The man at the Peak

I'll do it. Thought Gopp as he struggled to rub his hands together. His breath vaporized deep in his throat before it reached his palms. Still, it felt as if his hands were before a great hearth, if only for a moments at a time. No one will ever know. No, not 28,000 feet above sea level. I have to do it. For Orlando. For his Nellie. That bastard will pay. I'll make sure that he won't even be a landmark on this mountain. He gripped his ice axe firmly.

Two Hours Earlier:

"Four hours! We've been climbing for Four hours!" yelled Orlando. "And now they decide to pull this stunt!"

It was Orlando's third attempt to recover as he swung himself back and forth from the anchor above. Suspended thousands of feet in the air and being blown about by gusts of icy chill and snow, he found the strength to give yet another swing. With a flick of his ice pick he was finally able to wedge the thing well enough between rocks where he could bring himself back to the mountain side. He held on as well as he could with his other hand, though the the break stung all the more.

"Gopp!"

There was no answer.

"Gopp!" He yelled again.

"What!"

"I think it's broken!"

"What?" he asked again. Squirming through the blizzard, Gopp cupped one of his hands against his head trying his best to block the wind.

-Orlando raised his hand up in a loose limp- "Broken!"

He shook his hand a couple of times which seemed to drive the point home.

Gopp pointed upward and Orlando understood. They had only to climb fifty more feet to the top of the ledge which was much closer considering the couple hundred they'd have to climb to go back down. They continued their ascent. As it turns out, it's much more difficult to remove cams when your hand was broken. But there were no two ways about it. They couldn't continue the climb without unless he did his job. Orlando did the best he could through sheet grit. It wasn't long before they were at the top, where Gopp gave a good long pull helping his friend up. They moved to a small crevice in the mountainside. The deep alcove was completely made of ice. What little light came through the clouds glittered in the walls around them. This was something the two wouldn't notice. Instead, Gopp looked through his pack until he found a small orange bottle. With a twist he presented multiple pills to his friend who gladly crunched all of them and chased them with water. Cold sweats formed in the valley of Orlando's back as they both looked at an hand that bent in one more place than it should. It was beginning to turn blue.

"We need to go back." said Gopp.

"Yeah, yeah . . ." He agreed. Warm sweat quickly froze on his eyelids as he gave a long hard blink. "Where did all those rocks come from?"

"It was hard to tell but I think it was O'Neil."

"He wouldn't do that now would he?"

"Hard to tell. There's a lot on the line, you know. Fame and money tend to be more potent than any magic."

"But there's no way he'd kill someone over a few bucks."

Their eyes locked. The look in Gopp's eyes said otherwise. People do more for less.

"Listen," Said Gopp, "we can't go back the way we came. It's far too dangerous. The only way to get you back to camp is if we go onward and take long road back. The climb near the end should be a lot shorter and by the time we get there, those pills should kick in. Now, we can't stay here any longer. If we don't get moving we'll-"

"-freeze. Yup, yup. I know."

Orlando stretched his arm out which was met by Gopp's rapid pull. Once on their feet, they loaded their packs, even though it was insisted upon that Orlando leave his behind. He wouldn't consider it saying that his back was perfectly fine and he'd just toss it over the edge once they had to climb. 'At least there's a chance we'll find it at the bottom.' he'd say.

After a few more quiet moments in the alcove, the two left it's safety as straight into the blizzard which was beginning to die down. They continued onward up the mountain while footsteps crunched along in rhythm. It put them in a trance, giving them something to focus on other than the beating of the wind. Orlando was thinking of how he'd explain this failed expedition and broken hand to his wife and daughter. They'd put half their life savings into this 'once in a life time' dream of his and now he's failed because of what was in the very least bad sportsmanship and the very most an attempt on their lives.

In Gopp's mind the only thought was how in the world he'd get his limp-wristed friend down this mountain. There's no way he's climbing with one hand. He thought. He tried to imagine various way they could string themselves and possibly take a few extra precautions. They all seemed like good options. Great, in fact. The alternative was giving him a large dose of painkillers and keep them going during the climb. The second option seemed more likely. His thoughts were interrupted when he noticed that the blizzard had subsided. He looked back to his friend who followed along in his tracks. He seemed hopeful and was even humming some tune they'd heard on the radio while traveling across Nepal. This put a smile on Gopp's face. As he turned back around he noticed a figure less than a hundred meters above them. He seemed to be shouting something.

