The Edge Page 9

  The truth was that we were joining Zopa, but I didn’t say anything. Zopa was more than capable of defending himself or, in this case, not defending himself, because he didn’t respond to Phillip’s jab.

  Phillip looked up at the cliff face, then back at the group. “We’ll take a fifteen-minute breather here, then hike along the base until we find the right spot. We’re going to have to pick up our pace if we expect to have everyone in place by nightfall. You’ve no doubt heard what I’m going for by now. Five portaledges in an inverted V. Two climbers on the right, two on the left.”

  “In other words, a mountain,” Rafe said.

  Duh, Rafe.

  “I guess,” Phillip said.

  “Who’s going to be on top of the mountain?” Rafe asked, nullifying the whole idiotic inverted V thing, which I’m sure Phillip had insisted the film crew use if they had to describe the shot to us. I was kind of glad Rafe had outed Phillip on this dumb description.

  “It’s no big deal who’s on top,” Phillip said.

  “Cool,” Rafe said. “In that case, I volunteer.”

  Phillip shot him a smile, which we had all learned was probably not a good sign. “It isn’t as simple as that. I’ve got to think about the whole segment and how everything will flow. I’ve already decided the positions.”

  “Okay. Who’s in the top spot?” Rafe was not going to let this go, and it wasn’t going to go his way, or Phillip would have told him that he was on top. I wondered if he would stick to Alessia like glue when Phillip announced that she was on top.

  Phillip gave him a resigned sigh. “All right. Bottom right, Choma. Bottom left, Aki. Second right, Alessia. Second left, Rafe.”

  And that left Peak on the Peak, which I couldn’t have cared less about. “I’m fine with Rafe taking the top.”

  “That’s not up to you,” Phillip said. “Red is on top.”

  Red? Then I remembered that my portaledge was red. So was my tent and pack and almost everything else inside the pack. Plank, or maybe Phillip, had color-coded us. Alessia was the green climber. Rafe, yellow. Aki, blue. Choma, orange.

  “Seems to me you would want the best climber of the bunch on top,” Rafe said.

  Mom rolled her eyes. “It’s just a set shot. No one is going to be up for an Academy Award.”

  Here we go. But Zopa put a stop to it.

  “We will not need the portaledges.”

  “Of course we’re using the portaledges,” Phillip insisted. “That’s why I had Plank provide them. I have the letters P-E-A-C-E to attach to them.”

  Zopa pointed up at the cliff. Everyone looked up, but like I had at first, no one appeared to see the anchors.

  “We’re not climbing here,” Phillip says. “We’ll scout the cliff for the perfect spot. I knew it would take a while. That’s why I wanted to leave base camp early.”

  “Anchors,” Zopa said.

  Everyone looked again.

  Mom spotted them first. She started pointing. “There. And there. And there.”

  Everyone looked at Zopa.

  “You set anchors in the darkness?” Alessia asked.

  Zopa shrugged.

  He couldn’t have possibly set that many anchors on a rotten cliff face after sunrise. Even Rafe looked impressed. But not Phillip; he was frowning. He wasn’t a climber. He had no idea how difficult and dangerous this had been.

  “Waste of anchors and time,” he said.

  “If you find a better place, I will retrieve the anchors and meet you there,” Zopa said. “But this is the best place, as you will discover.”

  I hadn’t noticed, but Alessia had taken off her boots and was soaking her feet. Rafe was staring at her feet.

  Phillip shaded his eyes and stared up at the cliff in silence for a few moments, then looked at JR. “What do you think?”

  “It’s close to where we tried to climb yesterday and nearly killed ourselves. I’d hang on any anchor Zopa set. And to be honest, the entire cliff face looks pretty much the same to me. I don’t think it matters where we climb. If we use his anchors, it will save a ton of time, and it’ll be safe.”

  Phillip turned back to Zopa. “What do you mean we don’t need portaledges?”

  “You can use the tents inside the caves. Your peace letters will fit on the tents?”

  “I suppose.”

  Zopa pointed at the wall. The angle of the sun caused the anchors to shine like little mirrors. “Find the middle anchors. Above them is an eagle’s nest. See the sticks in the opening of the cave?”

