Disclaimer: Xena, Gabrielle and any other characters featured in the actual TV series are copyrighted to MCA/Universal and Renaissance Pictures while the rest of the story and other characters are my own.

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PART FOUR

"Good mooooorning, Miss Allison!"

Ugh. She burrowed into her sleeping bag. Just another five minutes.

It seemed as though barely a minute had passed by until now, from the moment when she’d secured her tent and zippered herself up in her sleeping bag for a good night’s sleep. Well… a night’s sleep, anyway, as there was nothing ‘good’ about the restless tossing and turning that newly acclimatizing climbers were prone to at Base Camp.

"Miss Allison, wakey-wakey!"

"All right, Lopsang!"

Groaning, Allison pushed her tousled blonde head to the surface. She took her time, edging herself into a sitting position, expecting to be hit with the shortness of breath, heart palpitations and nail-driving headache that had greeted her each of the previous three dawns. But this day, amazingly, blissfully, there was nothing. Not a trace of the high-altitude symptoms that had been plaguing her.

"And how are you, this fine day?" The brown, smiling face of Lopsang Dorje appeared in Allison’s tent flap. The head Sherpa cook bore a steaming hot mug of tea.

"Pretty good, Lopsang," Allison replied, and she meant it. God, could this be the day that her body at last arrived at an equilibrium of sorts with the mountain? She hoped so. Over the previous three days, she’d done little more than languish in her tent, leaving only for the rocky walk to the dining tent for meals and the odd stroll or two around the Peak Performance encampment, getting the lay of the land. Her every excursion had left her gasping for air and exhausted, and she took little comfort in the fact that she was not alone. They all were feeling it to varying degrees.

She’d seen very little of Lou Silvers since they’d staggered into camp, and she understood that the Donaldsons had been hit particularly hard. Mike was still feeling the effects of his digestive woes, and Patsy had received a house call in her tent from Sandra Ortiz, the team’s Base Camp manager and physician. The petite redhead had been treated with an injection of dexamethasone or ‘dex,’ to help alleviate the rather severe symptoms of altitude sickness she’d been experiencing. Allison could not help but wonder whether Mike and Patsy’s ailments had anything to do with the way they had insisted on chasing the younger Kevin MacBride and Phil Christy up the trail.

The gung-ho men had followed Jim Harris right into Base Camp, the first of the Peak Performance clients to arrive. MacBride had appeared to be completely recovered from his brush with Delhi-belly, and the two friends had spent the last few days exchanging stories with Harris and Paul Andersen and visiting other expedition camps in the vicinity. And as for Ricky Bouchard, well, Allison hadn’t seen much of her, really, other than at mealtimes. Then, she’d seen her eating and laughing with the Sherpas outside the cooking tent. She found them better company, apparently.

"Breakfast ready soon!" Lopsang cheerily handed her the tea, as he had every morning since her arrival. It provided some small measure of comfort; a piping hot beverage delivered to all the climbers each day before they had even left their sleeping bags.

"Thanks, Lopsang," she smiled gratefully. "See you in a few."

Anxious to check out her environment with a clear head, for once, she quickly gulped down the tea, zipped on a powder blue jacket, and jammed a matching knit cap on her head. Pushing open her tent, she stepped out into a snow-capped, glittering dawn. Base Camp rested a safe distance away from the Khumbu Icefall, and in the early morning light, the chunky, groaning blocks of ice shone with myriad shades of refracted blue. She could just make out the tiny shapes of Sherpas, clambering over the ice and readying the path for the climbers that would follow. Allison had overheard the grumblings between Jim Harris and Paul Andersen, at how not all the expeditions on the mountain had been willing to chip in with Sherpas and resources towards the effort to fix lines and break trail. Particularly, the financially strapped ‘international’ expedition.

Stuffing her hands into her jacket pockets, Allison’s mind turned back to her arrival at Base Camp, and the shocking scene that had greeted her.

The international team’s Sherpa had died.

Ricky had been correct in her assessment: the poor fellow, stricken with high altitude pulmonary edema, had expired without ever reaching the clinic at Pheriche. The internationals were an expedition on a shoestring, it seemed, lacking even a team physician. A dangerous way to take on the mountain. Worse, they’d suspiciously refused the aid of the docs from other groups, preferring to handle the medical emergency in their own way. And it had cost the Sherpa his life. A chill skipped through Allison as she returned her gaze to the mountain. Everest had claimed its first victim of the season. Would it be the last?

Drawing in a deep, high altitude breath, she began to pick her way towards the dining tent, taking note of the activity as Base Camp stirred. The Peak Performance encampment was not unlike others at the rocky foot of the Icefall. Climbers slept in their personal dome-shaped tents that had been set up in advance by the Sherpas; there seemed to be as many colors of tents as there were climbers. Adding to the rainbow effect, were the streams of prayer flags that the devout Sherpas had strung up on poles, fluttering away in the breeze.

Centrally located, were larger tents holding the communications center and dining facility. A separate cook tent was built of glacial stone, with a tarp pulled across the top to serve as a roof. A smaller tent held Sandy Ortiz’s Peak Performance medical facility. Smaller still, was a bathing tent. It was complete with a makeshift hot water shower, supplied by melt water heated by the Sherpas in the cook tent. Finally, adjacent to the shower stood the expedition’s much-used privy.

This particular morning appeared no different than the others Allison had experienced since her arrival, save for the fact that she felt better than she had in days. The Sherpa climbers she’d seen in the Icefall would have gotten off early; fixing ropes and ladders across the unstable glacier crevasses. She could see other expedition members from various teams emerging from their tents; some energized and breathing normally. Others were pasty white, taking in the new day through bloodshot eyes. When it came to acclimatization, the mountain played no favorites.

Approaching the cook tent, Allison’s mouth watered at the breakfast smells wafting through the thin air, taking satisfaction in the fact that her normal, healthy appetite seemed to have returned. For the past three days, she’d been able to tolerate little more than tea, oatmeal, and soup.

