An Expedition's Delirium

           

Christmas Eve

           As the seven climbers finally mounted a small cliff, a few of them came to similar conclusions. The blizzard was unrelenting and about as subtle as gunfire. It was clear that they couldn't make it through the night.

           These men and women had been challenged to climb Mount Everest in under ten hours--which would have broken the previous record. All of them were experienced climbers and mountaineers. Three of them were American, two were English, while the other two were local. The leader was Marvin Levinsky, a British man who was employed by the military for foreign missions. Because of his expert intuition about Asian geography, it was decided it was best for him to lead. Over the course of a week, he recruited his team and prepped them for what he assured them was the "worst vacation they will ever have.

           The reward for completing the challenge was $12 million, divided amongst the climbers equally. It was an unsaid rule that should any of the climbers die, the divided portions would be larger and distributed less. Nobody wanted to think of death at a time like this.

           "Marvin, we're not going to be able to make it!" Jackson shouted. He was American. "We must stop!"

           "How?! There's no base here!" Marvin replied. He was immensely disappointed they had been caught in the middle of the blizzard. This meant no matter what, the contest wouldn't be fulfilled. Had the climbed for nothing?

          "I heard there was a small village around here," Sarah said. She was also American.

          "How close?" Marvin said.

          Sarah glanced up. They were resting on a slanted part of the mountain, where it blocked part of the oncoming snow.

          "There!" Kessler shouted. He was a Nepali local who traveled on Everest on several occasions. Because of this, in addition to climbing experience, he knew much about the dialect and languages of the region.

          "There" was what Sarah had described. It was a small village, situated on three ridges that stretched across the face of the mountain. The clouds seemed to dissipate around here.

           The houses were all either wooden or bricks. Guessing by the billowing smoke coming out of the chimneys, the village was inhabited. And warm.

           "Come on," Marvin said. 

           He eagerly slid down the slope and arrived at the nearest village house. Thrusting his cold, numb hands to pound on the door, he greatly anticipated solitude.

          The door opened. A Chinese man in a fur coat was waiting.

         "Nǐ xiǎng yào shénme?" The Chinese man asked.

Marvin was at a loss for words. He forgot he didn't speak Chinese.

"Spreken ze mandarin?" He asked.

         The man just looked at him.

         "Hey, Kessler! Get over here!" Marvin yelled.

         Kessler walked right over.

         "You know the languages of the area, right?" Marvin asked.

        "Of course."

        Marvin quietly gestured to the Chinese man. Kessler didn't say anything.

        He gestured to the man again with his hand.

        Kessler frowned, confused.

        "Oh!" Kessler realized. He then conversed with the Chinese man.