  Phillip shook his head.

  “Wait.”

  Ten seconds later, maybe twelve, a huge eagle swooped in and landed on the edge of one of the caves.

  “Twenty-five feet down from the eagle cave is another cave,” Zopa continued without giving anyone an opportunity to ask him how he knew the eagle was going to return to its nest at that exact moment.

  “So?” Phillip said.

  “That is the top of your mountain. There are two more caves below on either side. A perfect A, or mountain.” Zopa looked at me and smiled. “Or Christmas tree. Set your tents in them. Plenty of room. It is more interesting if your climbers are camped in caves than hanging on a wall. More natural.”

  I think Plank missed the boat with the Peace Climb. A better topic for a documentary would be Zopa. Phillip stared back up at the cliff as if he was considering Zopa’s brilliant plan. Alessia’s bare foot touched my bare foot. I was surprised I could feel it, because my feet were numbed by the cold water.

  “Okay,” Phillip finally announced. “We’ll use the caves.”

  Alessia’s bare foot was still touching my bare foot. Phillip and the film crew headed out to scout the shots. Rafe lumbered over to us and sat down on the other side of Alessia. He took off his size-thirteen hiking boots, then peeled off white socks as big as grocery sacks and put his feet into the water.

  “Tepid,” he said. “I thought it would be cold.”

  I’m not drinking the water.

  Alessia’s bare foot is still touching my bare foot.

  The Eagles’ Nest

  “Test your radios,” Phillip says.

  He’s just given us the frequency we are to use. It’s early afternoon. The sun is well above the cliff.

  “I want a synchronized climb up the wall. Zopa and Teri will be spotting from down here. Peak will be in the middle, so everyone needs to pace themselves to him.” He looks at me. “Don’t go too fast. If you see someone lagging, slow down. I’m shooting for a straight line with blue and orange reaching their caves first, green and yellow next, and red last. There will be a lot of pauses on the way up to allow the cinematographers to get in and out of the frame for tight shots and sound.”

  In other words, the climb is going to take about a thousand times longer than it would if we weren’t filming it . . .

  “OKAY. ON THREE . . . two . . . one . . . roll film!”

  I started up. Just like the rappel the day before, we were all climbing the same wall but along different routes, each with its own challenges. The climbers to my left were looking up and to their right. The climbers to my right were looking up and to their left. I was looking up, left, and right. If I had been on a gym climbing wall, this would have been relatively easy. On a rotten wall in Afghanistan, it was nearly impossible. The other problem was my hands. My legs and feet were in pretty good shape, but my hands were soft. Within fifteen feet, I had several cuts.

  “Okay,” Phillip barked over the radio. “Drop down; we’ll do it again.”

  We did it again five more times, and each time it got a little easier, because each of us knew the route.

  “That’s a wrap! Good job, people! Just hang where you are for some tight shots with the film crew.”

  It wasn’t a wrap as in we are done filming. The tight shots took longer than our synchronized start. A lot longer. At our present pace, I figured we’d reach the caves in three days. JR was filming me, Alessia, and Rafe. Rafe always smiled and struck a climb
ing muscle pose when the camera was pointed at him. Alessia used a more neutral expression and never posed for the camera. When the camera was on me, I was certain I looked irritated. A climb that should have taken twenty minutes took nearly four hours, or in my case, five hours, because after everyone else got to their perch, I was attacked by an enraged eagle.

  I was shocked at how big an eagle looks when it’s trying to knock you off a vertical wall of rotten rock. On the first pass, it hit me with its wings.

  “Whoa! Missed it!” JR shouted.

  I was dangling by one hand. After three flailing tries, I found a narrow chink with my free hand, saving myself from falling to my death on the sharp scree hundreds of feet below.

  “I’m going to swing to the right so I can get a wide shot,” JR said.

  “A wide shot of what?”

  “Of the second attack.”

  “I don’t think there will be a second attack.”

  “Oh, yeah there will,” JR assured me.

