This is a more humorous, if dark, story.
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*
“Do you see any Yetis?” Thomas Mann called over the howling blizzard.
The Sherpa ahead of him paused only long enough to glare at the idiotic Englishman behind him who had pestered him until he agreed to continue the climb up the mountain.
And now they were going to die.
By every god ever thought of and Karl Marx, the Sherpa thought. I just hope he dies before me.
His name was Jangbu, but at the moment he did not feel wise like his name meant. Instead he felt a fool. His father, his father's-father, and so on back as long as his people had lived here had lived in this region knew not to climb the mountain when bad weather was threatening.
Yet he had anyway, because he found Thomas Mann so annoying he just wanted him gone. The sooner the man failed in his venture, the sooner he would be gone.
“Further on!” he called back to Thomas Mann.
For three weeks the Englishman had pestered him about Yetis. Very few had heard of or spoke of the legends, and even many of his people regarded them as myth.
But Thomas Mann had spoken of nothing but that. He did not care for supplying them. He did not care for discussing the mountain, or even ascending to the top.
“What do you think is prime Yeti territory?” he had asked.
“The Yet-teh, if it even exists, is a very elusive beast. None can be sure where it can be found.”
“What do you suppose they eat? Perhaps we could put out something to attract it.”
“We have lived here for many, many years. We have never caught one of the creatures. I think if they were easily caged, we would know. Now, Sir, we must procure supplies if we are to attempt to reach the summit.”
Mann blinked slowly, looking almost confused. “I am not interested in the peak, my good man. But from what you say they seem to be wily beasts indeed.”
Jangbu's face fell. “Sir, one could live their entire life here and never spy a Yeti.”
“Well, I should hope it won't take me that long, but I have money and time, and I can think of nothing more important than this!” Mann smiled in a strange sort of genuine way. It should have been almost endearing, but somehow it was only annoying coming from Mann.
Who could have turned down such a job? Thomas Mann had plenty of money and was careless with it when it came to his guides. He wasn't so much foolish as completely oblivious.
It seemed so easy.
Raising a hand, Jangbu signaled for a pause. “There is a shelter from the wind here!” he yelled.
“Splendid!” Thomas Mann replied. Somehow, he seemed to be taking the cold in stride.
The two men huddled into the small cave, which was really more like just a small dip in the side of the mountain. They had to be over three thousand feet by now.
“I say, do you know where we are?” Thomas asked him, pressing his mouth nearly to Jangbu's ear.
“Sir, you have the compass in your haversack,” Jangbu replied, trying to ward off the deadly cold. They would be dead soon if they did not begin a descent immediately. Even if they did, they might not survive.
“Oh, yes, well, I didn't bring it. I thought I told you earlier?”
The Sherpa man felt fear claw at his heart even more than the cold. “You do not have the compass?” he asked incredulously.
It was idiotic for not everyone to have one, but Mann had proved to be stingier with buying necessary supplies than he had with other things. Unnecessary frivolities he had described such things as pick-axes and ice cleats. And compasses.
“I thought I told you to bring it?” Mann said.
“Sir, you told me not to bother.” It was only by incredible force of will that Jangbu did not scream.
“Oh, right. I'm sure we can find our way, though, don't you think?” Mann looked at him like an ignorant child at an adult who he assumed could fix his own problems.
“We must begin our descent immediately.”
Now the Englishman looked thoroughly surprised. “No, man, that is certainly not possible. I have chartered this expedition for two weeks.”
“We will die if we do not descend!” Jangbu yelled, his temper breaking.
“You make it seem so dramatic! A little cold never hurt anybody.”
That silenced the Sherpa man as surely as a punch to the throat. “How many mountains have you scaled before, sir?”
“Scaled? I grew up on a rather large hill, and one time I went to a castle that was built into the side of a mountain by carriage.”
Jangbu's mouth dropped open. He regretted it instantly as the bitter cold nearly froze his tongue. “On your application you wrote you were an experienced mountaineer. You listed contacts and great details!”
“Yes, well . . .” Mann looked away, feeling a smidgen of guilt. “I may have fabricated slightly with the help of a friend. I thought it would look more impressive.”
“You have killed us both!” Jangbu's hands went for his pick. His anger was a burning inferno that temporarily warded off the cold.
“Perhaps we could slowly wind our way down the mountain so that we gradually go lower to allay your concerns, but still maintain our search for the filthy beast. Would that help?” Mann asked.
A yell of fury escaped Jangbu and he lunged with the climbing pick.
Mann looked genuinely alarmed, which pleased the Sherpa. It pleased him less when Mann managed to lean to the side in time to avoid being killed.
“Bother, you nearly harmed me, man!” Mann stared at the pick embedded in the ice and suddenly gasped.
The ice cracked, and the crack grew steadily larger. The ground beneath them cracked, and both men cried out in fear as the floor fell out beneath them.
