Iced!: The 2007 Journal of Nick Fitzmorgan Page 7

  Jiban said, “I want you both to put on your oxen masks and keep them on from now on. I would not want to have our first climp up Chomolungma be our last.”

  You didn’t need to tell me twice. I now knew how weird I could get without oxygen. I put on my mask.

  Chomolungma is the Sherpa name for Mount Everest. It means “goddess mother of the world.”

  Our next destination, Camp 3, is the most dangerous of all the camps. It’s halfway up the Lohtse Face, a steep 3,700–foothigh wall of glacial ice. You have to pitch your tents on narrow icy ledges that are totally unprotected from the wind. If a storm were to pop up, we’d have nowhere to go and would have to hunker down with nothing but hope to shield us.

  Jiban was looking up at the sky. “I don’t like the looks of those clouds,” he said, pointing to a dark dusting of clouds off in the distance.

  “But We have to go on,” I urged. “We’re so close now.”

  Jiban continued to examine the sky for a moment. Then he looked at me. Something in my face seemed to make him change his mind. “Okay,” he said. “We can keep climbing. But we must tie ourselves to one another. If a storm does develop, I don’t want any of us to get lost.”

  Jiban pulled out a long coil of rope and three clips. We each attached one end of a clip to our waist and the other to the rope. With about 20 feet of rope between each person, Jiban was in the front, then me, and finally, Maura.

  “We’re gambling a lot on your hunch, Nick,” Maura commented as we started to climb again.

  “Are you beginning to doubt me?” I asked.

  “No,” she said with a smile. “I’m just making an observation.”

  We were climbing for about twenty minutes, making pretty good progress, when the strangest thing happened.

  Maura’s satellite phone started to ring. Even 40 feet away, Jiban heard it. We both gathered around Maura.

  MAURA’S PHONE RANG!

  She quickly removed her gloves and oxygen mask. She pulled the phone from her backpack. We were on the side of the world’s highest mountain, and Maura was taking a phone call. Bizarre!

  “Yes?” she said as she answered the phone. After a moment, her green eyes flashed with excitement. “Hello, Judge Pinkerton.” Judge! I felt a wave of relief wash over me. Maura spoke into the phone. “Yes, ma’am, well, it’s a long story. Yes, he’s right here, let me put him on.”

  I pushed up my oxygen mask as I took the phone from Maura.

  “Judge?” I said.

  “Nick! Are you okay?” The connection was almost completely filled with static, but her voice was the best thing I’d heard in days.

  “Yes, we’re one. I—”

  Our voices were overlapping from the bad connection. Judge spoke quickly as if she knew we might be cut off at any second. “I finished my investigation and got your messages about your father still being missing. We’ve been able to triangulate your location by zeroing in on Maura’s satellite phone. I know exactly where you are, and I’m sending assistance. Go back to Camp 2 and wait there. Did you hear me, Nick?”

  “Yes, Judge,” I said, “but—”

  “Nick? Did you hear me?” her words were almost drowned by static. “Nick, if—”

  And then her voice was gone. I looked down at Maura’s satellite phone. There was no signal.

  I gave the phone back to Maura and told her and Jiban what Judge had said. “She wants us to go back to Camp 2 She says help is on the was.”

  A STORM WAS COMING!

  “All right,” Jiban said, looking up at the sky. “I cannot argue with that. The storm I feared is now most certainly on its way. We must be very careful.”

  And he was right.

  About five minutes later, as we were heading back down to Camp 2, the storm hit. It was almost like I had blinked and, suddenly, we were in the middle of a blizzard. I imagined that this was what it must be like to be lost in thick, dark smoke. At its thickest, I couldn’t see more than a few inches in any direction.

  Somehow, I got spun around, and the rope that connected us wrapped itself around my shins. I couldn’t walk. And yet Jiban was still pulling on the line.

  I unclipped myself from the rope for a second so that I could untangle myself—and then I fell.

  The rope slithered out of my hands.

  I called out, but I could barely hear my own voice.

