Snow Blind (29 page)

“No, no, no,” Chris repeated as if he had failed to guide a lamb safely away from a cliff edge.

I elect to be the first noise. Light shifts up the valley. I have saved them; I must save Dan. I pull back the thin curtain material. I knock the room chair over, maybe on purpose. I wash my underarms and between my legs with the postage stamp of soap and scratch them dry with a thin overused towel. Sweat has cooled in my clothes, moulding them for me to put on again.

I clatter down a flight of wooden steps, heels of ski boots clunking, open boot fastenings rattling. Claude the owner topples three plates onto the table: ham, salami, Gruyere.

“
Bon matin.
Thank you and your friends again for your help. Will the helicopter fly okay?”

“There is nothing to stop it.” Claude ambles to the unlit window. He must be able to read weather systems in the dark. A small layer of light blue enters from the bottom of the window the longer I stare at it. The sun is rising to our rescue.

“Great news, thanks so much for calling them.”

“You will pay for this.” In what way Claude?

“Don't you think he will survive?”

“Maybe not. Only with big strength will he survive. In the head, in his mind.” Claude has outlined Dan's biggest challenge. “No. You will pay for your lost friend?” I see that he was really asking how we were going to pay for the rescue helicopter.

“All of us will pay.” We may pay twice.

“About a thousand Euros, no?” He advises me, clearly not considering the cost of human life.

“We must get to him before the helicopter arrives.”

“No, no. You must not make more mistakes. I have arranged Hal and Jacques to get you down the mountain.” Two heads appear, leaning back from their bench, nodding their chewing faces to acknowledge me. They had all come down silently before me. Without knowing, I suspect Jacques is the man who opened the door to me last night. I feel uneasy, reminded of my proximity to disaster.

“Hey Jules. That was amazing what you did. Climbing a seventydegree ice cliff with two broken ski poles, awesome. Are you a climber?” Hal seems to have an easy Californian sensibility; Jacques looks at me with thunder in his eyes. I move to sit opposite them.

“As soon as the sun is up we are out of here. Got a day's climb to fit in as well.” Hal insists.

“Where are my friends?” I ask Claude, doubting whether they are.

“
Chambres cinq, neuf, dix, quatorze.
” Was that last one fourteen? I clatter back up the stairs and knock sharply on all the doors. Max opens immediately and comes down with me.

Back at the table Max joins in “We did okay last night. These guys took turns to come down on a rope and abseil us back up. You couldn't see where your feet went. The snow collapsed but we got through it.” His adventure is expressed without considering my own more difficult experience.

Carbs and coffee pick me up further. Johnny brings Steve down. We all settle across the bench from Hal and Jacques.

“
L'Anglais sont si arrogants.
” Jacques is pissed off with us. No one looks at anyone else except me.

“
Ils n'ont aucun respect pour la montagne. Ces abrutis d'Anglais. On va rater une journée d'escalade à cause d'eux. Sans doute qu'ils n'ont pas d'autre moyen d'aider leur ami. Ils m'écoeurent.
” He knows we don't understand but I comprehend. He is berating us for risking ourselves on the mountain without a guide.

“Claude says you will guide us back to our friend. We are so grateful.”

“Yes, but where is your guide?” Jacques doesn't have my language difficulty. “You come to my mountain. You have no preparation. You have no experience. You risk avalanche. You lose your friend. You don't know where he is. Yes, I love to help you people. If I hadn't come for water I would not hear the door and you would all be little English popsicles. You don't care for life.” His delivery is emphatic, but he looks over my shoulder to avoid eye contact. Robert appears at the column at the top of the table, smiling behind our challenger.

“That maybe true, but I know exactly where Dan is. I have a GPS location; I have pictures of the mountains where we left him and I have marked the spot with my other ski pole. We may make mistakes.”

“Causing trouble as usual Juliet? Is this garlic-injecting Neanderthal trying to get in your pants or is he just getting on your tits?” Robert arrives refreshed.

