I Remember, Once...

II.

Despite putting a good number of logs onto the fire, it seemed to get too cold for if to sustain any kind of flame, or heat. Soon enough, everybody was huddled in their tents, in a bid to stay warm. From farther up or down the valley, we could all hear thunder, roaring in the distance. A thick, heavy fog, fell upon our campsite. That, combined with the now driving snow, made it impossible to see more than a few yards.  After about three hours, the snow started to subside. It took us all a few minutes, to dig through the snow, to free ourselves from our tents. Once free from the snow, we could see that the fog had not lifted, one bit. All around us, and the campsite, was eerily still. There was no sound of wind, blowing down the slope and through the trees. No creaking of the trees, from the missing wind, nor under the weight of the snow. Nothing. Not until somebody took a step out onto that freshly laden snow. As the snow crunched, underfoot, you could almost hear everyone's gaze snap, in the direction of the footfall. There was something strange about the air, though. Something that to me, an educated man, seemed very unusual. As more of us tread upon that fresh snowfall, it seemed that the sound of everybody’s footsteps, seemed somehow deadened. Almost as if there were cotton wool, stuffed in one's ears.

As most of the team busied themselves with packing up camp, four of us made our way a little way down the trail.  As we made our way, further and deeper into the fog, we all started feeling a sense of unease. The fog was quickly getting thicker, as we progressed, and the trail was getting more difficult to follow. When the visibility had fallen to just a few yards, I suggested to the others that we roped ourselves to each other, to be safe. Everything around us felt deathly still. Unnaturally so. I wasn’t sure about the others, but I can certainly attest to my breathing becoming more shallow, as I strained to hear something. Anything. Any kind of sound, coming from off the trail, somewhere in the fog. Try as I might, I could hear nothing out, in that grey-white cloak that blanketed the valley. One thing that was apparent, was some kind of destructive event, that had strewn debris, along the trail. As we descended, there were boulders of all sizes, scattered about the trail. Tree trunks, lay across the trail, making access more difficult. The trunks were not cut, as you would expect lumber to be. They looked snapped. As if great hands had bent them until they gave way, under the pressure. Some looked to have been torn out of the ground, complete with root systems. What could have caused such widespread destruction? It seemed to be unnatural. If you were that way inclined, you could almost use the term ‘supernatural’, I supposed. The trail was now getting to the point where it narrowed. Getting closer to the river and a sharp decline, as the river became a waterfall. The fog was too thick, at this point, to allow the trail to be safely navigated. We turned back, to begin the ascent, towards camp.

The hike back up the trail, seemed to be unduly hard. We had to make several stops, to catch our collective breaths. The snow, on the trail itself, was not that thick. It should not have been encumbering us as much as it seemed to be. The fog wasn’t making the progress any easier. In fact, it seemed to be getting thicker as we made our return. It was with great relief, when some distance ahead, we could make out a pale orange light from a fire. Our pace quickened, as much as it was safe to do so, and we pushed on, with improved vigor. With this new boost, it did not seem to take very long for the tents in our camp, to come more clearly into view, through the thickened, cold, blanket of fog. We could see someone, in the distance, waving at us from near the fire. A small, satisfied smile, curled the lips on my face, upon seeing this. In all honesty, in the depths of my mind, I was expecting to get back to a deserted camp. A couple of us let out short laughs, of relief. As we took a few steps forward, we found ourselves coming to a sudden halt.

One of the climbers, in our group, was at the far end of the rope. The line, that we were all attached to, became suddenly taut. I am certain that we all had the same thought, at first. That there was some coming problem, that we needed to be prepared for. We all turned sharply, to see why we were seemingly anchored to the spot. The figure, at the end of the rope, was Gustav. Or, at least, we were looking at Gustav’s back. He was facing back down the trail. Not that you could really see any of the trail. The fog, that had been such a hindrance to our scouting trip, had seemingly followed us all the way back. It was forming an almost impenetrable looking wall, just behind us. Our rope and Gustav were immersed in it. The fog swirled about Gustav’s statue-like form. From where we were, it looked like ghostly tendrils, or vines, winding about his legs. Even from where I stood, I could see that Gustav’s legs were twitching, and It looked like his body was trying to twist away from the fog wall. I called out to Gustav. Trying to get his attention so that we could move on. We pulled on the line, trying to force some kind of movement, but there was none. He was firmly rooted to the spot, like a fence post. The wall of fog, seemed to swell, and gained some distance on the three of us, up the line. It swallowed Gustav, completely, and the line became slack.

The three of us, still lined together, ran up that trail like the devil himself was chasing us! By some miracle of chance, the line that was trailing behind us, did not catch on anything, as we got closer to camp. The fog slowly followed us, closer to our camp. Once all three of us were within the camp boundary, we pulled in the rest of the tether. We stood there, the three of us, trying to make sense of things. How could this be? We pulled up the end of the line, and Gustav’s belt and harness, were still attached. We had all expected to see that the line had been cut. Instead, we found the line still attached to his harness. Fully secured and attached, as if his body were still within its strapping. Nothing seemed to be amiss. Apart from at the end of one leather strap, that looked, to me, as though something had bitten into it.

The entire camp went about the next few hours in silence. Nobody could explain what had happened to Gustav. Including myself. Of all the expeditions I have been a part of, if there was such a thing, I would have to say that this was the most cursed. Even once the fire had been stoked to a roaring blaze and our meals had been cooked, we all sat in perfect silence. You could almost feel the fear as a living thing, that filled and surrounded the campsite. It was ever present. Ever watching. Even without hearing, or seeing, anything out of the ordinary, we all knew that something was not right. Sleep escaped me, that night. As I’m confident that it did everybody else.