"Hey, whats that guy saying?"

Orlando look up toward the figure and tried to listen closely. "It sound like . . . like O'Neil's incoherent screaming."

"Why would he be-"

Just above them a deep, compounding tumult could be heard. A small chunk of snow seemed to have dislodged itself from it's rest and was rolling in their direction. Behind it, what seemed like the rest of the mountainside was sliding down, flowing in a great frosty tempest which grew as it approached the two.

"Run!" Yelled Gopp.

Both men ran as fast as humanly possible in a field of snow. They threw one leg after the other as the sunk deeper into the snow.

"Hold on!" they both yelled. But it was too late.

They Gopp screamed silently as he twisted and turned, unable to breath as the powder suffocated. Eventually, it would all come to an end.

Gopp awoke to a great headache. Greater than any hangover he's ever had. Disoriented, he spat. It landed right on his face. Realizing that he was up-right he quickly dug his way up to the top of the snow. He was never more happy to see sunlight in his life. It was blinding but most certainly welcome. After many calming breaths a thought popped into his head. Orlando. Where was he. He stood as high as he could. Searching carefully, he saw what appeared to be Orlando's bright orange pack near the edge of a cliff. Cautious as ever Gopp gradually made way to the pack. He pulled it toward him and saw that it was alone. No. Looking over the edge of the cliff, he found what he dreaded to see. Orlando's body lay on an outcropping of jagged rocks. He didn't move. No vapor of breath could be seen from his mouth. He was no more.

Gopp dare not wail but wept silently clutching to his friend's pack as hard as he could. He remained there for what felt like much longer that had been. The stress had made him woozy. Gopp struggled to catch a breath. The thin oxygen at this elevation was going to be the end of him. He reached into the spare pack and pulled out a small oxygen tank and mask. The first oxygen rich breath pulled him back to reality. The following few brought him stability. The breaths after that invited calm which were followed by anger.

He looked to the now barren mountainside, scanning for the one responsible for his friends death. O'Neil. He was no where in sight.

Present:

Gopp had made up his mind. O'Neil wasn't going to leave this mountain alive, nor at all. There was no forgiveness to be found on this mountain. Not after Orlando's murder. Gopp knew there would be no justice if they ever made it back down. O'Neil would simply blame the elements and there was nothing anyone would be able to do about it. After taking a few more supplied he buried the pack. The least he could to since Orlando would never see a proper burial.

He trekked along following the path to the top of the mountain. That was where he'd find their assailant, at the height of his personal glory. He didn't know how much time he'd lost after the avalanche nor in his brief moments of grief but he knew this. O'Neil and the German were one team. That meant he had a single advantage. Speed. No matter how much time he'd lost so far, he'd catch up to them within the hour. With this renewed vigor, Gopp moved in stride. He would have his revenge.

It was now nearing evening. The weather was calm as it should have been from the start. The sun blazed, melting the snow on Gopp's jacket. His goggles protected him from the sun's reflection on the snow but he could feel the rest of his face burning more than ever, even in such cold. Gopp wiped his mustache for the hundredth time. He wasn't far now. He could see O'Neil's team just meters ahead. They hadn't bothered to check back for anyone following them. Typical. They'd surely thought that their deed had wiped their only competition of the side of a cliff. How wrong they were.

Within minutes Gopp was within earshot of the two. His steps were in sync with the German for fear they'd be alerted to his approach.

"You know you didn't have to do that." said the German. "We had them beat from the start."

"I din't want't take chances." said O'Neil in a swift, hard to understand accent. "They'd've us by now."

"Even so, there's no need to kill anyone. It's just a simple competition"

"No need'e says. No need. There's always need Gary. Even'f they would't've beat us today there's no need't hold back. B'sides, I don't plan on comin down this mountain. This's it for me lad."

