If you hear the screams, it’s too late

I heard the sound of a blood curdling scream that woke me out of my sleep at 3am. At first I thought I had imagined it. And my heavy eyes shut closed again. Shivering from the freezing temperatures, I curled into a fetal position and went back to sleep. I was amazed that I could sleep at all. It’s probably because I’m exhausted from climbing, and the roar of the wind emanating from the mountain sounded serine, much like waves crashing on a beach. It was so soothing that it relaxed me to the point that I forgot I was freezing my ass off. My name is John C. Whitestone. You probably heard of me. I’m the twentieth richest man in the world. Soon to be number one. And up until this point, I have conquered everything in my life. I made my first million at age thirty. Started my own hedge fund by age forty. I became a billionaire by age forty-three. Got a president elected by fifty. I have surfed in South Africa, scuba dive in the Great Barrier Reef, and skydive in Thailand. And I’ve even seen the Seven Wonders of the World. I journeyed to the bottom of the ocean in a submarine. I traveled to space in Jeff Bezos’ rocket, Blue Origin. And now the only thing left for me to conquer, is Mount Everest.

           It’s June, the middle of summer, but no sign of the sun. Just an overcast filled with snowflakes in the air, and a blistering temperature of -10 Fahrenheit. But this cold was different. It was a penetrating cold that wrapped it’s claws around your lungs and squeezed the very breath right out of your body. Every inch of my skin is covered to prevent frostbite, as my blood struggles to make its way through my veins. I lost feeling in my toes, and even my eyelashes had shingles of ice on them. Still, there was nothing more majestic in the world than the snow top mountains of Everest. At night the stars are so bright and close it feels like you could reach up and pluck one out the sky. Looking at the colossal peak in person was like staring into the face of God. And the rumble that echoed through the valleys of the mountain sounded like his voice. It was if he was calling me to the peak. That imagery gave me all the fuel I needed to battle these treacherous conditions.  

Laying in a sleeping bag, inside my tent, I heard another scream. Then another and another. I sprung to feet and stuck my head outside the tent. I could see the Sherpa waving and screaming at the top of his voice, “Avalanche! Run!”

It took me a couple of seconds to snap out of my fog and realize what was going on. I looked up behind him and saw one of the most beautiful and horrifying things I’ve ever seen in my life. A massive layer of snow and ice sliding down the side of this gigantic mountain. It was surreal, like something out of a disaster movie. I was frozen in place, both metaphorically and literally as I looked on. Everything seemed to be happening in slow motion. I scrambled and grabbed my things and took off behind the others. A group of twelve adventurist men made up my team of climbers. We moved as fast as we could, but there was two feet of snow on the ground, so running fast was impossible.

The snow sliding down the mountain was getting closer and closer. Our Sherpa ran toward a steep canyon and waived for us to follow. We found a spot under a ledge and behind the mountain so we could partially block the avalanche. It was a helpless feeling, like being in the passenger seat of a car right before a head on impact. I could see the fear in everyone’s eyes as the ground began to tremble beneath us. Then the sound was loud like a nuclear bomb just exploded. That’s when my life flashed before my eyes. Suddenly, all I could see was white. For a moment I thought I was in heaven. But this was no heaven. It was a frozen hell. And what I saw. What I felt. What came next, is to gruesome for me to tell……...

                                               *

Ten years later a limo pulled up to the home of John C. Whitestone in the Hamptons. His beautiful thirty-acre estate sat right on the Atlantic Ocean. The private gates opened, and the limo drove down a winding path covered with green ash trees to an entry way of the sprawling manor. The driver jumped out the car, sprinted to the back, and opened the door for Chauncey Monroe. Chauncey stepped out the vehicle with his cleft chin held high in the air and his chest poked out. Looking down his nose at the property, he gave a nod like he approved. Then he shot his cuffs in his Armani suit to reveal gold cufflinks with his initials. After he straightened his tie, he snapped his fingers at the driver and said, “Get my bags.” 

