Hell Is Above Us: The Epic Race to the Top of Fumu, the World's Tallest Mountain, Jonathan Bloom [best ebook reader TXT] 📗

put teeth to bark. The saws moved back and forth rhythmically. With a groan that issued throughout the forest – sound waves racing past the parent - the oak tree fell, taking several smaller trees with it. Other men arrived with chains and ropes, preparing to take the tree back to their city, where they would turn their bounty into snuff boxes, mirror frames, pages of Korans, cricket bats, church pews, letters to generals in the field, ship transoms, and myriad other objects that litter the senses of Man. In this way, the flaw made itself known to the world of Man.

The elevator’s wood was snapping near one of the holes where the short rope passed through. Taylor continued his obscene incantations while River Leaf looked for solutions to their predicament. She grabbed the cliff again using the pole of pickaxes, once more stopping their dizzying rotation. As the sun reached the western horizon, the amethyst around them lit up brilliantly. The sunlight reflecting off the amethyst in turn lit up other amethyst previously shaded. It was at that moment River Leaf noticed one part of the rock surface, immediately under the lip of the cliff that stubbornly did not light up.

Above the cliff, Junk had ordered the Sherpa to tie off the rope to a large boulder until they could come up with a solution to the situation. The idea of throwing down another rope was rejected outright because River Leaf did not have the expertise for such technical climbing and Taylor could not be expected to walk her through surmounting a cliff face of greater than ninety degrees. Nor could they be pulled over the lip on a separate rope because if done incorrectly, they would be tenderized against the rocks. After about a half-hour, they came to the conclusion the only way to get Taylor and River Leaf out of peril was to keep trying to pull the elevator over the lip. Sooner or later they would pull when the elevator was at just the right angle to the lip and would rise up smoothly.

Junk yelled down to the two people beyond the cliff, doubting they could hear him over the wind. “I do not know if you can hear me down there, but we are going to pull up again, and we will keep trying to pull up until it works. If you think you are going to flip, just yell and we will stop. Then we will try again until it works!”

At Junk’s command, the Sherpa pulled. Down below, the wood snapped, relieving the Elevator of one of its two connections to the rope. The Sherpa felt the sudden jerk, but the weight they were pulling thankfully did not lessen. The knot of the short rope stuck to the long rope, dropping River Leaf and Taylor a few feet, but still holding them in the air. The two stranded souls were now hanging diagonally, Taylor slightly lower than River Leaf. Her weight was upon him, likely making him twice as miserable as he was before. It was only moments before the extra strain on the one remaining eyehole began to snap the wood. River Leaf was motivated enough by this turn of events to stand on Taylor and take a leap of faith.

The Sherpa heard a loud crack followed by a nauseating slack in the rope and they were thrown back. The knotted long rope’s end came flying up over the lip devoid of anything. Junk ran to the east to gain visuals of the Pass all the way down. To his amazement, he saw Taylor, still tied to the Elevator, glissading at full speed down the entire length of the pass like some mad sleigh ride. The Elevator did not crack anymore. It held strong. Taylor bumped and jerked an infinite number of directions, but he remained strapped aboard the wood and descended at a terrifying pace. There was no sign of River Leaf.

Like a gift from the inspired god who built the Qila Pass, Taylor came to a peaceful stop in the sprawling basin at the bottom, right where Base Camp had been. There was a pause and then through his binoculars, Junk saw Taylor raise both fists to the Heavens in triumph. From over one thousand feet up, Junk heard Taylor give out a cry of victory. It was long and primal and filled the air like an exaltation of larks. Junk responded in kind and when the others saw Junk’s actions, they all assumed the best outcome and continued the chain of elation, whooping and hollering and jumping up and down. The mountain responded by dropping five simultaneous avalanches.

The team mourned the loss of their mate Taylor. However, the mourning was muted somewhat by the confusion about River Leaf. No one could discern what had happened to her. Calls down the Pass went unanswered. Junk told the Sherpa to hold the rope again as he grappled it and hand-over-hand made his way down to the cliff. He secured his feet, digging crampons into ice and leaned over. He saw no signs of any living thing. River Leaf had vanished.

After climbing back up, Junk told the somber group Taylor was dead and River Leaf was missing. A prayer should be said by anyone who was religious and then they would set up camp on the col, overlooking Fumu. Many were in tears. Others, like Cole and Zeigler, were in shock. Zeigler said some words. When the rituals were done the team looked for a flat area protected from the wind where they could set up camp, even though every one of them knew sleep was not going to come that night. Before the first tent pole was removed from a backpack, Pasang Dolma approached Junk and reminded him of the Sherpa who were suffering from altitude sickness, and the only cure for altitude sickness is to descend. He made a plea to Junk: Climb down the other side of the