"Hi Lopsang!" Allison poked her head into the cook tent, offering a wave to the Sherpa and his two assistants. A series of kerosene-fired stoves were blazing away, with a variety of foods in various states of preparedness. "What’s for breakfast?"

"Bacon, ham, pancake, cheese omelet, juice, tea, coffee…." The Sherpa wiped a kerchief over his face. "You want something special, Miss Allison, I fix it right up. Oatmeal?"

"No Lopsang, an omelet and ham will be fine." She’d had enough of the bland oatmeal, that was for certain. Time for some real food. "And how about you add a couple of pancakes to that, too?"

"No problem. Coming right up!" he bowed his head and smiled.

The normal Base Camp menu was full of artery-clogging selections that might never have appeared on her plate at sea level. She tried to eat right… most of the time, anyway. But here on the mountain, it was important to load up on as many proteins and carbohydrates as possible, since extended exposure to the cold and altitude sapped both your strength and appetite. Allison had read that it was not unusual for some climbers to lose twenty or more pounds during summit bids.

"Thanks, Lopsang." She continued on into the adjacent dining tent, her stomach happily growling in anticipation. The Peak Performance management had done their best to re-create home-style comforts in what normally became the informal hub of expedition operations. Meetings would be held here in the dining tent, plans made, alliances formed and dissolved. Plastic tablecloths lined a long slab table, and pink wildflowers in tiny vases stood among the place settings. A smaller side table held tea, coffee, bottled water, and a selection of juices and snacks. Soft music emanated from a stereo system, and solar powered lights brightly lit the interior.

"’Morning, Lou!"

Sitting alone inside the tent, was a rather bedraggled looking Lou Silvers. The attorney’s salt-and pepper hair stuck out at odd angles from his head, and his face was drawn and pale. He appeared finished eating, and sat nursing a steaming hot cup of Sherpa tea.

"Allison!" He smiled faintly. "How ya feelin’?"

"Actually… pretty good," she replied, hardly believing it herself. "I think I’ve finally gotten my ‘thin air’ legs." She grabbed a clean mug and poured herself some tea from a simmering brass kettle on the side table. "You?"

"Getting’ there, but I’m still not 100%." He tiredly rubbed at his face. "Unlike Kevin and Phil. They took off for the Icefall this morning, with Jim and the climbing Sherpas."

"You’re joking." Allison took a seat across from Lou. "I thought we don’t go up there for another couple of days?"

"That’s what I thought." Lou shook his head. "But Jim wanted to check on how the route was shaping up, and those two begged to go along. Jim finally gave in, after they promised they wouldn’t venture too far up."

"Geez," Allison shivered, thinking of the creaking, groaning seracs, ready to break off and avalanche downward without a breath of a notice. "We’ll have to get through the Icefall soon enough. I can wait on that." She took a sip of her tea.

"Yeah, well, I just hope I’m ready for it." Lou paused, as a spasm of coughing rattled his chest. "You know, I thought I was in the best shape of my life before I got here. Better even, than when I did all that high-altitude climbing years ago. But this place has knocked me flat on my butt."

"You’ll do fine," Allison assured him, as one of Lopsang’s assistants bustled in with her platter of food. "Just give it some time."

"Here’s hoping." He lifted his mug to her in an impromptu toast. "At least I’m doing better than poor Patsy Donaldson. Mike was in here earlier, getting some juice for her. I understand if she doesn’t come around soon, there’s talk of taking her back down to Pheriche. Poor thing."

"That’s a shame," Allison agreed, knowing in her heart that Patsy’s condition might’ve been her fate as well, if she had been of mind and body to attempt to keep up with Kevin and Phil in their rush up the Namche Trail. Thank God for that bug, after all. Still, if one had to come down with a dose of altitude sickness, better to be hit with it at Base Camp rather than at the higher elevations. The headaches, nausea, and shortness of breath could be devastating to a climber going for the summit, and Allison had heard stories of mountaineers who had fallen victim to it without warning. All it took was pushing the body too high, too fast. Or else there were the more subtle catalysts, such as forgetting to stay hydrated, or the bright sunlight burning into a climber’s corneas for just those few moments when he or she had tucked their glacier sunglasses into a pocket.

Sometimes, all that was required for recovery was a quick shot of ‘dex,’ breathing in some pure O’s, and a rapid descent. Other times, the body never bounced back, and the climber had to forego their shot at Everest. Allison sincerely hoped that would not be the case for Patsy Donaldson.

"God, real food for a change!" Allison tucked into her plate with gusto. "Oh," she said between mouthfuls, "sorry, Lou!"

"Nah, enjoy it while you can," he chuckled. "Believe me, if the sight of it still bothered me, I’d be halfway to the latrine by now. Anyway, you’ll be dining on freeze-dried, reconstituted, dehydrated… whatever, soon enough."

"Shit."

Lou snickered. "You said it, not me."

"Well, as long as they don’t run out of chocolate bars up there," Allison grinned, "I’ll be fine."

"I found a Milky Way wrapper on the summit of Everest, once." A large shadow darkened the tent doorway.

"You’re joking!" Lou Silvers’ voice crackled as he fought back another bout of coughing.

"Am I?" the figure replied, removing its sunglasses and lifting an eyebrow.

Ricky Bouchard.

"I - I’ve heard that there’s a lot of trash on the mountain," Allison sputtered, taking in the form of the tall mountaineer. Ricky wore a black fleece jacket with red piping, black climbing pants, and boots. Her dark hair was pulled back in hair clip, and she wore a red baseball style cap with the Peak Performance Adventure Company logo emblazoned above the brim: a scripted ‘PPAC’ superimposed over the profile of Everest.

"You should’ve seen Base Camp a few years ago," Ricky said, remembering. "Garbage everywhere. People just… just destroying the site. But since then, there’ve been quite a few ‘clean-up’ campaigns." She stepped into the tent, her sharp blue eyes falling on her clients. "It’s a lot better now, but there is still much to be done. What you bring on the mountain, you take with you when you leave, eh?"

"Oh, yeah," Lou rapidly agreed. "We wouldn’t want to make the Mother Goddess angry."