           The driver looked at him in disgust for a second before fetching the man’s bags. The doors of the entrance opened and John came walking out using a cane. 

           “Afternoon. So glad you were able to make it,” John said with a big smile as he greeted Chauncey with a firm handshake. “It’s Chauncey right?”

           “Correct,” Chauncey replied shaking his hand, but his stoic face and stiff demeanor remain the same.

           “You’ve come highly recommended. My staff said you are one of the best chefs in the world.”

           Chauncey cut him off and corrected him, “The best.”

           “Yes, yes. Of course. So, we are so glad that you could join us. I don’t know if you’re familiar or not, but my group was part of a tragic expedition to Mount Everest ten years ago. We were trapped for a week during an avalanche. I’m lucky to be alive. I lost my toes on my foot to frostbite,” John said tapping his cane against his right foot.

           “I’m familiar with the story,” Chauncey responded.

           John looked up at the blue sky and reflected for a moment. Then he finally added, “You never feel more alive than when you’re facing death.”

           Chauncey looked at his watch and tapped on the face of it, “I got a schedule to keep.”

           John just smiled as he patted Chauncey on the shoulder and said, “I knew you were the right man for the job. Well, the nine of us who survived our ordeal get together every June to remember the fallen and celebrate our survival. We take my yacht out to sea for a week.” John pointed to his massive yacht. It was on a private dock at the end of a long wooden pier. John stepped in front of Chauncey and locked eyes with him. He cleared his throat and said, “And we only want the finest cuisine for our voyage. That’s why you’re here.”

           “Yes. Your staff in New York briefed me on your expectations,” Chauncey replied. “Is the galley equipped with everything I requested Mr. Whitestone?”

           “Of course. And please, call me Jack. All my friends call me, Jack.”

           “As you wish, Jack. Show me to my kitchen.”  

           Chauncey followed John down to the dock with the driver following closely behind, dragging his bags along. The Darwin style yacht called, The Everest, looked picturesque floating on the ocean with the sun shining behind it. As they approached, they saw the other eight guest standing next to the ship. Their eyes were glued on Chauncey and they whispered amongst themselves. Then they flashed these phony looking grins at him as John made the introductions. “Chauncey, this guy here is Mathew.”

           Mathew stepped forward and shook his hand. Then he squeezed his arms and looked him up and down like Chauncey was a ripe tomato. “Pleasure to meet you my boy. Fine specimen. Fine indeed,” Mathew commented. 

           “Nice to meet you too,” Chauncey replied giving him the side-eye.

           “So tell us a little about yourself. Where you from?” Mathew asked with a strange smirk.

           Chauncey raised an eyebrow and replied, “Los Angeles.”

           “Los Angeles. Nice city. You have family there?”

           “No family. I’m an only child and both of my parents have passed on.”

           Mathew nodded his head and said, “Good. I mean, it’s good that you have made something of yourself and continued on with your life, despite your loss.” Mathew gave Chauncey a reassuring pat on the back.

           Chauncey wasn’t sure how to respond, so he forced out a smile. 

           Then John introduced him to Henry, Steve, Tim, Gerald, Jerry, Arnold, and Hayden. And they all had similar greeting like Mathew. Chauncey paid them no mind and made his way onto the ship. He found his quarters and settled in. Next, he made his way to the galley and started putting his menu together for the first night’s feast. A Mediterranean salad for a starter, with fresh olives from Italy. Then he was going to hit them with a crab cake and his world famous avocado and wasabi dipping sauce. Next, he wanted to knock their socks off with his Chilean seabass and asparagus sautéed in olive oil. And top it off with a fabulous crème brulee.

           The ship took off as Chauncey began to cook. Everything turned out perfect. The food hit the table at precisely six o’clock. Just as the sun said it’s goodbyes for the evening. But much to Chauncey’s dismay, the guest hardly touched their food. They nibbled on it for a few before leaving to go down below. Chauncey was left scratching his head. He never had this kind of reaction to his food. After cleaning the kitchen, Chauncey stepped outside and pulled out his vape pen. He popped in a cherry cartridges and took a hit. As he exhaled he looked out at the calm waters shining from the moon light. The Hamptons were out of eyesight. They had the ocean all to themselves. It was quiet. Too damn quiet, he thought. He looked at his watch, it was only nine. These guys were older, but not that old to be going to sleep this early.