I have seen this before. I once insulted a bouncer at the Mud club on Tottenham Court Road, with Dan loyally tugging me away. When Dan hit the pavement and skidded under a parked car, the obvious lesson was that when a man needs to lash out, most luckily he can't hit a woman. There was real shock on Robert's face when he crashed across the cheese and meat table; so rarely are his insults met. One clean punch to the chin from Jacques was unsuspected.

“I rescue you and you give me this. Outside, we go.” Jacques stands up and saunters past the stricken Robert.

“Hey guys. Keep him sweet. He has passed up his day's climb for you. Let's get to your friend and hope for the best, hey.” Hal smoothes the tension and follows Jacques onto the wooden veranda. White light at the windowsill; azure blue is in the window's centre.

Robert peels Gruyere from his shoulder and places it on his plate. He rearranges the spread and returns to our table a broken man. Facing people down orally is one thing, showing everyone that he doesn't possess the physical prowess to back it up has made us all see through him.

Our group stares intently at the table. We silently give thanks we are alive; starting to realise the enormity of the hole we face if Dan isn't.

“Guys. Dan is with us; he's hanging on waiting for us. You were all hand picked as his best men; so let's all show him he is special to us now. I came here to tell him I had his child when we were living together, my son Ethan. I had to tell him before his wedding so it didn't cause future upset. Look, we have all let him down so far, but not now. The chopper will be up from the valley floor soon; we have to locate him on the ground. Max, Steve, Johnny, let's go outside. Robert, come as soon as you can.”

We assemble our abandoned gear on the veranda. The sun makes a burnt halo over the eastern tips of the Alps. We can't look directly towards it.

“As soon as she comes over that ridge properly we will go. It will be hard crust so take it easy. Jacques will lead; I will be the tail. Give Jacques your phone. If anyone can get that GPS location he can.” Hal forms a bridge between the group.

“You English fall in line now?
Alons-y!
” shouts Jacques gliding down the trail leading away from Refuge.

C
HAPTER
45

Dan 06.58.

Handbills frantically dance across my face, whipped across the night sky by the downdraft of aircraft engines. They make wing-like fluttering sounds as they flock around me. I catch one and hold it up towards the light of the plane ahead of me. VERBOTEN is hand stamped on it across a swastika, as the lights catch the edge of the rough imperfect paper pulp.

I know a plane is nearing as it rips a bigger space in the sky, both with light and noise. It's coming all right, buffeted by the bills I stand in defiance of the truth. Stand up to this one now; something tells me to stay put. The engine echoes against something, a hanger maybe, the engine betrays an older more imperfect age of flight as they rip and roar satisfyingly. Hang on, is it landing or taking off? Another handbill glues to my cheek; three more rip paper cuts into my left hand. This one advertises ByeFly; my inane words scatter across it in the name of the kings of cheap flights.

I have power here. Everyone looking on expects me to run but I know better. For once I am sure. A pink break in the clouds on the horizon leaks from behind the plane. I listen intently for a change in ferocity of sound and light but they seem constant. With my eyes closed I still can't tell. Let it be taking off please, just get out of here will you? Prove my strength right this time. To my right is a wooden gallery, full of trench-coated wearing reporters waiting to judge. I hope their flashes fade with no image worth capturing. It feels like a time when truth will out.

The engines race towards a take-off, yes a take-off. I am to feel the force no more. The sound closes down into a more singular rasp now; a more closed noise intent on delivering flight. Bills are birds now, the whitest doves searching for a way out of the air pocket that pounds us all. I grab a bird one handed, his shifting eyes tell me he is anxious to leave. I turn and throw him away towards the gallery; off balance I fall over. My right shoulder takes the impact as the bird is sucked up into oblivion above me.

I am on the tarmac as the plane leaves sight. I liked its reassuring force, but it dissipates with every second. I was right to stay. The photographers have gone, abandoned hats and cameras strewn on the steps. I can enjoy the air on my skin as it settles again. The intense cold of the tarmac remains; I cannot distinguish between the pains in each of my body parts.

… Dead cold…

…It's morning…

…Sharp breath stabs…

…No animals above…

…Morning…

…Hand on chest…

…Dare not move…

…It's morning…

…Just drop off…

…Just go.

C
HAPTER
46

Juliet 07.52.

“C
AN A MAN SURVIVE?”

