Philip Kerr - Esau

‘Boyd would love this,’ he said, slightly overawed by the character of his surroundings. ‘Weirdest-looking ice I’ve seen.’

Switching back to the carbide light, he started to walk.

‘Right. Here I go, feeling like one of the Seven Dwarfs.’

‘Which one?’ asked Swift.

‘Dopey, I guess. I must be dopey to do this, right?’

‘You said it,’ said Mac.

‘Thanks, Grumpy. Thank God for water-heated underwear anyway. So far, this isn’t so bad. Not much more than a trek.’

The shelf led straight for about a hundred metres, then started to bend left. Above him, the opening of the crevasse began to narrow. Jack checked the compass reading on the suit’s control panel.

‘From here the route bears west. There’s a bit of a descending slope. The weirdest thing though. The ice on the wall is so finely marked it looks like the skin of some kind of animal.’

Without the crampons attached to his boots, he could never have maintained any kind of pace. He walked another couple of hundred metres, using the ice axe as a walking stick, with the pick end in his gloved left hand, nearest the drop, and the spike in the icy shelf underfoot. The angle of the shelf meant that he was tilted toward the wall, with his empty hand pressed almost continually against its icy surface to balance himself. After another five or six hundred metres, the sky vanished altogether as the crevasse closed up overhead and grew nearer his helmet. To Jack’s experienced Himalayan eye the top of the great chasm appeared to have been partly filled by an avalanche.

‘Well, that’s the last of the daylight. From now on we’re in the hall of the mountain king. Wait a minute,’ he added. ‘What’s that?’

There was something leaning down over the shelf. At first he thought it was a stalactite. His steps faltered as he tried to make it out in the gloom. Then he stopped walking altogether. Was it his own imagination, or was there something vaguely human-looking up ahead? He switched to the halogen to get a better view and thought that he could make out a head and an arm. Whatever it was seemed almost to be waiting for him.

‘There’s something up ahead.’

‘Jack,’ said Swift. ‘Please be careful.’

‘I’m taking the pistol out, just in case.’

Unholstering the hypodermic pistol, he started slowly forward again.

‘I can see what looks like a head and an arm,’ he reported. ‘Nothing’s moving though.’

‘Jack? This is Miles. Remember, you’re only accurate up to fifteen metres. And there’s enough dope in the shot to fell a yak.’

‘I hope so,’ breathed Jack. ‘Because the words BB gun and rhinoceros spring to mind.’

‘As soon as you get a clear shot. Jack.’

‘Okay, it’s definitely human-looking. Jesus, it’s big too. About two, two and a half metres tall. Still not moving though. And no sound from it either. It’s maybe twenty or twenty-five metres away. I need to get closer.’

‘Jack, this is Byron. If the creature behaves as much like a gorilla as Hurké’s description seemed to suggest, then it will quite probably remain quite still for a while and then charge.’

Considerably apprehensive now. Jack stopped in his tracks.

‘What the hell does that mean? Do I stay still myself, or what?’

‘It’s probably curious about you. Try not to touch your chest. It might think that you’re chest beating. Great apes think of that as a signal for excitement or alarm.’

‘Excitement or alarm, eh?’ Inside the SCE suit and partly amplified by the hot mike just below his Adam’s apple, his own heart sounded like a set of bongo drums. ‘I don’t know where you got that idea.’

‘Just... just don’t do anything sudden.’

‘Right.’

Jack inched his way forward, holding the gun in front of him like a talisman. He hoped he would not have to rely on the ice axe for protection. But if and until the Ketamine took effect, it was either that or lie down on the ground and try and stab at the yeti with the chromed steel tips of his crampons.

‘Nearly in range,’ he said, levelling the pistol and taking aim at what he perceived to be the creature’s shoulder. At least if it charged now he could hardly avoid hitting his target.

‘Nineteen metres... eighteen... still no movement or sound... maybe this thing thinks I can’t see it... seventeen metres...’

‘You’re going too quickly. Jack,’ said Cody. ‘Stand still for a moment.’

Jack stopped. He had a better view now. The creature looked much more human than he had supposed. Somehow this was not what he had imagined at all. Certainly this creature looked very different from the one he had seen at a distance on Everest’s North Col.

And yet there was also something more sinister about it too. The lack of all movement gave the creature a much more terrifying aspect.

‘Hardly like an ape at all,’ he said. ‘Still not moving. This is strange.’

‘Jack, this is Miles. Seventeen metres is okay if you’re aiming at a stationary target. But aim a little high.’

‘Stationary isn’t the word. Maybe it’s asleep.’

‘Jack, this is Bryon again. I think you should go back. I really don’t like the sound of it. This is classic defensive behaviour among mountain gorillas. They lure you on. Go back, please.’

‘Just a bit closer, I think.’

‘Now, Jack, now,’ said Miles.

At less than seventeen metres Jack fired. He saw the dart strike the figure’s exposed shoulder, but to his surprise the creature remained completely motionless and silent, as if it had felt nothing.

‘There’s something wrong,’ he told the people up on the ice corridor. ‘I’ve fired and I can even see the dart sticking out of a shoulder, but nothing’s happening.’

‘It can take several minutes to take—’

‘No, no. I mean it’s like it didn’t feel anything.’

‘If it has a really thick hide and as much body fat as you might need to survive in these mountains, it may feel only minimal trauma,’ said Jameson. ‘Could be no more than a flea bite to an animal that size.’

‘Hold on. I’m going to have a closer look.’

‘Jack, no,’ protested Swift.

Coming closer now. Jack frowned and said, ‘I think this is going to be okay. Whatever it is looks like it has been dead for some time.’

Near enough to reach out and touch it now. Jack bolstered the pistol and started to brush away some of the snow and ice. The head lolled slowly backward. The mosaic of snow-covered hair was quite fair underneath. The mouth, slightly open, revealed a row of nicotine-stained gap teeth. And the eyes were still open in a face that looked almost alive. Blue eyes. Staring at him now. Like someone...

Jack yelled with horror and started back against the ice wall.

‘What is it, Jack?’ said the voice in his helmet. ‘Jack, are you okay?’

Nauseated by what he had found and trembling with shock. Jack slumped down on the icy shelf and took a deep unsteady breath of the warm air circulating inside his helmet. If he could have touched his face he would have wiped the cold sweat that had suddenly broken out on his brow. He felt like he had been punched in the stomach. It all came rushing back to him. The last few seconds before the avalanche that had swept him off the mountain face and killed his old friend and climbing companion. There he was, hanging upside down above the ledge, held tight by the packed snow and ice that had dumped him there, months before.

Like a lost glove.

Jack rose numbly to his feet and brushed some of the snow away from his dead friend’s face. He hardly looked dead. His skin was unmarked, with not even a bruise; instead, he looked as if he was keeping very still for a photograph with a long exposure. As if he might only have to beat his arms against his side to pump some life into himself. As if, at any moment, he might pluck some of the many white plectrums of ice from his beard and speak.