Dragons Awakening

Noise canceling headphones protected her ears, but the thumping of the rotors overhead reverberated through Zi’s chest. In the seat beside her, Akolo’s pale green eyes resembled giant buttons in his bronze face. Still. She hoped he could handle the task ahead.

Since landing in Kathmandu the previous night, life had become a whirlwind.Upon arriving at the hotel, people paraded through her suite. Around midnight, she locked them out and collapsed into bed. Every meeting played an essential role in the success of their Everest Trek. Not that it would be much of a trek in the truest sense. Hiring this helicopter was only one way she cheated in experiencing the world’s tallest mountain. True mountaineers and adventurers would gasp if they knew she also had an oxygenating serum. The whole acclimatization thing didn’t fit into the schedule when a dragon plotted doomsday.

Looking at the two of them, anyone would assume they were a pair of gawking day travelers, heading in for a quick peek at Everest Base Camp. Landing at 17,590 feet above sea level might be fine for a few minutes. Spending extended time there played havoc with a person’s health when they hadn’t built up tolerance for the thinner air. The vials of serum in her day-pack would take care of that little problem. The doctor who supplied it also gave her a packet of dissolvable pills that kept dehydration at bay, as long as the intake of water remained consistent. Otherwise, they would make you puke out your stomach, hardly a preventative measure against dehydration.

The clothier had delivered the stylish outfit she wore, as well as the items Akolo had picked out during the flight. Of course, there was an extra charge for the rush service. Good thing her father had more money than a person could spend in a lifetime. His funds weren’t the only resource she tapped into on this trip. In the past, her father had climbed the mountain - twice- in order to win a client. The first expedition had been at her behest since she envisioned him there with one of the wealthiest distributors from the North American Conglomerate. As a favor to Mr. Oohara, a trekker established at the base camp agreed to set Zi and Akolo up in a private tent. Mr. Oohara would never know a thing about it.

Zi pushed thoughts of her father away and stared out at the magnificence surrounding her. Everest could be seen as one of many tooth-shaped peaks from the academy. She finally appreciated its grandeur now that it felt close enough to touch. Areas of bare boulders seemed out of place in the valley between the giant and a near neighbor. At such a high elevation, shouldn’t everything be covered in snow or ice? Even in the midst of prime climbing season, temperatures never climbed above freezing.

“We’ll circle and land there,” the pilot’s voice blasted into her ear. Were the headphones noise canceling or amplifying? His left arm pointed out a lake of ice and a level pad with a blue H painted on it.

Would Ezerhaydn already be in the area? He had left as soon as the trip was approved by Dr. Duboff two days ago. Only two days? The changes of scenery spun kaleidoscope-like inside her head. Ezer assured her he could fly much faster without a passenger, but it was still more than 6,600 kilometers. He better contact them today, since he was the one worried about time constraints.

Crosswinds rocked the helicopter like a rowboat in a hurricane. Zi’s knuckles whitened against the metal bars along the side of her seat. Akolo’s eyes widened, something she believed impossible. Soon, his face would nothing but eyes. The mental picture made her smile. They descended between the towering peaks, and the helicopter stabilized. Zi exhaled, mortified to realize she had been holding her breath. What if her eyes were as huge as Akolo’s?

The runners bumped against the landing pad twice before settling. Zi unclipped the two buckles holding her against the seat as the door next to her slid open. She handed the pilot her headset. His mouth moved but without the digital assistance, his voice drowned beneath the thunderous chopping of the rotors. She gave him a thumbs up as she slid out of the bulbous machine. Bending at the waist, she ran in the direction he pointed. Wind from the twirling blades pressed against her, hindering her progress.

A service building of sorts nestled against the side of one of the smaller peaks. A dark-skinned man stood in front of it. The bright yellow armband identified him as a guide, probably the one who would see them up to the camp. When Zi drew close enough to see his features, she wished she could unsee them. The man’s broad features and slanted eyes identified him as a Sherpa. His lowered eyebrows, clenched jaw and crossed arms identified him as angry.

The helicopter’s blades whirled faster and the machine jerked while rising into the air. Akolo stumbled beside Zi, gasping, still bent over. She patted his back, sipping air into her constricting chest. It felt like a vacuum sucked the oxygen from her lungs. The urge to gasp and gulp pressed against her ribs. Slow and steady would keep her lungs inflated with precious air.

“Not a smart thing you do,” the Sherpa said. “Sign waiver so we not responsible when you fall down dead.”

Zi stared at the man, wanting to work up matching ire. Her arms and legs might have been solid steel, and her mind drew a blank. She nodded. She had signed the required paperwork in Kathmandu. Nice that her guide expected her to die - not if you fall down dead, but when. Perfect.

Several minutes later, Akolo straightened. His face had paled and sweat beaded on his forehead, crystalizing into ice and pelting the dark green sleeves of his parka.

“Take slow, small breaths,” Zi said, gasping on the last word. Obviously, talking and breathing couldn’t coexist when you neared the top of the world. They were barely above the halfway mark. How did people survive without oxygen tanks at the summit?