"No, that would not be a good thing," the mountaineer said firmly, pushing up the brim of her cap.

Allison remained silent, mentally swearing to herself that no matter what, she would not let a single candy wrapper go astray. Particularly, if Ricky Bouchard were near.

An awkward silence descended the group as Ricky stood there, staring at them. The climber shifted her weight from one foot to the other, looked decidedly uncomfortable, as though she’d rather be anywhere else than in the Peak Performance dining tent.

"Where… where’s Paul?" Allison said at last, daubing at her mouth with a paper napkin. "Has anyone seen him today?"

"Yes," Ricky replied, relief flooding her face. "He is off talking to some of the other expedition leaders, trying to work out who’s going to fix the ropes up high."

"No one wants to go first, I’ll bet."

"You’re right," Ricky told the attorney. "Not with the deep snow we’ve heard is up there. A small group, going it alone, will burn out. Anyway, speaking of climbing, that’s actually why I’m here." She took a deep breath before continuing. "Jim said I should take a group out today on an acclimatization hike."

"Not to the Icefall!" Allison panicked. God, not yet! She wasn’t ready for it – not today! Let the Kevin and Phil crawl all over the Icefall if they wanted to. Hell, she hadn’t even had her crampons on once since she’d arrived.

"No-no-no!" Ricky held up her hand, the displeasure plain on her face. Obviously she disproved of the two men’s early outing to the Icefall with the Peak Performance team leader. "It’s too soon to head up there… at least I think so. I thought we’d head up and over to Pumori," she said, naming one of Everest’s sister mountains. "No crowds. Nice view. We’d be back in time for the group meeting before dinner."

"Meeting?" Allison looked from Ricky to Lou, confused.

"Yeah," the older man gestured towards a small sign she hadn’t noticed, hanging on the far tent post. "Jim wants everybody to get together with Doctor Ortiz to go over a few things, and roll out the schedule for the next few days."

"Sounds good." Allison had felt out of the loop since she’d arrived, and looked forward to getting together again with her fellow expedition members. And this hike sounded good, too. An opportunity to strap on her boots and get out there… doing what she’d come here to Everest to do. And the fact that one of the best mountaineers in the world was making that offer, well, what was there not to like?

"Of course, if you’re still feeling the altitude," Ricky quickly continued, her sun and wind burnished skin growing oddly flushed, "that’s okay. You can take another rest day and—"

"I’d love to go." Allison pushed away her plate. "Count me in. Lou?"

"Nah… it’s not happening." The exhausted attorney waved them off. "At least, not for today. I’ll take a rain check."

Ricky looked disappointed. "I saw Mike Donaldson on my way over here. He’s decided to stay put with Patsy." The mountaineer let her eyes rest on the young blonde. "So… I suppose it’s just you and me." She put her sunglasses back on. "Grab your pack and be ready to go in 15 minutes." She turned on her heel and left the tent, her footsteps crunching on the rocky ground.

"Shit!" Allison bolted to her feet, and grabbed an armful of bottled of water and packaged snacks from the side table.

"Have fun, you two!" Lou grinned as the younger woman bolted from the tent.

Allison Peabody and Veronique Bouchard.

The attorney poured himself another mug of hot tea, and shook his head. Those two women were so different, and yet… they were both good people. Perhaps they could learn from one another. He took a swallow of his tea. Ah, well. Stranger things had happened, here on the Mother Goddess.

**********

Allison swore she was hotter here in the shadow of Everest, than she’d been at any time earlier, hiking on the Namche trail. It was amazing, the strength of the brilliant sunlight at the higher elevations. As long as there was no snow or wind sweeping down from above, a near cloudless sky such as today, coupled with powerful, midday rays, made for beach-like weather.

Ricky Bouchard was moving strongly in front of her, and Allison was pleased beyond measure to note that she’d had little trouble keeping up with the mountaineer. God, what a wonderful day it was to be alive! She was breathing easily, even at these slightly higher elevations, noting how the sun-warmed air still smelled of snow, rock, and ice. The ground was loose stone, mostly, with a bit of ice cover mingled in. Like Ricky, Allison had left her crampons behind, unnecessary as they were for this hike. But she had brought along her climbing poles, just in case. And she had used them, as they’d pushed higher towards Pumori. Been happy to have them along, in fact, stabbing them into the earth periodically for leverage and balance.

But Ricky Bouchard… even here, on this relatively easy sortie, Allison was beginning to get a glimpse of just want kind of a climber the woman was. No poles for her, not on this trip, anyway. Her bare arms swung freely at her sides, and her strong legs powered her forward; steadily, surely. No missteps for her. The tall mountaineer had tied her jacket about her waist, and stripped down to a white T-shirt. Despite the heat and all her exertion, she barely seemed to have broken a sweat.

Hmnn.

Well. At least she’d acquitted herself respectably, Allison considered. Ricky Bouchard would have nothing to complain about, as far as she was concerned. From the moment they’d started out from Base Camp, they’d both swung into a comfortable rhythm, talking little, simply enjoying the day and the scenery. Plenty of time to think, or else just let your mind drift aimlessly, openly, freed from the constraints of order, of convention.

How far away Wall Street, and Johnson-Kitteridge-Johnson seemed! And how… small, and meaningless, too. That life. Her life, the one she’d made for herself.

The next deal.

The next date.

"Allison, dearest, you make me the laughing stock of our friends when you take off like this! Whatever will people think?"

The next dinner with her parents, where the three of them would all behave quite civilly, making polite conversation about the news, the weather, the tenderness of the meat. As though they were strangers, meeting for the very first time.

Strangers.

Allison swallowed hard, and stopped, telling herself it was because she’d finally decided to take off her jacket. She lifted her face to the sun, welcoming the heat of it, rationalizing that it was the sharp brightness of it, of course, that had caused the tear to leak from her eye. It was all so much simpler here, where all that mattered was the placement of your next step, or enjoying a drink of cool water while sitting on glacial rocks, aged older than time.

"You okay?"

Ricky had stopped on the path above her and had half-turned, facing her.

