemic. Basically, they are remote-controlled mini tanks used to disinfect streets, sidewalks, and the fronts of buildings.
“The mini tanks were originally designed for cleansing prisons and can cover up to half a million square feet in just a couple of hours. I guess if you are looking for something to compare them to, think about the mosquito spray trucks used in neighborhoods around the country. This does the same thing with disinfectant, except the machines are smaller and easily navigated into tight spaces.”
“What about the inside?” the reporter asked.
“The restaurants and casinos are ready. Using the CDC’s guidance on cleansing properties exposed to these kinds of diseases, they’ve created teams that will systematically give the interiors a scrubbing like no other. Years of bacteria, germs, and viruses will be eliminated, making the Fremont Street Experience one of the cleanest places on the planet to visit!”
Mrs. Mayor’s voice rose to a crescendo as if she were making a campaign speech to her adoring consti
tuents. On that high note, she abruptly ended the interview, a tactic she’d learned from her famous husband, the former mayor and accomplished attorney. “When dealing with the media, always end on a positive,” he’d told her. “Even if it means you get up and walk out in the middle of the interview.” It was a tactic she’d used before, oftentimes leaving the interviewing reporter in stunned silence.
She walked off the stage toward where the Clark County medical examiner stood. “Woolie! Did you see the interview?”
“Yes. Yes. Yes,” he replied, nodding his head vigorously as he spoke. “I caught a glimpse of these most intriguing machines.”
“Let him through,” she demanded of the guardsmen who blocked Dr. Boychuck from squeezing through the narrow opening between two barriers. “He’s our medical examiner and has every right to be here. More than you two, I might add.” She was extremely bitter about the governor’s actions and let anyone who’d listen hear about it.
Dr. Boychuck entered the cordoned-off area to join the mayor’s side. He analyzed the mini tanks before addressing her. “Mrs. Mayor, I continue to study every case that is sent to the morgue, as you requested. I am trying to establish a pattern on my own, and naturally, I feed my results to the CDC.”
“What does Dr. Randolph say?” the mayor asked.
He grimaced. “It’s odd, actually. I haven’t been able to speak with her. All of my contact has been through her aide, Dr. Becker.”
“I imagine she is busy,” interjected the mayor.
Dr. Boychuck wasn’t sure that was the reason. “Yes. Yes. Yes. However, a simple email providing me an update on her investigation would be appreciated.”
“Are they not being responsive? I can make a call.”
He held up both hands. “Not necessary. Their communications with me have been excellent, and I see they are providing you these machines to utilize. It’s just odd because she and I had a good working relationship. Then, suddenly, she disappeared.”
“Well, I’m sure there is a good reason. You and I will continue to stay the course until we can once again fill these casinos with players and workers.”
Chapter Eleven
Tingri County, Tibet
The trip to the East Face of Mount Everest from the central part of Tingri County in Tibet was an exhilarating mix of seclusion, wildlife sightings and physical challenges. In addition to the six-thousand-foot rise in elevation from Gangga, the terrain became increasingly more difficult to travel across. The new snow accumulation helped add to the existing base in the valleys, but Ghosh and Babu had to be careful of hidden rocks jutting through the white powder.
They raced away from the outpost until their fuel tanks were nearly empty. The twenty-plus-mile ride was tense and required a single detour to drop off the two excess passengers. By the time they refueled, it had turned dark, but the group agreed not to stop until they’d reached the base of the Kangshung Face. There, they’d camp for the night in the single, six-person tent strapped to the back of Babu’s snowmobile.
The cover of darkness helped them. They doubted the PLA soldiers could quickly fix the damage they’d caused to the remaining snowmobiles. In addition, the keys to the machines would never be found, as they had been dropped into the stench-filled toilet of an outdoor latrine. A good mechanic could devise a way to bypass the key, but the time required gave the group a nice head start.
Fortunately, the fresh snowfall helped cover their tracks while making their trek safer. The springtime snow, however, was damp and wet, immediately soaking their clothing. When they arrived at the base of the East Face, the Sherpas quickly set up the tent, and everyone huddled together inside to keep warm. Using their body warmth to survive, they were able to avoid building a fire, which would act as a shining beacon to the PLA helicopters if they were performing a nighttime search. Before they drifted off to sleep, Ghosh introduced the two Americans to the Kangshung Face.
“Kangshung is like two mountains stacked on top of each other,” began Ghosh as he tried to describe the daunting task ahead of them. “The lower part, the base, is made up of steep vertical ridges separated by narrow valleys. Imagine a mighty kapok tree found in Guangzhou. The roots rise out of the ground and support the limbs of red flowers. Only, Kangshung supports the glaciers.
