The Ascent(41)

“I suppose.”

“That’s why the guides turned back after the bridge,” I said. “That’s why they wouldn’t lead us into the Valley of Walls.”

“The Valley of Walls is considered a gateway to the ridge and the first in many stops along the way to the Canyon of Souls. There are others, too—the Sanctuary of the Gods, the Hall of Mirrors—and many of the indigenous people of this area will not corrupt the land with their presence. Simultaneously they believe we’re corrupting it by being here. To them, we’re no different than a band of grave robbers.”

He gripped my shoulder and squeezed it. It was a gesture very unlike him. “I meditate to maintain a connection with the land and to show my respect. Please don’t let that weaken your trust in me to lead this mission. I haven’t lost my mind, and I haven’t dragged you all into something I can’t handle.”

“We shouldn’t be here.” I cast a wary glance at the sky. It was as clear as lucid thought. The moon hung fat and yellow, larger than I had ever seen it.

“You never struck me as the superstitious type, Overleigh.” He was back to using my last name, and I was helpless to remember the day we first met in San Juan. This caused me to think once again of Hannah …

“Has nothing to do with superstition,” I corrected him. “I know for a fact that we’ve pissed off at least one of the locals from Churia. I met him, and he didn’t seem too happy with our little crew.”

“Don’t let that bother you.”

“And then there’s Donald Shotsky.”

“What about him?”

“For one,” I said, “the fact that he’ll never make it. He’s been struggling already, and we haven’t even started to climb. The man’s never climbed anything more strenuous than a flight of stairs in his life.”

“We’ve already discussed Shotsky. I’ve explained it to you.”

“You’ve explained your deranged reason for wanting him out here, but that doesn’t make it right.”

Andrew chuckled and repeated the word deranged, as if it were the punch line to a joke.

“Make me a promise.”

“Yeah? What’s that?” Andrew said.

“Promise me you won’t break him. Promise me that if he can’t make it to the end, you’ll cut him loose.”

“I’m not holding a gun to the man’s—”

“So then promise me you’ll let him off the hook if he feels he can’t finish this.”

Andrew’s fingers drummed on his knees. “All right, if he feels he can’t finish …”

“And that you’ll give him the money.”

His eyebrows froze in twin arches above his eyes. He said nothing.

“The twenty grand,” I went on. “Promise me.”

His eyes narrowed, and he clasped his hands in his lap, staring at the blackened heap of carbon that had been our bonfire earlier this evening. “And if I don’t promise?” he said, not looking at me.

“Then I walk. Right here, right now—tonight. I’ll pack my shit and head back to the valley. You flexed your muscles a few minutes ago and told me to do just that, but I know that’s not what you want. You’re here to make us all better, to fix what you think is broken in us, just like you said. Despite what you said, you don’t want me to leave. You very much want me to stay.”

I was working off a hunch, not quite sure what Andrew wanted. For one moment, I thought he might actually tell me to pack my stuff and leave. But when he faced me, his eyes somber and ancient, I knew I had called his bluff. Relief washed through me.

“Twenty grand’s a lot of money,” he said offhandedly.

“Not for you. Won’t put a dent in your wallet.” I knew this was true; after all, he’d paid for the whole goddamn trip.

“Why do you care, anyway?”

“I guess I don’t want another death on my conscience.”

Andrew’s expression softened. “Been thinking about her tonight?”

“You mean Hannah,” I said. It was not a question. And he didn’t need to ask it. “I guess so. She’s been on my mind a lot lately.”

“Mine, too.” He smiled wearily. He looked like he could close his eyes and fall asleep right here. “She was something else.”

“Yes, she was.” I laughed nervously. My vision was starting to blur.

“Okay,” he said. “You’ve got a deal on this Shotsky thing. Against my better judgment, you’ve got a deal.”

“Good.” I shook my hair down in my eyes and pawed at my mouth with one hand. “Christ, I could use a f*cking drink.”

“Then take one,” Andrew said and stood. He stretched his spine, the tendons popping in his neck and back. “Don’t stay out here too late, bro. Get some sleep.”

I said nothing more to him. He didn’t seem to care or even notice. He strutted back to the tent, pausing to urinate over the side of the ridge for what seemed like twenty minutes. For someone so concerned about being in touch with the land, it seemed a rather vulgar gesture.

4



ANDREW’S COMMENT DIDN’T REGISTER WITH ME

until I awoke maybe an hour later back in the tent, the tendrils of a passing dream still tickling my chest. I rolled over and blindly groped for my pack until I found what I was looking for.