  I tried to retrace my steps but realized they were already covered in snow.

  The wind screamed around me, and the snow felt like carpenter’s nails on the part of my face that wasn’t protected by my goggles or oxygen mask. There hadn’t been time to put on my ski mask.

  I was in serious trouble.

  Find shelter! I screamed at myself.

  But where?

  There! There was a rock face that might protect me. I walked over to it—and through it. It hadn’t been a rock face, after all, but an illusion created by the blowing snow.

  I turned to go back and fell again.

  This time, I skittered down the icy slope directly toward the edge of a cliff. I felt my oxygen mask tear off my face, and it was gone.

  I tried everything, but I couldn’t slow myself down—I was going to plummet over the side. And that would mean certain death—

  My feet shot over the edge—

  And a hand reached out of nowhere and grabbed my arm. I had been moving with such speed that my body swung out and back onto the cliff.

  I looked up at my savior.

  I expected to see Jiban or Maura ….

  But it was a man wearing a bright red down jacket and matching red snow pants. His face was nearly hidden under the red cap and snow goggles he wore. But in an instant, I recognized him anyway.

  It was my godfather! It was Uncle Benny!

  I COULDN’T BELIEVE UNCLE BENNY WAS HERE!

  June 9, 2007

  3:50 PM

  In my shock, I decided the hypoxia must be back and stronger than before.

  What was Uncle Benny doing here on top of Mount Everest? Who would I see next? My third-grade teacher strolling down the mountainside?

  I rubbed my eyes, trying to see if the vision would clear.

  Uncle Benny let out a loud laugh. “Kid, you’re not dreaming!” he shouted over the howling wind. “It’s me standing with you here at the top of the world.”

  I glanced quickly around. More like dangling from the top of the world. We were on a narrow ledge that was covered with ice. On one side, just behind me, was the cliff that had almost taken my life. On the other side, a rock outcropping about the size of a minivan jutted into the air behind Uncle Benny.

  I gaped at him. “Uncle Benny?”

  “In the flesh,” he bellowed. “What the heck are you doing up here, kid?”

  “I’m so glad to see you!” I cried. “I’m looking for Dad. Did he come to Everest with you?”

  Uncle Benny nodded and said more quietly, “Yes.”

  “Where is he?” I demanded.

  “Your dad wanted to come here to research his script.” Uncle Benny crouched down so he was closer to me. “I came along to help. He figured you wouldn’t be home for another week or so. He didn’t want you to worry about him climbing up here, so he decided not to tell you that he was going.”

  That sounded really strange.

  “Where is he?” I asked again.

  Uncle Benny shook his head. “We almost reached the top. We were about 2,000 feet below the summit …”

  “Right where George Mallory’s body was found.”

  “What’s that?” Benny asked me.

  I realized that I must have spoken out loud. I was still feeling a little dizzy, and the buzzing was back in my head. I tried to focus all my attention on Uncle Benny. He continued, “When the storm kicked up, we decided we’d have to reach the summit another day. We started to make our way down, and …” His voice trailed off.

  “And …? ” I prodded, almost not wanting him to answer. “And what?”

  Tears filled Uncle Ben
ny’s eyes. “Your dad …, ” he said. “Your dad is missing. It was stupid of us to climb up here without a Sherpa.”

  “What do you mean MISSING?” I could barely form the words.

  For a second, he said nothing. The wind whipped against us, stinging us with icy snow. Finally, he spoke. “Kid, I’m afraid that your dad is gone.”

  “GONE?” I was horror-struck.

  He lifted up his goggles so I could see his face. “He got lost in the storm. And I don’t think there’s any hope of finding him.”

  Other kids might have burst into tears, started shouting, or maybe even fainted.

  But I was too busy watching Uncle Benny’s face. Even if I was having a tough time breathing, my detective radar was apparently still functioning. “What did you say?” I said, keeping an eye on his every move.

  “Your dad is somewhere out there. Lost.”

  There! Uncle Benny’s lower eyelids reddened and his brows lifted ever so slightly. I doubt many people would have even noticed these changes, but my mind zeroed in on them.