"Fine," Allison quickly replied. "Just a little warm."

The mountaineer glanced back towards Pumori, and then returned her gaze to Allison. "There’s a good spot up ahead where we can break and have lunch. How does that sound?"

Allison tied off her jacket at her waist, re-shouldered her pack, and grabbed her poles. The simple life. While she was here, by God, she would enjoy it. She smiled brightly at the mountaineer, chasing away the shadows of her own making.

"Lead on."

**********

It was one hell of a view, Ricky Bouchard had to admit to herself. Sitting here, perched at the foot of Pumori, with Everest, Nuptse, and the Khumbu Icefall shimmering in the afternoon sun like some heavenly, snow-drifted mirage. It was the uncluttered beauty of it all, the pureness of it, that drew her back time and time again. That drove her to take calculated risks, to push herself beyond what even she suspected she was capable of, in order to seize a moment such as this for herself. It fueled her blood and nourished her spirit, and was the only religion she cared to know. It made all the other… bullshit, worth it.

Take today, for instance. Jim Harris was her boss, and so she’d had little to say about it when he’d told her to take a group out on an acclimatization hike. Truth be known, she would have preferred to go into the Icefall to help fix the route, along with Jangbu Nuru, the expedition’s climbing sirdar, and the rest of the climbing Sherpas. Driving in ice screws, securing lines, and laying down ladders across gaping crevasses would’ve not only provided her with welcome physical activity, it also would’ve made her feel useful, that she was a more valuable member of the team.

After all, she’d been used to doing much of the labor on her previous expeditions. But here, on this ‘deluxe’ guided tour, it was not meant to be. Instead, Jim relegated her once again to the role of chief Peak Performance baby-sitter. Still, it could have been worse. Jim could’ve opted to send her around to the other camps, trying to drum up support for a collective effort to break trail and fix ropes up high. Paul Andersen had been given that responsibility while Jim himself had headed up to the Icefall, and it was just as well. She’d never been much good a politicking and negotiation, preferring to let her deeds to the talking. Screw ‘em if they didn’t want to help out in the higher elevations; she’d do it herself. She had before.

And the hike hadn’t turned out too badly, after all. The Donaldsons had been too under the weather to go, and Lou Silvers still seemed to be suffering from the effects of altitude. Ricky’s gut told her that unlike Patsy Donaldson, however, the older attorney would find a way to turn it all around and get back onto his feet soon. She liked the man, and hoped that he’d get his chance at the top. As for Kevin MacBride and Phil Christy, Ricky certainly hadn’t approved of Jim Harris taking the younger men to the Icefall. The less time spent there, the better, particularly if you were unfamiliar with the way the beautiful, surrealistic landscape could suddenly turn deadly. On the Icefall, more so than anywhere else on the hill, a lack of experience or, worse – just plain bad luck – could get you killed. In letting the two men join him, the expedition leader was establishing a bad precedence. And as much as the Peak Performance expedition members were called a ‘team,’ it was becoming painfully apparent to Ricky that they were far from it.

"Thanks for this."

Ricky returned her attention to her companion, Allison Peabody. The young stockbroker waved a hand at the view she’d been admiring, and at the tiny, colorful tents dotting the slope far below: the Everest Base Camp.

"And thanks for this, too!" Allison held up the last bit of a ham and cheese sandwich, one of several that Ricky had produced from her backpack.

"No problem," the mountaineer replied. "Once Lopsang found out we were going off on a hike, it was all I could do to keep him from coming with us and preparing something al fresco. So I made him settle for giving us a pack lunch."

"Well, it sure hit the spot," Allison said, swallowing her last bite and chasing it down with a swig of bottled water.

"And… an acclimatization hike like this is always a good idea," Ricky continued, "Especially if you’ve been inactive for a few days. Up here, it’s a struggle to hold onto whatever sort of muscle tone you’ve got."

"Well, I’m feeling those muscles today," Allison chuckled, reaching to massage her calves, "but in a good way… I mean."

"Mnnn."

Ricky leaned back against a large rock. The area in the hillside where they sat formed a natural concave shelter from the winds, while at the same time it absorbed the radiant heat from the sun. The two women were both down to T-shirts now, and had removed their climbing boots. Allison also had doffed her knit cap, and had applied a layer of sunscreen to her arms and face. Sitting here in the Shadow of Mount Everest, with the distinctive scent of cocoa butter in the air, Ricky found herself very easily imagining that this Allison Peabody would no doubt be very much at home on some high-class tropical island resort, or an exotic cruise. That sort of vacation, with all the expensive trappings and golden spoon service, seemed more her style, or so she thought.

But here on Everest… taking a month or two out of your life, giving up room service and central heat just so you could eat freeze-dried casseroles and feel so dirty that you were ready to crawl out of your own skin, not to mention literally risking life and limb… it just didn’t add up. Could it be Allison was completely clueless about the whole thing, as she had first suspected?

Ricky was beginning to think not.

Allison had done well today on an uphill hike over uneven ground that would’ve been a cake-walk at sea level. But at 18,000 feet, it was a whole new ball game, and the smaller woman had kept with her, stride for stride.

Although the stockbroker’s first few days at altitude had been rough, that was fairly common. Today, she seemed to have definitely turned the corner. She was in shape, that was for certain; the mountaineer could not help but notice that the younger woman, though slightly built, was compact and muscular. Maybe there was something to be said for those Stairmasters, after all.

So, Allison Peabody was in good enough physical condition to attempt the climb. And though her technical skills weren’t at a level Ricky would have liked to have seen, at least she had more experience than, say, a Patsy Donaldson. The only real technical area of the Everest push anyway, would be at the Hillary Step. The Step was named after New Zealander Edmund Hillary, who, along with Sherpa Tenzing Norgay in 1953, were the first men to successfully summit Everest. It was a near-vertical pitch of 50 foot high rock and snow, and getting over the impasse could be easily done by technical climbers.

As long as said climbers weren’t hypoxic, and their hands and feet were still functioning normally. Not a given, at nearly 29,000 feet. Could Allison handle it? If she couldn’t, she had no place on the mountain.