Before the German could pose a question Gopp interrupted, "I don't plan on you coming down this mountain either!" He then grabbed Gary from behind and tried forcing him to the snow. What he didn't anticipate was that Gary was much more sturdy than he appeared. He managed to turn around an throw Gopp down into the snow. What Gary didn't expect was that Gopp had stuck his ice pick in between his back and pack. With that leverage, Gopp managed to force the German to the ground and began rolling down a slope. What they both didn't expect however was that O'Neil would cut loose the bright-green rope that tied the team together the moment he saw the two rolling down the slope on their way to a cliff.

O'Neil didn't bother going off to save his teammate. Instead he watched for a moment and wished the two a 'bon voyage' as he continued on his merry way while the two tumbled over the the edge of the cliff. Gopp watched as Gary fell swearing him his native tongue even once he was far below the clouds. Gary met an unfortunate end at the end of his fall. Fortunately, Gopp remained at the edge of the cliff with his pick holding on by a whim at the icy end. He hung there having a moment while a cool breeze whistled by his ear. After he process what just happened he was able to summon enough strength to pull him self up the cliff. After all this is over, he swore, I'll never touch a mountainside again.

The episode was now drawing to a close. That was what Gopp hoped as all that remained between him and the mountain peak was a ridge-line path and O'Neil. There was no where else to run. So run was what Gopp did. Even though the slightest breeze could very well blow him off the ridge, he ran. His rush didn't go unnoticed. Not far off, O'Neil swung his head around after hearing rocks fall off the mountainside. He saw an enraged man in his red winter jacket hurrying towards him. An ice axe clutched in hand while his gear rattled on approached. Grabbing his oxygen tank O'Neil threw his pack off and hurried at a pace surprising for his age. Gopp soon passed the place where the old man had cast his pack off the side of the ridge and raced on jumping over lumps of snow and stones.

O'Neil had reached the peak. His life's journey had led him to an image that most can only dream of seeing. He watched the clouds pass through mountains before him. The sun had almost completed it's cycle and now headed for peaks beyond the horizon. The air was colder. The wind quiet. The man ready to take his life behind him. They were finally face to face at the top of the world. Gazes exchanged through goggles. Faces behind masks. This was something O'Neil didn't seem too fond of.

Gopp watched the old man remove his mask and chuck the air tank into the snow. His did the same with his goggles, except for throwing them off the edge. O'Neil laughed.

"Here we are pal! The end'f the world. You've got me."

Gopp breathed heavily into his mask. He urged to make his strike but held back. Orlando's death couldn't be for nothing. Striping off his mask he finally asked.

"Why'd you do it O'Neil."

The man huffed with a smirk. "Why'd I do it?'

"Tell me why my friend had to die? Was it the money or the fame?"

"Neither. T'was neither son."

"Then why?"

"Tis the greatest race kid. The last race . . . for me. Why hold back."

"You would've won regardless."

"True. I'm much better than the rest'f you. But what good story doesn't have a bit'f tragedy to it? The greatest man must've the greatest story. Your friend would've never been remembered if he'dn't die in the race against the greatest climber. Now you get t'make'em immortal son. Immortal." As he finished his sentence the old man coughed up a handful of blood then showed his palm to Gopp. "I'm finished'ere as well."

"You'll never get your grand story O'Neil." Gopp tightened his grip around his ice axe. "They'll only know the story I'll tell them."

At this O'Neil's eyes widened.

"The story I'll tell them wont even have your name in it. You'll only be known as another lost climber on his way to greatness."

"Fool! You wouldn't let your dear friend die for nothin."

"You lose O'Neil. As for me, I'll have my revenge."

"Kid 'f I don't get my story then you don't get yer revenge." With that, the old man raised his arms to his sides and walked backwards to the edge of the peak. Gopp stumbled to grasp the man, longing to plunge his axe in the the man's throat but he was too late. His hand had grasped air.

Gopp shrieked as he threw his ice axe as far as his strength allowed him. He sat at the top. Alone. The sun slowly trickled behind the horizon until it was gone. Gopp was filled with nothing but dissatisfied emptiness. The cold wind continued to blow and his oxygen was almost gone. He threw it to the side and reached for another one in his pack. He sat a little longer as stars painted the sky. Pretty soon he would have to start on his way home. Somebody had to tell this story.