“These are no ordinary glaciers as found on the South Col. They hang, perched on the edge of the rocky buttresses, ready to fall if Everest is shaken.”
“Shaken?” asked Harper.
Ghosh nodded as he answered, “Oh, yes. Many years ago, a very large earthquake struck Nepal and impacted Tibet. Twenty-two people died when an avalanche broke apart the glacier, dropping snow and ice on South Base Camp.
“The earthquake activity is common on the East Face of Everest. This is the reason very few outsiders have attempted to climb Kangshung Face. Most Himalayans are fearful of dying here.”
“But you’re not?” asked Harper.
“No, because we respect Kangshung,” he replied. He turned to his other Sherpas, studying their serious faces in the light provided only by an illuminated cell phone display. “You see, fear does not exist except in the mind. There is only chi. All else is only illusion.”
“What do you mean by chi?” she asked.
“Chi is the energy of life itself. It flows through everything in creation. It is not defined by science. It is derived from your core beliefs. Here, in your mind and soul.” He touched his forehead and then patted his chest.
“It requires meditation and understanding,” added Babu. “You must learn to block out all external thoughts. Do not possess in your mind and heart what others seek to force upon you. Your chi is just as important as the air you breathe and the water you drink. But, most importantly, it is yours and yours alone. When you accept this, you will be invincible.”
Harper was scientific minded although she’d been a practicing Catholic since she was a child. She’d learned to find inner peace by filling her mind with scripture and the presence of the Holy Spirit. There were times of turmoil in her life in which the only way she could let go of anger, worry, and fear was by turning to God. She totally understood the Sherpas’ explanation of chi.
However, she didn’t believe herself to be invincible, and she wasn’t prepared to accept that these young men were either.
“Have you successfully climbed this part of Mount Everest?”
“All of us have made it to the glacier, but only I have scaled Kangshung to the summit. There are two options for us to reach the cliff where the body rests.
“As you will see at sunrise, the deep gullies are filled with drifts of soft snow from the avalanches. We can use the snowmobiles to ascend the East Face as far as the snowpack will allow. At some point, it may become too soft to support our weight and we will sink.”
“Then what?” asked Kwon.
“We will begin the climb up the overhanging rock formations. This part is far more dangerous than being swept up by an avalanche. The buttresses are full of ice towers and, because of the unexpected snowfall, unsteady drifts. You must be very careful of your footing. One mistake, and you will die. It is that simple.”
Harper asked, “What about me? Will I follow you up the valleys?”
Kwon thought for a moment before answering, “Let’s make an assessment at first light. My inclination is to leave you and Yeshi here to act as lookouts. If the PLA sends a team to find us, you can either lead them away from the valley entrance or, if you can, neutralize them.”
Harper nodded. The term neutralize was a kind way of saying kill. Kwon’s suggestion also made sense. If she and Yeshi rode up the valley with them, everyone would be trapped with no escape.
Two of the Sherpas had drifted off to sleep and were blissfully snoring. Harper wondered if the tent full of men would be too loud to get any meaningful sleep. Or would her anxiety over the next day’s risky endeavor keep her up all night? Eventually, fatigue overcame her and she joined the chorus of snoring men.
Chapter Twel
ve
Kangshung Face
Mount Everest
Tibet Autonomous Region
People’s Republic of China
Harper was the last to emerge from the tent that morning. The Sherpas, despite their propensity for hard and fast living, were extraordinarily disciplined when it came to the mountain. She wiped the sleep from her eyes and found the men a hundred yards away, staring up at the impressive Kangshung Face, which was awash in an orangish glow from the sun peeking up behind them.
Mount Everest occupied a rare spot in the collective imagination of anyone who stood before it. Most onlookers were filled with a mix of wonder, reverence, and trepidation. Over time, thousands of climbers had successfully and safely reached the summit and returned home with inspirational stories of conquest and perseverance.
Too often, however, the mountain conquered man. Heartbreaking reports of tragedy were commonplace. At home, distraught families begged for assistance in bringing the remains of their dead loved ones home. Despite the costs and the risk of life to those who undertook the arduous task, the retrieval of dead climbers was the only chance for the families to attain some semblance of closure.
It was a part of the job that the Sherpas despised the most. Their goal in leading climbers to the summit of Mount Everest was to achieve success, for failure most often meant death. Each of them had been a part of the scenes at base camp following a fatal climb in which survivors begged them to help. To do something. To find a way to recover their dead friend’s body, the grieving family or friends of the climber not realizing that some parts of Mount Everest were not meant to be conquered.