"Wow, look at that plume!" Allison pointed towards the familiar white cloud lengthening from the summit of Everest. "It must be getting windier up there, blowing off all that snow."

Ricky followed Allison’s gaze towards the plume. Climbers often used its length and intensity as an informal means of forecasting the weather on the summit. "It’s not snow, actually," Ricky said, feeling Allison’s eyes turn towards her.

"But it’s white and sparkly, and it’s blowing…."

"A lot of people make that mistake." Ricky tucked a water bottle back into her pack. "Just because of the reasons you’ve said. But really," she faced Allison, "it’s because of the heat."

"The heat?" Allison shook her head. "I don’t understand."

"On a clear day like today, when the sun hits the Kangshung Face of Everest, it heats up the whole area, evaporating the moisture from the snow. Think of it like steam rising after a summer rain storm," Ricky explained, holding out her hands to illustrate her point. "The steam rises on the eastern side, until it hits the summit and gets slammed by the colder, western winds blowing over the top."

"So when the hot and cold air masses collide—"

"The moisture condenses again, creating the plume."

"And the longer the plume, the stronger the winds."

"Right," Ricky confirmed. "I’ve seen beautiful, windless days like today, where the weather at Base Camp is perfect. But with one look at the plume, you can tell it’s bad news, up high."

"I’ll keep that in mind," Allison said, regarding the mountain thoughtfully. She pulled her knees up to her chest, and rested her chin on them, falling silent for a time. And then, quietly, "Do you think I can make it?"

The mountaineer knew right away what the younger woman meant. God, had she been reading her mind earlier, or what?! Now, here she was, asking her a question that Ricky had no ready answer for.

"That depends on you," Ricky began slowly, gathering her thoughts. "And on a lot of other factors, some that you simply can’t control. The weather, your health, other people… crowds, even, trying to summit on the same day as you, just because that’s the only weather window there is." She sighed. "It’s more crowded this year than I’ve ever seen it before. Too damn many people who don’t know what they’re doing."

Realizing how that must have sounded to her companion, Ricky turned to her, fumbling. "Not… not that you—"

"No… you’re right," Allison said, reddening. "I’m not as good as you… or Jim, or Lou." She took her sunglasses off and leveled her eyes at Ricky. "But I’m here. And I’m gonna do what it takes to get to the top. I have to make it. I have to," she said more softly. "Or else… what’s the point?"

The two women were sitting too close for Ricky not to notice the tears forming in the younger woman’s green eyes, seeing the pain there. Okay. So she had the fire in her belly. Ricky above all could understand that. But was it for the right reason?

"You – you’d better get those glasses back on," Ricky said lamely, not knowing how else to respond. "It’s awfully bright out."

"You think I don’t belong here, right?" Allison’s features stiffened as she replaced her sunglasses. "Don’t bother denying it. You haven’t tried very hard to hide it."

Shit. Now it was Ricky’s turn to feel uncomfortable. She’s the client. She’s the client. A score of responses sprang to mind, any one of which might have served to mollify the woman somewhat; soothe her ego, alleviate her concerns. But it was the truth that finally fought its way to the surface and found its way to her tongue.

"No, you don’t."

Allison thrust her jaw out in the face of the stinging comment, defiant, but Ricky could see how her lower lip trembled slightly.

"You don’t belong here," the mountaineer said quickly, passionately, "but I don’t either. None of us do, Allison. Not really. Our bodies weren’t built to withstand this sort of punishment, this… this trial by fire and ice. We put ourselves on this mountain… constantly battling to get enough to eat and drink; to stay warm, to have just one night where we sleep through and not wake up from a nightmare that we’re suffocating. And so we sit. And wait for that perfect moment when the skies clear, when we’re fully acclimatized, and ready to go. But by that time, our bodies have already begun to waste away." She laughed bitterly. "So what? We don’t care. Because getting to the top is the only thing we can think about. And so we don’t give a damn about the nasty weather. Or the death of a teammate. Or the fluid in our lungs that’s choking us. We push past the altitude sickness and climb, passing by the bodies of climbers who’ve died on past expeditions. Maybe you knew them, maybe you didn’t. Maybe they could be you, if your numb hands haven’t been able to fasten your harness properly, or if your oxygen starved brain thinks you’ve already clipped onto the rope when you haven’t."

Ricky paused, worried that perhaps she’d gone too far. But there was no turning back now. Allison Peabody had asked her a question. She deserved an answer.

"And then," she said quietly, "when your body has reached its limit, when you’re literally falling apart, you have to call upon yourself to execute one of the most physically demanding things you’ve ever done – the final push to the summit. And you have to ask yourself: is it worth it? Do I have what it takes? Or not?"

"I’m not afraid."

"Well, you should be!" Ricky declared. "You should be scared shitless!"

"I have what it takes," Allison said fiercely, swallowing hard. "Maybe… maybe I didn’t come here for the right reasons, not at first. I was wrong. I can see that now. For me… it’s about doing something for myself. Proving that I can for me – no one else. Everything at home, my life there, it pales in comparison to this! This is what has value… has worth. If you knew… knew what kind of crap—"

"We all have our baggage," Ricky interrupted her, knowing she herself carried more than her share. God knew, that with every step she took on this mountain, every step, Jean-Pierre was there, right alongside her. "The question is, how do we deal with it? Do we let it weigh us down, killing us, or instead, do we open it up and take a look at what’s inside, and find some way to use it to our advantage?" Hmmn, Ricky considered, that sounded pretty good. I’ll have to try it sometime, myself.

Allison was silent, absorbing the mountaineer’s words. She sat there, gazing up at Pumori for a time, and then gathered herself. "Geez, listen to me!" Allison rubbed a fist to her nose, sniffling. "I – why am I telling you all this?"

I have no idea. "Everest does that," Ricky replied, not unkindly. "It brings out the best in us… and the worst. I think… understanding why you’re here… getting in touch with that, is a good thing."

