Whiteout: 10(Ballroom Blitz)

10. Ballroom Blitz

     “All of that gold for three bottles of miserable purple goop. This stuff better work, or I’m coming back to haunt that old man.” As we walked out of the shop I noticed a faded chalk line around the entrance. Or maybe not… Chalk is one of the cheapest methods for keeping out uninvited spirits. With an invitation they can go just about anywhere they want, but until that point chalk is like a brick wall.

     Back in the market the night sky had shifted to become a canvas of brightly colored stars, and a moon that appeared to be melting. It felt like living inside the world of an impressionistic painter. Ahead there was quite the commotion. Shop keeps were in the streets yelling, brandishing swords, and cursing in their various languages. “Looks like someone’s in trouble.” Said Lopsang.

     “We might be in for a bit of fun!” Fights at black markets are always an interesting affair. It comes with the territory of being surrounded by assassins and trained killers. Everyone knows some sort of martial art, and things always get broken. It was the closest thing we had to entertainment in the mountains. “Let’s get in there, I don’t want to miss this.”

     We pushed our way through the throng to where a circle had broken in the middle. In the center were two men rolling around in the street, throwing punches like there was no tomorrow. Scattered around them were ropes, crampons and other climbing gear. “Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me. James?” I inquired to the center of the punching vortex. In between the blows I could hear one of the men muttering.

     “Help me Nick.” It was hard to make out as immediately after he spoke his mouth was filled with an elbow.

     “Sorry what was that?” I had fully intended to stand on the sidelines, but Lopsang was already moving in to assist. Well, here goes nothing. Interfering with a fight in the black market was strictly against the rules, making our exit significantly more complicated. I grabbed a pickaxe off of the ground and twirled it around for the audience to see. “James, you’re going to have to speak up. I need to know which one is you.”

     “It’s me you idiot!” Screamed the darkly masked man on the right. Lopsang looked at me quizzically and then I turned the pickaxe sideways and swung. The dull side collided with one of the men’s skulls and he fell to the ground. A hush fell over the crowd around us.

     “Hurry up James, we’re in trouble.” The unharmed man stood up and brushed himself off.

     “Thanks for that.”

     “Gratitude can wait; we need to move, now.” As it began to dawn on the crowd exactly what had happened, an unruly whisper began to break out. I brandished the pickaxe at the crowd once more and began to clear a path for us. “James grab the climbing supplies.” How in the hell did he manage to find them? Lopsang picked up the rope and the crampons while James grabbed the rest.

     We were almost to the elevator when the first arrow struck my left arm just below the shoulder. “Mother fucker. Haven’t you people heard of a bullet?!” Arrows hurt quite a bit more than people give them credit for. Bullets are quick and for the most part clean. I winced at the future pain of having to pull the damn thing out, as well as the present pain from the weapon sticking out my arm. “MOVE NOW!”

     We dove into the elevator and hid to the sides as the doors lazily shut. Arrows and knives flew through the cracks and stuck in the back wall. Soon we were moving up again, and relatively safe. Then there was a sudden, sharp pain as Lopsang ripped the arrow from my arm and poured mountain wine on it. “Jesus Christ!”

     “For a seasoned adventurer, you’re a bit of a baby. What, never been shot before?”

     “Fuck off. If it hadn’t been for this useless excuse for an apprentice we could have been out of there in no time!”

     “If you hadn’t sent me to get the one thing that wasn’t sold we wouldn’t have had a problem!”

     “How did you get it?”

     “Well, I had no money, I thought I’d offer to fight the guy for his gear.”

     “You what?!”

     “I took Judo in college! It was the only way he was going to give it up. I had it completely under control until you had to show up and brain the guy with a pickaxe.”

     “So we have not only broken the laws of the black market, we’ve stolen from them as well. Thank God for the amnesty law among thieves.” In those days if you were able to escape from the market unscathed then all ill was washed away. That is, until you stepped back in. “Well great, we’ve been banned from the nicest market I’ve ever been in. This is why we can’t have nice things James! Fighting a guy for climbing gear… Idiot.”

     “At least I got it.” The elevator came to a halt and we hurried out as quickly as our legs would carry us. Once we spilled into the street I could not help but laugh.

     “You fought a member of the black market for climbing gear?!” The thought of it was absurd. The boy must have really wanted to impress me, no matter how much he didn’t show it. I think that was his downfall in the end. Pride and ego got him nowhere but the bottom of a snowy grave. I really wish there was something I could have done for him. Maybe I should have left him on the bottom of the mountain, but then again he would have followed me up anyway.

     That evening we set up for the mountain, bags full of rope, freeze-dried food and an assortment of weapons that would protect us on our journey. As we hiked the trail the moon illuminated the blizzard still raging further up on the mountain. In the lowlands a light snow fell, blanketing the ground in crisp white. It was cold, but hiking upward kept us warm.

     “What do you think about all this Lopsang? You were so keen on getting your money back. Little more than you bargained for eh?” He looked at me with a grim smile.

     “I could have just done with my bag of gold back, but I suppose this is more interesting.”

     “Look, do you really want to hear the rest of this? I could lie to you and tell you that everything worked out fine. We killed the yeti in the first five days on the mountain, we all came home and had a big party. The end. What’s the difference to you?”

     “I have an interest in what really happened. I don’t want the media sensationalized story. I want what really happened to you. I have watched your career with much interest for some time now. This is the pinnacle, your defining moment. I would not have it spoiled by any lies or hyperbole.”

     “Amen to that then.” I found myself at the end of another glass, feeling slightly more numb, but still unable to continue. The memory of the mountain was pain. Everything leading up to it had the makings of a great adventure, but everything past was dust. Nothing good came of returning. “I could have just as easily turned around and gotten pissed in some mountain town for the rest of my days. I could have spent my nights fighting off rabid dogs and selling them as creatures from the beyond.”

     “But you didn’t.”

     “No I didn’t. I did what I always told James not to do. I let pride get in the way, and it blinded me in such a way, that I am to this day surprised that I recovered from it. I would have barreled down into the gates of hell if Manchester was going in first. I put my entire team at risk, and that is something I have to live with for the rest of my days. Forgive me if it takes a moment for me to continue.”

     “Take your time.” The man motions to Jeeves to bring more alcohol.

     Just what I need. Senses dulled more, memory shot to death on the wings of an alcoholic supernova. That ought to get me just where I need to be. Tears welled in the back of my eyes, but I fought them back and replaced them with indifference. It wasn’t an easy task, but one that I was well versed in. “I’m sorry. Where was I?”

     “You were heading up the mountain.”

     “Ah yes, trouble started on the trail…”

This marks the end of Book I: Preparation. Tomorrow starts Book II: The Mountain.

18,000 and counting! Woot!

--Mac