Chapter Forty-Six
I picked up the pace to catch up with the others.
“What’s going on down there?” I asked Ang Dawa. “Is it Doc? Is Luke okay?”
“Luke’s not with us.”
“I know, but where is he? Is he okay?”
“I don’t know.”
“What about Doc?”
“She’s snow-blind.”
I’d heard correctly. Guilt struck me. When I’d given her a hug on the summit slope, she hadn’t been wearing her glacier goggles. I hadn’t been thinking clearly, or else I would have said something.
“She’s doing okay otherwise,” Ang Dawa said. “Dawa Lama’s walking with her.”
I relaxed. Doc was strong, and the snow blindness would likely be gone by morning. “What else is going on down there?”
“Juan’s feet,” Ang Dawa said. “Can’t walk.”
The blood from his blisters had probably frozen his feet solid inside his boots. Not being able to walk this high on the mountain was a really bad thing because he was still a long way above the highest altitude a helicopter could land, which is Camp Two.
The small group of us continued descending. The last of the light disappeared sometime before we reached the Balcony, and we turned on our headlamps. The winds were picking up, and the cloud bank that had been gradually rising from the valley all afternoon was upon us now, greatly reducing visibility. All we had left ahead of us was the steep descent of the Triangular Face, then the last bit of gentler slope before Camp Four. But at this pace, that was probably another three hours of walking on top of the eighteen hours we’d already been going today.
I kept thinking about the tent awaiting me at Camp Four. I could practically taste the warm tea on my dry lips and feel the cozy heat of my thick sleeping bag. Talking to Luke on the radio would be wonderful, too. I’d finally have relief from my gnawing unease about his health, and I’d find some way to secretly tell him I was coming to Washington so that he wouldn’t have to suffer any longer from thinking everything was over between us.
At last we saw the lights of Camp Four through the snow that had started falling. I practically collapsed with relief. But as we got closer, it was clear that the camp was in chaos. Several of our guides were caught up in the critical first steps to save Juan’s feet and more were responding to Johnsmith, who had passed out while drinking water. Furthermore, there had been conflicting reports of four people dead in a Camp Four tent from apparent carbon monoxide poisoning, and Thom and some of the Swedish guides were trying to locate them.
I asked Tyler what I could do to help, but seeing my unsteadiness on my feet, he told me to go back to my tent.
But when I got there, Doc was not in the tent. I shook Claudia awake, and she confirmed Doc hadn’t returned yet.
I found Norbu first. “Where’s Doc Teresa?”
“Tent.”
“She’s not there.”
He spoke rapid-fire Sherpa into his radio.
“She’s still up at the Bulge. They’re going back up there with a splint and more oxygen.”
“Why a splint? I thought it was snow blindness.”
“Yes. Dawa Lama was helping her walk, but she tripped. She thinks her leg is broken.”
Guilt hit me again. If only I’d said something about her glacier glasses being off! “Who’s up there with her?”
“Phurba Lama.”
“You mean Phurba Sherpa?”
“Phurba Lama. And Hulk.”
No.
“Hulk is with Juan and Johnsmith, and I passed Phurba Lama a few minutes ago. He’s over by Phil’s tent.” My mind raced. Was Doc alone up there?
“I’ll go get Hulk,” Norbu said.
I shook my head. Hulk was in emergency response mode right now. Of all of us, he was the one with the most medical experience.
“I’ll wake some Sherpas,” Norbu said.
It would be another twenty minutes to get them going, and who knew how long Doc had already been sitting up there in the snow, alone? We must have walked right by her, but the clouds made it impossible to see anything past the beams of our headlamps.
“I’ll go now, and the Sherpas can follow with the splint,” I said. “The oxygen will help her stay warm. How far back is she?”
“Twenty minutes. Just to the side at the top of the Bulge.”
Norbu went to wake the Cubans’ Sherpas, updating Jim on the radio as he walked away. After twenty-one hours of aerobic exertion in zero-degree temperatures, part of it without oxygen in the Death Zone, I was in no shape to be doing anything but collapsing in a tent.
Dad would be pissed if he knew. But this was Doc. I had to go.
With a fresh tank of oxygen and a spare in my pack for Doc, I headed back out.