“You’re serious?” I asked. “We’re counting onice?”
“Nature is your friend if you accept that it is always in charge,” Bakari said, smiling. “It’s the way of the climb.”
“We have never had a client even need the helmets,” Kito added reassuringly. “We’ve never had a problem of any kind crossing the Western Breach. But it’s always correct to take precautions.”
Van pushed himself up from the table, his numbers fully improved and safely recorded, his red hard hat wobbling on top of his head. He reached to tighten it. “Let’s all just think positively. I’m living proof,” he said. “So, seriously, exactly how long is today?”
“It takes as long as it takes,” Bakari said, evading the question. He never wanted to tell us how long, or how far. It wasn’t the worst strategy—for hiking and maybe for life.
“We cross the breach, then have lunch at the crater,” Kito added. “And then we will see where we are. We may summit this afternoon.”
“Today?” Richard asked.
“You sound disappointed.” Bakari laughed. “We can have you hike extra if you like.”
“It does feel sudden,” Van said. “Personally, I was hoping for an epiphany, and it hasn’t gotten here yet.”
“Ah, second thoughts. I knew it.” Richard clapped Van on the back.
“Knew what?” Brooks asked.
“He’s changing his mind about the sale,” Richard said.
Van shrugged. “You got to follow your heart, right?”
“Goddamn idealist,” Scotty muttered, but good-naturedly. “Guess I’ll have to get rich the old-fashioned way—rifling through purses at the Racquet Club.”
“There is still time for inspiration,” Kito said with a genuine gleam in his eyes. “Once the sun is up, you will see things most people will live their whole lives and never see.” He smiled brightly as he handed me the oximeter.
I clipped my finger in and tried to relax. Breathe, breathe, breathe—it worked sometimes to make your numbers a little better.
Eighty-seven ox, 108 pulse. A tiny bit better. Not mandatory go-home numbers. But still, at sea level, I would be dead.
I pulled it off quickly. “Ninety and one-oh-five.”
When I looked up, Richard was eyeing me.I’m fine,I mouthed when no one was looking.
“Okay!” Bakari clapped his hands together again. “Let’s go!”
As everyone filed out, Richard put a hand on my arm, holding me back until the voices had drifted some distance away.
“Promise that you’ll say something if you’renotokay?” Richard asked. The concern in his eyes felt like a thing I could reach out and touch. “So I can do something—or have someone with actual skills do something.”
“I promise.”
Now we had a secretanda promise. Richard stared at me in silence. Finally, he moved his hand from my arm to my face. Held it there. For the longest time, I forgot to breathe. Then, Richard pulled his hand away.
“I’m sorry,” he said once to me and then again as if to someone else. “Sorry.” He sounded winded. And then he stepped toward the exit and was gone.
—
We were quiet as we hiked single file in the frozen darkness. I tried not to notice my cheek tingling where Richard’s hand had been. Or that my legs felt shaky. I focused instead on the path in front of me, but that wasn’t easy in the dark. It wasn’t easy when the ground had shifted beneath my feet.
I knew it was supposed to feel wrong. And it did in my head. But not at all in the rest of me.
There were three more guides added for the rock scramble ascent over the Western Breach. They were interspersed among us, with Kito and Bakari at either end. Were they there to shield us from rocks? To catch us if we slipped?
It was very slow going over the rocks with only the headlamps, the glow at our feet no bigger than a flashlight’s beam. The more important guidepost was the person in front of you—sliding, pitching right, leaning left, slowing as they climbed, accelerating on a downhill.