“There's my pole! There it is.” I scream, my high pitch revealing my expectation it would be lost.

Jacques' legs take on new purpose; elegant pushes take him on a direct track across the untouched snow. He breaks the crusty top layer creating a virtual railroad track for us all to ski. Clear blue sky, rising sun, but we feel no heat yet. We speed up but still fall well behind. He manoeuvres directly above Dan, throwing himself to the ground on his chest. He is talking to him. My god he is alive. Married in a wheelchair maybe? Will he have a ring finger? But he will be married next week. He has to get married, he has to.

As I arrive Jacques is sitting up talking into a radiophone, presumably guiding in the mountain rescue team. Part of me resists the conclusion of what I might see if I look over. Is he there at all? He's there; except for his flatter right ski Dan hasn't moved. Conserving his energy? Maybe just waking up? Does it take longer in hypothermia? Has he signalled to Jacques? Come on Dan, something. We have to get him out; we have betrayed him here.

“
Non, aucun movement. On voit sa tête et ses mains. On peut l'atteindre avec une échelle. Pas trop d'espoir, mais ces idiots sont assurés.
”

“Hey Frenchie, what's the score? Is my mate alive?” Robert pushes past; our synthetic jackets brush each other with a swish. He unclips his skis and starts to shout into the crevasse. “Dan, you lanky git, are you okay?”

“
Arrête-là!
” Jacques breaks off from the call to shout at Robert.

“What do you mean? I will look out for my friend if I want to.”

“No.
Arrête
. Stop there you idiot.”

Robert is enraged. “I will do what…” With the phone cradled into his ear by his shoulder he clasps Robert's leg and snaps his right ski back on as if manipulating a puppet.

Taking the phone from his ear, he shouts. “Everyone. Ground unstable. You must keep them skis on. You must stay back now…” Robert dutifully clips the second ski back on having fallen foul of his own safety advice.

“Okay, okay, you will see. Over…” The valley dampens the rumble of the rescue helicopter. Each rotation of the blade brings relief. A potential solution is rising through the valley. Oh please let them do it.

“Dan, Dan, mate,” Johnny breathlessly calls out, but his fear takes all meat from his voice; it is the pained cry of a loved one. Still no movement but words are drowned. The red helicopter rises into view. We have all seen the Hollywood scene, but we are living the rescue. I can watch that movie again.

Someone can do the rescue better than me now. Two men rip out of the sliding door, carrying a rolled up metal ladder, heading straight to Jacques. Within seconds of assessment, the ladder is being secured into flat ice well away from the edge; the second rolls it over and follows it. I watch him kneel beside Dan; checking for a pulse on Dan's neck, for the warmth of his breath.

He stands with a distinct thumb up. Johnny and I hug each other in hope, but realise he may have only signalled for the stretcher.

Jacques has made it down the ladder to help. They barely have room to flatten the stretcher, but they lift Dan on all the same. Straps cocoon him. With everyone back up the ladder, the two helicopter men raise Dan from the crevasse and lay him on the ground beside us. He skin is grey blue; a cut has matted black hair on the back right side of his head. Ice has formed on his sideburns and lips.

We all remember Dan again. No longer a desperate suspended memory; now a fragile life before us. Robert collapses to his knees, arms tucked into his thighs. He rocks at Dan's side screaming to him above the noise of the chopper. He grabs Dan's arm and shakes him, pleading for resolution.

“Waiting did you say? Waiting for what Dan?” Dan's lack of response is crucifying him. Robert's behaviour had reached a crescendo, a build up that requires a fall.

“Let him go. Let them take him you idiot.” Max shoves Robert roughly away from the stretcher, sending him sprawling. We see two ghosts, one broken by nature, the other by himself. Dan's ghost is picked up and pushed into the chopper.

“You must go now,” Jacques shouts into my ear from behind. I pull out the ski pole I left behind. Crystals have formed most of the way up the stem, so it takes some persuasion.

“No, no. On the helicopter, you go with him.” Jacques holds out a gloved hand that I take. He kisses me on both cheeks. “You have saved him. You saved all of them.” I am knocked back by his simple but apparent conclusion.