Once their breathing couldn’t be heard echoing off the surrounding mountains, the Sherpa turned and led them through a crevasse. It morphed into a trail, steep but not insurmountable. Zi paused every few steps to breathe. Her head spun and her lungs ached. Pretending she stopped to take in the scenery wasn’t plausible since walls of ice surrounded her.

On her third stop, she turned back and gasped at the splendor. Jagged peaks rose at the edges of her horizon. Shrouded in robes of shadow, they loomed like guardians. Akolo, still several feet behind, didn’t look up at her indrawn breath. He panted loudly enough to conceal the tread of his boots against the trail. Awe at the magnificence bowed beneath concern.

“Okay?” She asked when he drew even with her.

He gave a negative shake of his head. “Sea level.” The two words drained all his oxygen and he doubled over, wheezing. Zi manipulated the straw on his hydration pack until it reached the corner of his mouth.

“Drink,” she said, knowing it was another thing one couldn’t accomplish while breathing. His labored breathing sent a shiver through her. After he stood up and turned his head to fully latch on to the straw, Zi sipped from her own pack. “Sips,” she told him.

The short trek from the landing pad to the base camp took much longer than anticipated. Their guide returned for them several times, grunting when they stumbled after him. He led them to a large tent at the central edge of the sea of canvas which made up EBC City.

Inside, a wiry man with weather-beaten skin sat behind a desk. He stood when they entered. His smile gleamed white in his sun-burned face.

“Miss Oohara, welcome.”

Zi nodded.

“Acclimatization issues? Amazing the difference a few thousand feet can make.”

“He’s an islander,” Zi thumbed toward Akolo who had collapsed in a chair near the door, head between his knees. The Sherpa hadn’t entered the tent with them. Air eased into her lungs, and the tightness behind her ribs relaxed.

The mountaineer moved to a wall of climbing equipment, pulling a small oxygen cylinder and mask from the center. His quick strides had him beside Akolo in moments. He knelt beside the boy, fitting the mask over his face with one hand while turning the flow valve with the other.

Akolo jerked away at first, relaxing once he sucked in the life-giving gas. The tent magnified his labored breathing. Soon, it became steadier and finally slowed to normal.

Zi’s hand fumbled against the zipper of her day pack. She retrieved the signed forms. “Your copy,” she said, extending them to the man.

Another grin split his face. Zi doubted she would feel like smiling anytime soon. The thought of it zapped her energy. He took the papers, shuffling them into a folder on his desk. An electronic copy remained with the legal office in Kathmandu where she signed them. As much as technology advanced, the only power at EBC came through generators and not even satellites could hook a computer to the Internet at this location. From the summit, it was a different story. When she re-zipped her pack, a small plastic box in the secure interior pocket caught her eye.

“Our accommodations and the medic.” Her brusque tone surprised her. Where did she find the fortitude to sound like a Oohara?

“Of course,” he said. “I’ll leave the oxygen canister with your friend. He needs to limit how much he uses or it’ll hinder acclimatization.”

Even with the special serum? Zi didn’t ask. She wrapped her arm around Akolo, helping him stand. His weight leaning against her as they wove through the maze of tents made her legs ache. She left him lying on the cot nearest the door of their tent and followed the trekker to the tent marked on every side with the universal symbol for medics: a red cross.

The doctor, a woman in her late 50s, scowled deeply at Zi’s request. After shooting a dose into Zi’s right shoulder - none too gently, the glaring physician sent her aide, armed with a mechanical injector, to give Akolo his dose of serum .

“She’s a mountaineer first,” the aide, a woman in her 30s, said on the walk back to the rented tent. “You are hardly the first to bring this onto the mountain. She thinks any shortcut is treasonous.”

“Treason? Because I’m in a hurry to get on the mountain?”

The woman nodded. “Everest should be earned.” The glint in her eyes when she met Zi’s gaze advised against disputing this assertion. She might not be as verbal in her opposition to the serum, but she obviously agreed that using it was the same as cheating.

Akolo winced when the aide gave him the shot and stared at her while she cautioned him about overusing the oxygen. Zi puttered around the small room, wrinkling her nose at the portable propane heater. She adjusted its thermostat, and it rumbled to life. After unwrapping a high-protein bar for Akolo and double-checking his water bladder, she paced between the door and her cot while taking small bites of her own bar.

“Aren’t you tired?” Akolo sounded like a frog. He rolled his head toward her and she stopped beside him.

“Just want to get on with it,” she said.

“You’re making me tired,” he said and his eyes fluttered shut.

She smiled at his emphatic proof. The final bite of unsatisfying nutrition offered nothing more than sustenance. Zi stuffed the wrapper into the small garbage receptacle by the door and straightened the gray sleeping bag on her cot. She checked both sides of the square pillow. Seeing nothing of concern, she untied her boots, slipped them off and slid into the bag. She shrugged out of her sleek arctic coat, tossing it over the foot of her bed.

Was Ezer nearby? When would he contact them? With a resounding click, the heater shut off. In the silence, Akolo’s breathing, shallow but steady, lulled her into a dreamless state.