  JR swung out on his rope and caught the edge of a cave thirty feet to my left, then heaved himself into a sitting position on the lip. It was an impressive and dangerous move. I wondered if he would have attempted it if there hadn’t been the possibility of getting a shot of me being peeled off the face of the cliff by a bird of prey.

  I looked behind. JR was right about me getting hit again. There were now two eagles and they were both circling back toward me. I looked up. My cave was still thirty feet above me. Below, Alessia and Rafe were already setting up their tents. I thought about rappelling down to Alessia’s cave and waiting for the eagles to calm down, but as pleasant as that would have been, there wasn’t time. I needed to get up to my perch before sunset. We had used most of our daylight during the slow ascent. Plus there was a good chance that the eagles wouldn’t settle down until we were off their cliff.

  “I’d get scrambling.”

  Mom. On the radio. She and Zopa were three hundred feet below, shading their eyes with their hands and looking up. Phillip was standing next to them with a pair of binoculars. I knew what he was hoping for.

  “Move. Or brace yourself for impact.”

  Duh, Mom. I couldn’t free up a hand to answer her. I scrunched up as best as I could on a vertical wall and shoved my face into a narrow crack to stop my eyeballs from getting plucked out. I felt the air from the first bird’s wings a second before it smashed into my helmet. This was followed by another hit on my pack, much harder than the first.

  “That was outstanding!” JR shouted.

  I didn’t take the time to call him a jerk. I started scrambling up before the next attack.

  “Zopa says the birds don’t like your red helmet and pack,” Mom said.

  A lot of good that did me. I couldn’t dump the pack. My tent and gear were in it. Without the gear there would be no A.

  “He says the birds have completely ignored the other climbers.”

  Bad luck for the red climber, I thought. Rafe probably had his fingers crossed, hoping I’d get scraped off.

  “Peak! Slow down, man! I need to film you reaching your cave!”

  Sorry, JR. Not happening, man!

  I started climbing faster. Just as I made it to the lip of my cave and began pulling myself up, I heard an eagle scream. A second later I was slammed in the back. My helmet bounced off the lip. I fell backward and was barely able to prevent a fall by jamming my index and middle fingers into a crack. I’m sure Mom was having a heart attack. I thought I might be having a heart attack. I grabbed a rotten rock with my free hand. The rock crumbled into rust colored chalk. I grabbed another rock. It held, thank God, or the Buddha, or whoever. I pulled myself up to the lip again, got a knee up, then . . .

  Bam!

  The second eagle hit me in the butt. I flew into the cave, smashing my face on the back wall, which was only six feet from the opening. I scrambled to my feet, shrugged out of my red pack, tore my red helmet off my head, then leaned out of the cave and waved so Mom knew I was alive. Alessia, Rafe, Aki, Choma, and the film crew were all leaning out looking up at me.

  “I got the butt strike,” JR said over the radio.

  Great. I unclipped my radio. “If you put it on YouTube, I will kill you.”

  “Roger that,” JR came back, then laughed.

  “I’m not kidding.”

  Alessia’s voice came over the radio. “Are you okay, Peak?”

  It was good to hear her voice. It was good to hear anyone’s voice.

  “I thought I saw blood on your face.”

  I wiped my hand across my face. There was blood. Quite a bit of blood.

  “I’m fine.”

  I looked out from my perch. The eagles were still circling, but they no longer seemed interested in me.

  “Okay, people.”

  Phillip. Only he called people “people.”

  “Let’s put that little excitement behind us and get back to the shot.”

  Oh, yeah, Phillip? You weren’t up here being attacked by eagles.

  “You all need to get your tents up so we can get an idea of where to put the cameras. I need the film crew down here for a meeting. Pronto.”

  Pronto? What was the matter with him?

  I keyed the radio. “Peak here. If it’s all the same to you, I’d like to wait until after dark before I set up my tent. I think Zopa called it right about the eagles being ticked off over the red.”

  I saw Mom and Zopa talking to Phillip. The film crew were rappelling down the cliff. Pronto.

  My radio crackled.

  “Uh, yeah, Peak. Phillip here. I’m not convinced it’s the red that got them excited. I think it might be your proximity to their nest, which is about twenty-five feet above your current position. Do you copy?”