  “Why are you lying?” I asked him.

  And it was like watching a deer freeze in the headlights.

  Uncle Benny stared at me. “Oh, kid, now why would you say something like that?”

  “Because you’re not telling the truth,” I said.

  “The truth about what?” He put his goggles back over his face.

  “I don’t know,” I replied. “But I do know that my dad didn’t get lost up on this mountain—”

  And that’s when Uncle Benny rushed at me, his arms out.

  Was he going to push me over?

  My body reacted before I could even think about it. I jumped to the side and fell to the ground—just as his gloved hands landed on my shoulder.

  I grabbed at the slick ice as he yanked on my jacket, but there was nothing for me to hold onto. “No!” I shouted. Maybe it was my terror-filled voice that caused him to stop.

  For whatever reason, Benny suddenly pulled away. I lay on the ground near the cliff, out of breath and terrified.

  Benny’s sudden violence seemed to have startled even himself. He took another step away from me, holding up his hands as if to say he meant no harm. He plopped down on the nearby rock outcropping, using part of it like a chair. I pushed myself up into a sitting position. We looked at each other, breathing heavily.

  Without a word, Benny reached into his pack and took out his oxygen tank. He placed the mask over his face and breathed deeply.

  UNCLE BENNY KEPT THE OXYGEN MASK.

  I eyed the oxygen with real hunger. Altitude sickness was striking. My earlier hypoxia attack was nothing compared to this. My vision was blurry, and I felt disoriented. I was so sleepy, I could barely hold my head up and had to fight to stay alert. If I didn’t get oxygen soon, my body would begin to shut down.

  Finally, Benny removed the mask. “I thought that I could get you to believe me. I guess there’s a reason I’m a producer and not an actor.”

  “Why did you kidnap my dad?” My voice sounded like an empty gasp. I was surprised he could even hear me.

  “Oh, kid, I feel bad about all this,” he said. “You know, I was the one who came up with the idea for making a movie about Sir Edmund Hillary’s famous climb. My last few movies have flopped, but this one, this one is going to be different. Your dad helped me out with the research. And then, always the detective”—he spat this last word as if it were something disgusting—“he decides he has to find Mallory’s camera to discover the real truth!”

  I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “All this is about a stupid movie?”

  “IT’S NOT STUPID!” he suddenly screamed at me. His face flashed with rage, and I thought he might attack me again. But then he seemed to get his emotions under control. He chuckled bitterly. “Well, one thing was stupid. Very stupid. I named the movie HILLARY: FIRST TO THE TOP. Can you believe it? I poured millions of dollars into that movie—every last dime I had.”

  “So what?” I wasn’t getting any of this. I just wanted to find my dad.

  His frustration boiled to the surface. “Didn’t you hear me? The movie is called HILLARY: FIRST TO THE TOP! And your dad is trying to find Mallory’s camera that could show Hillary wasn’t first. No one wants to see HILLARY: SECOND TO THE TOP. I’ll be completely wiped out of this movie tanks.”

  “I don’t understa—” I couldn’t finish my sentence. I was sucking at the air like a goldfish that’s been dumped out of its bowl.

  But it didn’t matter. Uncle Benny seemed to have almost forgotten that I was there. He ranted on. “That film could show Mallory standing at the peak of Everest. That would make my movie the world’s biggest joke!”

  “Just … change … title,” I sputtered.

  He gave a fake laugh. “Ha! Well, thanks for that idea,” he said sarcastically. “It’s too late to change the title. A huge star has signed a contract to play Hillary. If I change his character to Mallory, I’ll have to pay him double. Posters are made, action figures are being sold, ads have appeared. … I can’t back out now.” He was almost screaming. “Everything—my money, my reputation—is on the line! If Mallory’s camera exists, it must be destroyed!”

  Uncle Benny suddenly stopped ranting. He looked at me with tears in his eyes. Real ones, this time. “You’re my godson. Without thinking, I saved you from falling over that cliff …” After a pause, Benny added, “And that might have been a mistake.”