"Well," Allison released a sharp burst of air, "I know there are no guarantees in this life. But I want to get to the top, and I’m going to give it everything I’ve got." She smiled faintly. "Heck, it’ll probably be the most pure, honest thing I’ve ever done in my life. The first thing that’s not a lie."

In a visceral, immediate response, the mountaineer was surprised to find her hand reaching out, giving Allison Peabody’s shoulder an awkward pat. The younger woman’s words had struck a familiar, resonant chord in Ricky’s soul.

"I’ll tell you what: you do your best to climb this mountain, Allison, and I’ll do my best to make sure you get to the top." Her tanned face creased into a smile. "And down. Deal?"

Allison grinned and stuck out her hand. "Deal."

**********

"Okay… okay! The sooner we get started, the sooner we’ll be finished, and Lopsang and his people can get dinner in here!" His hulking form filling the front of the tent, Jim Harris played high-altitude traffic cop, ushering everyone to benches and plastic chairs. The dining tent was filled to bursting with all the Peak Performance guides and clients, as well as several Sherpas, including Jangbu Nuru, the head climbing Sherpa.

Ricky slipped into the tent and made her way to stand by the back wall, trying to look as inconspicuous as possible. This was Jim’s show; let him run it. She was just a hired hand, and a junior one, at that. She caught sight of Allison Peabody, seated at the main table between Lou Silvers and a rather pale looking Patsy Donaldson. Allison waved a ‘hello,’ and Ricky nodded in return. Allison’s face was flushed and healthy looking, as was those of all the climbers who’d been spending time out-of-doors. Jim Harris, wearing bright red Patagonia bibs and a thick black turtleneck, looked as though he were physically able to climb Everest single-handed. Strong, dynamic, good-looking, Ricky considered the fact that he was probably better suited than any of them to the job of team leader, a position that required being equal parts businessman, climber, and customer service guru. At best, Ricky knew that she herself was only one out of the three.

Kevin MacBride and Phil Christy shouldered their way into the tent, their eyes bright and excited; both men had been clearly energized by their morning in the Icefall with Jim and the Sherpas.

Paul Andersen was last to arrive, and found a position next to Jim. The tall, lean guide looked a bit weary from his day of negotiating, but otherwise in good health. Mike Donaldson and Lou Silvers, however, appeared as though they had both just rolled out of their sleeping bags, and Ricky suspected that perhaps that was not far from the truth. And as for Patsy Donaldson… clearly the woman was still feeling the effects of the altitude, although she was bravely trying to tough it out for the meeting. The food cooking next-door couldn’t have smelled too appealing to her in her condition, and she’d jammed a multi-colored knit cap down onto her head, covering her ears and compressing the whorling curls of her red hair. The woman looked barely able to make her way back to her tent under her own power, let alone climb the world’s highest mountain.

"All right, everybody," Jim waved the expedition members down into their seats, "what I’d like to do tonight is go over the schedule for the next couple of days, and let you know what we’re going to be doing. This is crunch time, kids, so everyone’s got to be up to speed and with the program. Your safety, and that of your fellow team members, could depend upon it." Jim gestured towards a petite, dark skinned, 30-ish woman sitting on the side table. "Speaking of safety, for those of you who haven’t yet met her, this is Doctor Sandra Ortiz, our expedition physician and Base Camp Manager. Sandy!"

Led by Kevin and Phil, the tent erupted in applause and cheers. "Thanks, the doctor said, blushing. She pushed herself off the table and stood, taking a moment to adjust the small-framed wire glasses on her face. "Jim and I have known each other for years," she said, running a hand through her short, brunette hair, "and I look forward to getting to know all of you over the next few weeks."

"I hope you mean personally, and not professionally," Kevin MacBride said, and everyone laughed.

"Well, if this is anything like the other expeditions Jim has talked me into," the physician flashed a gleaming smile, "it’ll probably be a mixture of both. Which brings me to my little two-minute public service announcement here tonight." Pausing, she cast a sidelong glance at Jim Harris, who bade her continue. "It’s about staying safe, and healthy, while you’re here on the mountain. As healthy as you all may think you are down in the thick air, it’s a different story up here. The medical tent is open for business 24/7," she said firmly, "and you’ll be seeing me for things like blisters, headaches, muscle aches, or a cough. And that’s not all." She started counting off on her fingers, "You’ll have confusion, trouble sleeping, lack of coordination, nausea, dehydration, diarrhea, dizziness—"

"Please!" Patsy Donaldson held up a hand and smiled weakly. "And I was just feeling better, too!"

The majority of the crowd laughed nervously, but Ricky Bouchard did not. Privately, she worried that if the ill woman pushed herself up the mountain in her condition, there would be nothing but trouble ahead. And it didn’t help matters any that she’d heard Mike Donaldson state more than once that he was determined that he and Patsy would be the first American couple to successfully summit Everest.

"Sorry," The doctor’s voice was sympathetic. "I know some of you’ve already had first hand experience with what I’m talking about. The point is, she regarded them seriously, "I don’t want any of you playing doctor on your own. You don’t feel good – you come to me. You think somebody else doesn’t look good – you send them to me. Because they may be the last to know they’re in trouble." She folded her arms. "Up here, ignoring something doesn’t make it go away. It makes it get worse. I guarantee it."

Jim Harris began to move towards Dr. Ortiz, carrying a small duffel bag. "The big things we all have to worry about, are hypoxia - altitude sickness. Or worse, high altitude pulmonary edema or cerebral edema." He placed the duffel bag on the table next to the physician.

"Or, HACE and HAPE, as they’re better known," Sandy added. "We’ve already had one fatal case on the mountain this season."

Ricky shifted uncomfortably in her place at the back of the tent. Yes, it had been a fatal case. One that should never have happened.

"That’s why we want you all to have these." Jim opened the duffel, and the doctor withdrew several small containers that looked like toothbrush travel holders. "We’ll go over the usage of these, but for now, know that each one of you will be given these pre-loaded syringes of dexamethasone. It’s a steroid used to treat severe cases of hypoxia, HACE, and even HAPE. Carry them inside your climbing suits next to your skin to keep them warm. Use it if you have to, on yourself or someone else. But hopefully," she replaced the syringes in the bag, "you’ll never need it."

