The Ascent(44)

“Shit,” I said. Petras and I dropped our packs and sprinted toward him. I expected to find him unconscious, but as we approached I could see his legs moving back and forth along the ground, carving arcs in the snow. As our shadows fell over him, he moaned.

“What happened?” Petras asked. “What’s the matter?”

“Cramped … up …” He looked like someone in pain attempting to smile.

“Where?”

“Left … leg …”

Petras bent and felt his calf muscle. “It’s tightening up,” he said, glancing at me. He then looked back down at Shotsky and told him to straighten his leg while he massaged his calf muscle.

“Jesus!” Shotsky hissed.

I grappled with the walkie-talkie on Shotsky’s pack, wiping water off it with the sleeve of my anorak and bringing it to my face. “Andrew, this is Tim. Over.”

“I’m okay,” Shotsky said. “Tim—”

“You got your talkie on, Trumbauer?” I said into the handheld.

Andrew’s voice returned, full of static: “Go. Over.”

“Shotsky’s down. Leg’s cramped up. Over.”

“You want help? Over.”

“How’s he feel?” I asked Petras.

“Guys, I’m … I’m fine …” But he was still wincing.

Petras nodded. “He’s coming along.”

I keyed the handheld and said, “You go on ahead. We’re gonna sit out with him for a bit.”

“Stay in the passage along the black rocks,” Andrew returned. I could see him at the crest of the precipice far in the distance. “We’ll set up camp at the top. Don’t leave the passage, Tim. Over.”

“No problem. Over.”

I waited for something more—perhaps for him to keep his part of the bargain—but he did not respond.

“Spread your toes and bend your ankle,” Petras told Shotsky. “Bring your toes toward your head.”

“I can’t spread … my toes …”

“Try.”

“Boot’s too tight.” Shotsky sucked in a deep breath, then blurted, “Fucking boot’s been too tight the whole f*cking trip!”

Without missing a beat, Petras popped the laces and yanked the boot off Shotsky’s foot. Shotsky winced and sucked air in through his clenched teeth. Petras clamped one hand against the bottom of Shotsky’s foot and bent it upward. Shotsky’s toes spread, expanding the tip of his sock like webbing.

“Get bigger boots,” Petras told him after he was done.

Only ten minutes had passed, but Andrew and Curtis had already disappeared over the crest of the passage. Hollinger and Chad were close behind them.

“We lose much time?” Shotsky asked, lacing his boot.

“Not much,” I said.

“Goddamn boots. Goddamn cramping leg muscle. Is it getting late?”

“We still have a few hours of daylight left.”

“Lousy goddamn boots. I’m sorry, guys.”

I waved a hand at him, yet I was anxious to start moving again. My hands were shaking. When I looked up, I noticed Petras watching me. His face held no expression.

Shotsky managed to gather his feet beneath him. He dusted the snow off his clothes, his face red and flushed. I could easily picture him as a bloated Popsicle frozen to the wall of an ice cave, his eyes hardened pebbles recessed into the black sockets of his skull.

By the time we crested the passage, Shotsky was behind again. Petras caught my arm and told me to wait. My heart rate wasthrumming; I wanted to keep going and to get my mind off the remaining alcohol in my pack.

“I’m okay,” Shotsky called from farther down the slope.

“Asshole’s going to break his neck,” I commented to Petras.

“Or kill one of us in the process. Listen,” Petras continued, lowering his voice. “About what you said before—Shotsky and the twenty grand and all. Let’s keep that between us, yeah? No need to let any of the others find out.”

“You think they’d be pissed?”

“What I think is we’ve got a crew of alpha males, each of them like to think they’re the one in charge. They find out this is some kind of mind game on Andrew’s part, and we may have an all-out mutiny on our hands. And seven headstrong individuals going their separate ways on this mountain is a bad idea. So if it’s all the same to you, I think we should keep up the fa?ade. Whatever you’ve learned doesn’t need to leave this passageway.”

“Fine by me.”

“Guys …,” Shotsky called. He leaned against one of the large black stones, breathing hard. The skyline was bruising toward dusk. “Wait up …”

Petras sighed and rubbed the side of his face, covering his mouth from Shotsky’s view. “Anyway, we got bigger problems, I think.”

Petras and I grabbed Shotsky by the arms and hoisted him off the rock. He groaned and said he needed just a few minutes to rest.

“It’s getting dark,” I said, “and we need to catch up to the others before it gets too late. Wind will come funneling through here from the top of the ridge, freezing the place. It’ll be twice as hard to climb to the top.”

Shotsky groaned. “You two are a couple of downers—you know that?”