           Chauncey walked into the main lobby and said, “Hello. Hello.”

           No body answered. Rubbing his chin, Chauncey became more curious by the minute. He knew that rich people are eccentric. He’s seen and heard it all before. But usually their noisy. Big parties. Sometimes they even get freaky. Most of the time they forget he’s even there. And Chauncey always kept his mouth shut, that’s why he’s trusted in these circles. Still, something about this scene was different. The lights were out. Nobody talking. It made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

           Chauncey continued to look around. He went down to next level where the rooms were. He crept down the hall pressing his ears against the doors. Not a peep. He lightly tapped on a door just to see if someone would open it. No answer. He went to the back of the ship where the hot tub was located. It was empty. He looked over the railing in the back, and noticed that the ship stop moving. Shaking his head, he went back inside and proceeded down another flight of stairs. He saw French doors and thought they’re probably in there.

           Chauncey gently turned the knob, but the door was locked. He tapped on the door, and when he did, it cracked open. They didn’t close it back all the way. Curious, he poked his head inside the dimly lit room to discover it was a sort of trophy room. Looking in both directions behind him, he snuck in to get a closer look. The first thing to catch his attention was the stuff deer head mounted on the wall. He strolled over and rubbed his fingers across the skin. It was real. Then he looked to his right and saw the many pictures of John and the rest of the guys posing in front of different mountains, with their climbing gear on. Next to that was a glass case. Moving closure to get a better look, he saw a rock labeled Mount Everest. Next to that was a huge globe. Chauncey ran his fingers across it and saw that it opened to reveal a bar. Turning his attention to the wall behind him, he saw these white looking silhouettes. It was darker on that side of the room. So he hit the light switch to get a better glimpse. When the lights popped on, Chauncey fell backwards in shock. He couldn’t believe what he saw. Ten skeleton heads on a large mantle.

           “I see you’ve found my trophy room,” John said standing at the door in his climbing gear.

           Chauncey’s heart began to race as he stumbled to his feet. The words came stammering out his mouth, “What the hell is going on here?”

           Mathew and the other men, all dressed in their climbing gear too, came walking into the room. Surrounding Chauncey. John walked over to the skeletons and rubbed them as he turned and locked eyes with Chauncey.

           “Nobody, other than the men in this room really knows what happened on that mountain. And the funny thing is, you never know how far you’ll go to survive, until your put to the test,” John said as he paced back and forth, “That avalanche should have killed us all. But it didn’t. It only took three of us the moment it hit. Bam! Just like that, James, Robert, Michael were dead. Slammed into the mountain. And the rest of us sat there with their dead bodies. Waiting. Our supplies buried in the snow. Nothing to eat. Not know if anyone was going to save us,” John said trading glares with the other men. “Four days past and we were starving. So, we did the unthinkable. We ate the body of one of our friends. And you know what we discovered?”

           Chauncey was backing away from John with his head on a swivel. Then he carefully asked, “What?”

           “We discovered we love the taste of raw flesh,” John revealed as he licked his lips.

           Chauncey quickly did the math in his head. Ten-year anniversary, ten heads on the shelf. He shouted, “Shit! Your cannibals! No wonder you didn’t eat the food! This is trap!”

           “You do catch on fast,” John joked as he took an antique machete off the wall and rubbed his index finger across the blade.

           “Why me?” Chauncey asked with fear in his eyes.

           “You matched our criteria. An asshole with no family.”

           The other men pulled out their knives and creeped closure.

           “Wait! Wait! Please, you can’t do this! Somebody will come for me!” Chauncey pleaded.

           John laughed and said, “Come for you. Nobody knows you’re here. Hell, nobody will even hear your screams.”

           Chauncey let out one last primal scream, “NOOOOO!”

                                                           The End