Jangbu fell only a few feet into soft snow. Mann fell fifteen feet onto rock, and he was quite poor at making his landing safe.
“Bother!” Mann said in shock more than pain. He started to climb to his feet, only to fall back down. “I think I broke my ankle!”
The Sherpa slowly picked himself up as well. “It looks as if you can climb these rocks, they seem secure.”
“I can't, for my ankle is broken!” Mann replied, his voice bordering dangerously close to a whine.
His anger faded as the realities of survival took hold. “I have rope, let me throw it down. Can you hold onto it?”
“I'm not sure, but I don't wish to remain in this cave. One's spirit can be stolen if they should fall asleep in a cave!”
Ignoring him, the Sherpa guide threw down the rope. Mann grabbed it tightly and Jangbu prepared to pull. “Hold on tightly, and I shall pull you up!”
*
It has been two days since my tragic fall in the ice-cave, Thomas Mann wrote in his journal. Since then my faithful Sherpa guide has dragged me across the ice towards base camp at the foot of the mighty mountain.
They lay in a crude bivouac, Mann wrapped in multiple blankets, his hands covered in many gloves. Jangbu was collapsed next to him for warmth, nearly dead from exhaustion.
“Rest,” Jangbu said. “We have far to go tomorrow.”
When Mann had become injured, it changed for him. If he left the man behind, he knew he'd forever regret it. Worse, coming back home without his charge would bring him eternal shame and ruin his chances for ever being a guide again.
“We must keep a record for posterity,” Mann replied. “But rest, my friend.”
Jangbu wished to tell him he was not his friend, but was too tired.
We have yet to sight a Yeti of any stripe, which saddens me. If I could still walk then I would stay, despite the record blizzard. Sadly, this is not an option.
In only a few hours the blizzard began to abate, and Janbgu roused and announced they must continue during this slow spell. Grabbing Mann by a rope tied around him, he continued on the trek, dragging the other man with him.
“Ow,” Mann complained as he hit a rock.
“Hold on!” Jangbu said, stopping suddenly.
“What? What is it?” Mann asked. The Shirpa's voice sounded frightened.
“I see something,” Jangbu said, his voice sounding quite pale.
“Is it a mih-teh?” Mann demanded, struggling to turn around in his bulky clothing. “If it is a dzu-teh, do not fear, for they are harmless to man! We need fear only the mighty mih-teh, who are horrendous beast-men!”
Jangbu could not reply, for he was too shocked. Something was approaching them through the lightening snowfall. It was walking on two legs straight towards them.
The haze of falling snow kept the details hidden. Mann was still struggling to turn around when it finally began to be apparent.
“A bear!” Jangbu said in shock.
“Do not be fooled,” Mann said, managing to catch a glimpse. “The Yetis are known to wear the skins of bears as disguises!”
No they aren't, Jangbu thought, but his attention was forced back to the bear, which was steadily coming closer. “We need the rifle!”
“Rifle?” Mann repeated. “We must not shoot it!”
“It's a bear!”
The bear lunged closer and roared, flecks of spittle and foam coming from its mouth.
“And it's rabid!” Jangbu added in terror.
“I do believe that I am laying on the rifle . . . What a pity this is! Why couldn't it have been a Yeh-teh?”
“Move!” Jangbu screamed, rolling Mann to the side to reach for the rifle.
“Oh bother!” Mann yelled as he started to roll down a slope.
Jangbu got the rifle up just as the bear reached him. The beast was awkward in its upright movements, and weak from the disease driving it into a maddened rage.
I am too tired to run, Jangbu realized. Too tired from dragging Mann.
He fired the rifle just as the bear mauled him, swinging one of its mighty paws and terminating his career as a mountaineer guide and human being at the same instance.
Mann rolled another thirty feet down the hill before coming to a stop. He rose slowly to his knees. “Jangbu?” he called back up the hill.
There was movement; two large masses came down the hill after him, and he automatically jumped back.
He realized what he had just done. “By Jove, I must have merely sprained my ankle. What a blessing!”
The two forms reached the bottom of the hill. One was the bear, shot dead by the Sherpa's rifle. The other was the Sherpa himself, killed by the bear.
“Oh bother . . . poor man, you never even got to see a Yeh-teh with me . . .”
Where should he go now? Slowly, Mann turned, and as he did he saw lights.
“It's the base camp!” he said. Had Jangbu not pushed him down the hill, he realized they would have passed it in the storm. “Thank God!”
Mann paused. “Poor Jangbu . . . He died saving me.” He knelt by the man, whom he now considered a friend. “Do not worry, my poor fellow. When I discover the Yeh-teh, I shall name him for you. Yes, Hominid Jangbu! It sounds wonderful. I know it would put your soul at peace.”
Mann stood, nodding. His ankle hurt, but he was still alive. And that meant that he would still find the yeh-teh.
*
FINIS
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