  Actually, if I had leaned over the ledge, I could have copied it without a radio. He was standing a hundred yards away and almost shouting into the radio as if I were deaf.

  “Yeah, Phillip. I got that. I’m still going to wait until after dark to set up my tent. Don’t want to risk having it shredded before you get your shot.”

  This was followed by a long radio silence. Blood was dripping onto my lap from a cut on my chin. I rummaged through my pack for the first aid kit.

  “Roger that, Peak. But as soon as it gets dark, set up your tent. Everybody else? Get your tents up pronto, so we can start framing the shot. Put them as close to the edge as possible. And make sure your letter is clearly visible. You can move the tents back from the edge after the shoot.”

  I pulled all of the gear in as far as it would go and leaned against the back wall. There was a small mirror inside the kit. The slice on my chin was deep. If I’d been in the city, I’d have gone to the hospital and gotten a couple of stitches. But I was in a shallow cave in Afghanistan. No stitches. I managed to cinch the slice together with butterfly bandages.

  How’d you get that scar?

  Attacked by an eagle in Afghanistan.

  I was kind of looking forward to that exchange.

  There were at least two hours before nightfall. I couldn’t say the cave was cool, but there was a slight breeze drying my sweat, which made me feel cooler. The adrenaline from the near fall was quickly replaced by sheer exhaustion. Phillip and the other climbers were chattering away on the two-ways. I switched my radio off and closed my eyes.

  Survivor

  I open my eyes. I see stars against a black sky. Cave. I’m in a cave. The temperature has dropped by several degrees. I look at my watch. Ten o’clock. I’ve been asleep for five hours? Why didn’t they wake me? Why is it so quiet? I turn the radio on, expecting to hear Phillip shouting at me to set up my red tent. But there is nothing. I check the battery. It’s fine. I key the mike . . .

  “GUESS I FELL asleep.”

  Silence.

  “This is Peak.”

  Silence.

  “Copy?”

  Silence.

  I scrambled to the ledge. The wall and the ground were as dark as the sky.

  “Y
o! Can anybody hear me? My radio isn’t working.”

  Silence.

  I wondered if I was having a nightmare. I touched my chin. The butterfly bandages were still in place.

  “Is anybody there?”

  Silence.

  How could twelve people simply vanish without a trace? Impossible.

  I spent another five minutes shouting.

  Nothing.

  I put my headlamp on. I still had a short coil of rope. It wasn’t long enough to get to the ground, but it was more than long enough to reach the other caves. The only problem was that it was pitch-dark. I couldn’t see the ground. I couldn’t see ten feet below my cave. The sane thing to do would have been to wait until morning, but the situation was crazy and called for insane action. I tested the anchor Zopa had set on the lip of my cave, ran my rope through, then lowered myself into the dark.

  I went to Rafe’s cave first, because his was the easiest to get to. His yellow tent was still up. The only thing inside was a small lantern hanging from the roof pole. His pack and gear were gone. There was a white E attached to the outside of the tent facing toward the cave opening. By sticking my head out over the edge of his cave, I could see now that all of the tents were lit from the inside.

  P-E-C-E.

  The bright letters gave me an idea. If everyone disappeared the moment I fell asleep, which seemed unlikely, they would just be getting to base camp, providing that was where they were going. The point was, they might have been able to see the lit tents from wherever they were. I looked at Rafe’s lantern. Of course it was the best that money could buy, and of course it had an emergency strobe mode. I switched it on, hoping that if I got all four tents flashing, they’d know I’d been in their caves, that I knew they had vanished.

  It took an hour to check the other three caves. Tents. No gear. Nobody home. All the caves were shallow. No back doors. The only way out was to climb down the wall using Zopa’s anchors.

  Zopa.

  It wouldn’t have surprised me if Zopa had left me stranded in a cave. I expected odd behavior from the mysterious monk. But Mom would never have done this. Not in a million years. If there had been a problem with the radios and they had to suddenly leave, she would have scaled the cliff in the dark, unprotected, to reach me.