  I felt a chill unlike any other in my heart.

  “What are … you … going to do?” I stammered.

  “Do you think I’m going to hurt you? Ah, kid! I’m not going to hurt you,” he said in a soothing voice. “You’re exhausted and you’re not thinking straight. I’ll tell you what. Why don’t you close your eyes and rest for a second? Then we’ll figure out what to do about your dad, okay?”

  “No! Not okay!” I tried to yell. But my words came out slurred, like, “Na, nah okay.”

  Uncle Benny smiled as if I had agreed to the plan. He put the oxygen mask back on his face and watched me.

  He was right. I was feeling more and more sleepy. Without oxygen, my body was literally dosing down.

  I craved sleep like I’d crave a turkey dinner on Thanksgiving.

  But a voice in the back of my head told me that if I closed my eyes, I might never open them again.

  I would sleep forever. And that might be exactly what Uncle Benny wanted.

  I struggled to my feet.

  “Sit down, kid,” Benny said gently. And when I didn’t do as he asked, his voice became as cold as the wind. “I said, sit down.”

  But I stayed on my feet. Well, kind of. I wobbled back and forth, teetering close to the edge of the cliff.

  He watched me, waiting for me to fall. But I managed to stagger a few steps away from the edge as if I was going to walk past him.

  Benny stood up quickly and reached out for my arm.

  I called on my remaining strength and spun away. When I wasn’t there for him to grab, Benny lost his balance.

  His arms pinwheeled in the air for a moment—and then he went down. His head smacked against the rock protrusion—hard—and his body was still.

  I waited a moment before moving again.

  Was this a trick?

  After a few seconds, he still hadn’t moved. Benny had knocked himself out.

  I inched my way over to him and grabbed the oxygen mask that was lying next to him. I greedily put it over my face and sucked in oxygen. I could feel my lungs opening up like flowers in the sun. The pain in my chest eased, and the stars in my vision began to recede.

  “Much better,” I said out loud.

  Now what was I going to do?

  I looked down at Benny. He had a coil of rope attached to his belt. I removed the rope and hog-tied his hands and feet. I heard him moaning and realized that I had tied him up just in time.

  Then I heard the moan again.

  It wasn’t coming from Benny.

  I strai
ned to listen. The noise was coming from the other side of the rock outcropping.

  Someone was over there. And it sounded like that someone was hurt.

  I placed the oxygen mask back over Benny’s face and went to investigate.

  When I came around the corner, I spotted my dad immediately.

  He was propped up against the rock, which had protected him from the most severe effects of the blizzard. There was a gag in his mouth, and his hands and feet were tied. An oxygen tank and mask sat on a supply sled about 2 feet away from him, too far for him to reach.

  “Dad!” I shouted and rushed to him.

  I carefully removed the gag from his mouth.

  “Hi, Nick,” he said with that toothy grin of his. “I see you got my message.”

  I FOUND DAD TIED UP AND GAGGED!

  I WAS SO HAPPY DAD WAS OKAY!

  June 9, 2007

  5:15 PM

  I united my dad, grabbed the oxygen mask, and handed it to him.

  Grinning all the while, he breathed in oxygen, and his color started to return to normal.

  He held out his arms to me, and we hugged for a long time.

  My eyes filled with tears, and when I pulled away, I saw Dad’s eyes were shiny with tears, as well.

  “Where’s Benny?” he asked me.

  Quickly, I told him about how I’d come up the mountain with Maura and Jiban. And about my struggle with Benny, and that he was tied up on the other side of the rock.

  His eyes had widened with fear as I recounted my story. But now they were filled with pride. “Outstanding job, Nick,” he said as he squeezed my gloved hand in his. “You’ve done incredible work.”

  Even though he’d been breathing in the oxygen and was now sitting up, Dad still looked exhausted and beat up. But I couldn’t resist starting in with a question. “Okay, here’s what I’ve been wanting to ask for days: What. Is. Going. On?”