"We’ll also be issuing you with these." Jim Harris took out a small radio kit, with an earpiece and lapel mic. "Everybody who goes up the hill, whether guide, client, or Sherpa, will be issued one of these." His voice grew somber. "I think lack of communication… knowing where people are on the mountain, has caused many of the tragic problems that have occurred here in the past. With this," he held up the unit for all to see, "we can stay in constant contact with Base Camp, and with each other."

Ricky had to admit it, she was impressed. She’d worked only infrequently with radio comm before, mostly because it was an added cost that the expeditions she’d been on before simply couldn’t afford. Only the team leader might have been issued one or, if it was just herself and Jean-Pierre, it hadn’t been necessary.

"The next thing," Jim continued, "is oxygen. Now… I know some of you haven’t used supplemental 02 before, or at least aren’t familiar with it. "From Camp III on up, I want everybody breathing gas." The big man reached into the duffel, and took out a large, orange, steel and kevlar canister, along with a regulator, rubber hose, and mask. "It’ll help you keep your strength, and keep your head, up there in the thin air." He held up the dark oxygen mask, a big, bulky contraption not unlike those worn by fighter pilots. "We’ll show you over the next few days how to use them."

"That’s right," the doctor said, picking up the regulator. "Figuring out how to change bottles of O2, and adjusting and regulating the flow of the gas, is a lot easier at here Base Camp than it is at the South Summit. You’ve got to know what you’re doing. If you’re up high and start to go hypoxic… well, I’ve heard of some climbers who got into trouble because they’d inadvertently turned the flow off, instead of on."

"Whoa," Mike Donaldson said, the solar-powered lights in the tent shining on his balding head, a bad thing to have happen, in thin air."

"That’s actually a misnomer," the physician said, putting the regulator down. "‘Thin air,’ I mean. There’s a normal amount of oxygen in the air at the summit. The problem is, you can’t get it into your lungs due to the reduction in atmospheric pressure. For example," she explained, "a barometer reading at sea level would be 2/3 less at the top of Everest. For those of you who’ve been there, it feels as though only part of your lungs are working. You’ve got to work extra hard to catch your breath, and you end up nearly hyperventilating."

"In other words, up top," Jim said, "you’ve got to breathe three times as fast to get the same amount of oxygen you’d get at sea level. Unless," he lifted the orange bottle, "you’re on this."

Jim Harris looked Ricky’s way. "For example, our own Ricky Bouchard, here, didn’t use gas on her previous Everest summits, right, Ricky?"

"Umn… yes, that is true," the mountaineer replied, feeling slightly uncomfortable at being pointed out.

"But she will this time, as your guide. Staying strong, breathing gas, is the key."

Ricky nodded her head ‘yes,’ a tense smile finding its way to her lips. She was strong enough to get to the top of the highest peaks in the world without using the cumbersome oxygen, thank you very much. She hated the damn things, the extra weight they added, they way they were always breaking down. And the feel of it, on her face, choking her, smothering her, cutting off her field of vision. In all the climbing nightmares that plagued her while she slept, she was always wearing one.

"It looks awfully cumbersome," Allison Peabody said, voicing Ricky’s thoughts. "What if we run into a problem up high?" From where Ricky stood, she could see the frown on the younger woman’s face.

"No problem," Jim assured her. "A guide will always be nearby, or you could radio for help. Don’t worry, Allie, we’ll make sure you can work these things in your sleep, before we send you off. Which brings me to the last item I’m sure you’ve been waiting for." He let his eyes sweep the room. "The way through the Icefall is nearly fixed. Two days from now, we’ll head up through the Khumbu, touch Camp I, and come back. We’ll be under way!"

"Yes!" Kevin MacBride gave his buddy’s back a slap. "Let me at it!"

"We’ll leave early, about 5AM, to get a jump start on the other teams. That way, too, we’ll be sure to be up and back before the heat of the day hits the ice… or else we could run into some problems."

"Yeah… like… look out below – boom!" MacBride laughed at his own joke.

"We’ll talk about how to get through the Icefall safely, Kevin," Jim smiled and shook his head. "And, we’ll practice here at camp, walking back and forth on top of a horizontal ladder, while wearing full gear and crampons."

"I don’t want to be seeing you guys for twisted knees, or worse," Sandy said, flexing her knees slightly. "It’s important that you try to find the sweet spot, taking it one step at a time, and saddle it where your spikes are on either side of the rung. It’s about balance and coordination."

"And not look down!" Jangbu Nuru, the climbing sirdar, spoke up at last. His dark eyes sparkled, and his weathered, tanned face was illuminated by a bright smile. "You follow Jangbu, you be A-okay!" He gave a thumbs up, and they all laughed, Ricky included. She knew Jangbu well. They’d worked together on her previous south-side foray, and it was on that expedition that he’d earned her great respect. He was one of the best sirdars in all of Nepal and Tibet, and she trusted him with her life.

"Well," Jim chuckled, scratching the growing beard on his face. "On that note, who’s hungry?!"

**********

"Okay," Allison Peabody muttered softly to herself, "one more time… let’s make sure. Backpack," she touched the dark blue frame, "ice ax, harness, carabiners, jumars, helmet, crampons…." She’d laid out her gear at least four or five times over the past several days, making sure everything was in order; dry, functional, and ready to take on the mountain. This absolutely would be the last time she’d have a chance to do it, for tomorrow, early, they would be off for the Icefall.

Time to shut up and put up, Allison. She crawled to the edge of her tent and edged out of it, lifting her eyes towards the Khumbu. It was lit nearly bright as day by the full moon overhead, all the peaks surrounding them were, shimmering and glistening in the rarefied air. Her pulse quickened and her stomach fluttered as she took it in, absorbed it, memorized its details. Was she ready? God, she hoped so. She’d had no problem negotiating the practice ladders; she’d always been nimble and blessed with good balance. Ricky had been pleased with her performance on them, she could tell. And as for the oxygen rigs, at this point she was sure she would be able to build one from scratch, if need be.

Allison had been a patient student during the little ‘seminars’ Sandy, Jim, and the guides had put on. But it was apparent that others, Kevin and Phil, in particular, thought they were a waste of time for individuals of their climbing experience. Jim Harris had looked the other way when the two men walked out of the radio ‘lesson,’ "Ah, I’ll catch up with them later on this," he’d said. "And anyway, I think they’re pretty familiar with this stuff."

And Mike Donaldson had seemed to have a hard time understanding why he and Patsy would have to be responsible for carrying their own second 15 pound bottles of oxygen with them on the final summit push, and not the Sherpas. "You definitely need two bottles to get up and down," Sandy had explained. "Maybe even more, if you run into trouble. The Sherpas will be carrying the extras, just in case."

"Well, it just doesn’t seem right," Mike had stubbornly declared, clearly put out. Patsy’s green eyes had merely widened, and her face blanched.

But Allison had listened, and nodded, and drilled, and soaked up every word of it, driven by the words of Ricky Bouchard that kept echoing in her mind: "You don’t belong here."

Okay.

Since that was a given, it was up to her to do everything possible to mitigate the risk, to tip the scales in her balance, to seal the deal. And with Ricky’s help… she just might make it.

Restless, Allison crawled the rest of the way out of her tent, and propped herself down on a flattened rock. In the distance, she could hear the boisterous laughter and music coming from the dining tent. It was the rest of the team and the Sherpas, celebrating the night before heading up the mountain. Normally, the old Allison Peabody would’ve been right there along with them. But now she had a new focus, a new purpose.

She hadn’t had an opportunity to talk with Ricky Bouchard since they’d returned from their hike, not really. They’d both been so busy, and Allison had to admit that she was surprised at the calm patience the mountaineer had shown while instructing them on the ladders and with the other equipment. For some reason, she’d thought the tall woman might have been inclined to lose her temper… but no. She’d done her job. In fact, Allison had preferred to take Ricky’s instruction over Jim’s or Paul’s. Listening to the mountaineer’s low, alto tones, explaining to Patsy Donaldson for the third time how to find the Base Camp frequency on the radio, gave her confidence, somehow. A sense certainty; in herself, most of all.

Allison sighed, bundling her jacket tightly against the chilled night air. How gorgeous Everest looked in the night sky! How fortunate she was, to be in a place like this! And how lucky she was, too, to have someone like Ricky Bouchard on their team, she could see that, now. Lou knew it too, but she wondered if the others did. Or even cared. There was something about Ricky… a sort of magic. She was beautiful, yes, one couldn’t help but notice that. It was something else, something Allison just couldn’t put her finger on. And so she planed to stay as close to the mountaineer as possible, until she had it all figured out.

Allison almost fell off her rock. "Oh – hi! I – I didn’t know—"

"Sorry. Did I startle you?" Blue eyes flashed in the moonlight.

"No… I uh, well, yeah you did, but—"

"See you tomorrow, then." The mountaineer turned to walk away.

"No – wait!" Allison’s voice croaked. "I was just going over my gear. Have – have a seat."

Wordlessly, Ricky settled down on an adjacent rock. With the onset of darkness the winds had stilled, and though the temperature was dropping and their breath formed puffs of white mist in the air, it was still relatively comfortable.

"I saw you leave the dining tent early," Ricky began. "I wondered if you were feeling okay." She stole a sidelong glance at Allison.

"Oh, I’m fine. I just… just wanted to get out of there and check on things."

"Things?" Ricky arched an eyebrow. "If you mean your gear, I’ve seen you pack and repack it three or four times, at least."

"I dunno," Allison blushed in the dark. "It’s – it’s almost like it’s Christmas Eve, and I can’t wait until morning comes so I can open up my presents. Only this time," she lifted her eyes to the mountaineer, "I’m getting something I really want." She paused for a moment. "How about you – why did you leave, really?" There was no way the tall woman would’ve left just to check up on her, right?

Ricky was quiet for a moment, and then released a sharp burst of air. "I guess getting drunk on chang isn’t my idea of a good time," she replied. "Altitude and alcohol – they do not mix." A pause. "I’ll never forget the first time Jean-Pierre made me try it." She shook her head. "He told me it was a Himalayan version of soda pop. And I drank it like it was, too. The next day…" she chuckled, "I would’ve killed him, if only I’d been able to get out of bed!" Ricky’s laughter died away. "Now… I’d drink all the chang he wanted me to… if only…."

"You – you miss, him, don’t you?" Allison could not help but ask the question, knowing she was treading onto dangerous, personal ground.

"Yes," Ricky said slowly, "I do. He should be alive. Married by now, bouncing babies on his knee, teaching them to climb." She fell silent.

Allison could see the mountaineer struggling with her emotions, fighting to conceal inside the hurt and sense of loss she dared not show. Best to change the subject. "Thanks for talking to me the other day, out there on the hike."

Ricky shrugged. "It was nothing."

"Yeah, well, I appreciated it." Damn! Why was holding a conversation with this woman so difficult? "Just look at that," she nodded towards Everest. "Tomorrow we’ll be on it. All 29,028 feet of it."

"Actually," Allison could see Ricky’s white teeth flash in a grin, "It’s 29,035 feet now. A GPS satellite re-calibrated its height last year."

"Great," the young blonde groaned. "That means I’ve got farther to climb."

"Then about time we get started, eh?" And with that, Ricky Bouchard stood. "See you tomorrow, Allison." With a small wave, she headed towards her tent.

Watching her depart, Allison could see her heading towards the small yellow tent she’d set up on the periphery of the encampment. Still a part of the group, and yet… distant. She marveled at how little sound the tall woman made as she traveled over the rocky ground.

"Until tomorrow," she said softly, watching the dark figure disappear. Sighing, she glanced at her watch, and grunted. The hell with tomorrow. It’s already today. Her eyes tracked to Mount Everest. Allison Peabody, this is your wake-up call.

To be continued - Part 5