Alphas in the Wild (15 page)

Her ice screw popped from the wall. She made a grab for the rope and closed her arms around it. Air currents jockeyed her upward and out onto the glacier.

Tina blinked. The thick cloud cover was gone. Between an almost full moon and a sky full of stars, she could see without her lamp. She started to coil the rope, but the same insistent air pushed her. “Okay, okay.” She held the mass of Perlon against her chest and staggered down the glacier. It was easy to avoid the crevasses. She could see where they were now.

Her mind rebelled at what had just happened. Maybe she’d died in the crevasse or maybe she hadn’t fallen into one at all. Maybe she’d hit her head when she plummeted off the ridge, had a seizure on the glacier, and this was a postictal state. She shook her head sharply, willing a return of rational thought.

“We are not done, doctor. Stop there.”

Tina couldn't move. Her feet were mired in place. A glowing form took shape next to her. She stared up at it and gasped, surprised she had any adrenaline left to react to anything. This wasn’t possible. It couldn’t be happening. The thing was over seven feet tall, and it shimmered so brightly she couldn’t look directly at it.

An unseen force yanked one of her arms away from her body. The rope fell in a pile at her feet. Bright light descended. It cut through her jacket and the clothing beneath. She tried to twist her body away, but couldn’t. Blood welled and dripped onto the snow. Clear white light enveloped her, and something thick and golden oozed into the open cut on her arm.

“What are you doing?” Terror skittered along her nerves, and she shook uncontrollably. She tried to move, but was still frozen in place.

“You made me a promise, doctor. I am sealing your word with a blood bond. Seven years. If you break your vow, our shared blood gives me the right to kill you.”

Tina opened her mouth to protest, to tell the thing it hadn’t told her everything before she agreed, but the pulsating light vanished. She turned in a circle to make certain she was alone. Blood dripped from her arm, staining the snow crimson. Her tent shone pale yellow in the moonlight not a hundred yards away. She staggered toward it.

What the hell had just happened?

Stop! I can’t think about this now. If I do, it’ll drive me into a place I don’t want to go.

Inside her tent, she stripped off her jackets and long underwear. She flicked on a lighter and took a look at her arm. At least there wasn’t any evidence of the golden goo. Maybe she’d imagined that part. She needed stitches, but they’d have to wait. She was just too tired. As a stopgap, she doused her arm with Betadine, wrapped it with a pressure bandage, and fell into an exhausted sleep.

* * * *

T
ina glanced around her. Still lost in the past, it took a moment to orient herself. She was about a mile-and-a-half from home. Colorado sunshine shone warmly on her, but she was chilled to her bones.

After leaving Bolivia, she’d returned to the rental house she shared with her climbing partner and lover, Craig Robson. He’d been guiding clients in Antarctica, so she had the house to herself. At first, she’d thought her solitude was a boon, but the harder she tried to make sense out of what happened to her on Illimani, the more tangled things became. She wondered if she were having a late schizophrenic break, or if she’d truly traded away her humanity in a pact with the devil.

Craig blew through their front door one day in mid-January with a huge smile on his face and a ring in his pocket.

Tina grimaced and forced herself to run faster. It was hard to think about the day Craig asked her to marry him. There was no way she could be his wife. She had no idea what she’d gotten herself into in Bolivia, no inkling of what the ramifications would be. The whole thing was too weird to even try to explain, and she was frightened she’d put Craig at risk if she told him anything.

Even without Bolivia, she’d had other reservations. In truth, she hadn’t been ready to marry anyone—not then, and not in the years since. The look on his face when she turned him down still haunted her.

She slammed into her house, blowing hard. Usually, she cooled down. Today she was too edgy, her nerves jangling with tension. Tina poured coffee into an oversized mug and slugged some back. It burned, but its bitterness tasted good. She savored it and waited for the blast of caffeine to hit.

Cup gripped in her hand, she forced herself into her study. No more running today. She had things to do. Reaching down, she booted up her computer. No getting around it. She had to go back to Bolivia. If she didn’t, the next supernatural visit would mean her death. Better to die on her feet in a direct confrontation than pinned to her mattress.

The Microsoft menu scrolled across the screen. She brought up the Internet and typed in the URL for Craig’s guide service. If she got lucky, he’d have a trip to Bolivia planned in the next couple of months. She wanted to see Craig one last time before she faced whatever had hauled her out of the crevasse and threatened her this morning in her bedroom.

She’d signed on as team doctor for his expeditions a few times, but they’d never talked about anything personal. This time she’d gather her courage and apologize. If she was going to die, she wanted to leave with a clear conscience, and she’d never felt right about how they parted.

F
our weeks later in the Bolivian Andes

“Hey, Tina. Hold up.”

She ground to a halt. The air at fifteen thousand feet was thin enough she didn’t mind stopping. “Yeah, Craig. What is it?” She turned to face him.

“Everyone else is at least half an hour behind. The countryside is riddled with banditos, so we need to wait for the clients.” He chugged up beside her, panting. “Shit, had to run to catch you.” He bent forward, hands on his knees, and sucked at the high altitude air.

She swiped at sweat dripping down her forehead. “I haven’t seen anyone since we passed that bunch of would-be revolutionaries burning tires in the middle of a donkey track a couple hours ago. You know how these South American countries are. There’s always civil unrest. Besides,” she laughed, “if they kill off the tourists, they fuck themselves.”

Craig Robson straightened his six-foot-four-inch frame. Broad shouldered and slim-hipped, he wore a tattered pair of black Patagonia climbing pants, heavy glacier boots, and a green-striped Polartec jacket, topped by a black down vest. He’d stopped panting, his breathing under control. At the mercy of a stiff breeze, shoulder-length blond hair wafted around his high cheek-boned face.

He moved his dark glasses to the top of his head and narrowed his green eyes. “I wish you wouldn’t make light of things. It’s dangerous—”

She waved him to silence. Wind plastered red strands across her eyes, so she tucked her hair under her jacket hood. “The real danger in these mountains is what you can’t see.”

“What’s gotten into you, Tina? This part of the Andes doesn’t have anything particularly technical. Shit. You’ve climbed in the Himalaya and Alaska and Antarctica. Canada too. Now those are some gnarly peaks.” He rolled his eyes. “These are almost a joke.”

She winced. Seven years ago, she’d thought the same thing and look where it led her.

Can’t tell him that.

“Uh, the snowpack isn’t as good as it was when I was here last. Global warming, or something, has had a hell of an impact. We’ll be lucky if falling ice blocks don’t knock the lot of us into oblivion.”

He cocked his head to one side and eyed her speculatively. Craig knew her. They’d lived together for a few years. Both hard-headed, they’d butted opinions often, even before his marriage proposal sent her running out the door.

No matter what, climbing was her first love. She’d seethed all the way through medical school and her residency in emergency medicine, impatient for the time she’d be free to sign on as team doctor for big mountain expeditions. In the meantime, she’d done all the climbing she could in her native Rocky Mountains and in the Sierras, Cascades, and Alaska. Climbing was the life she wanted. Marriage—especially to a climber—would only complicate things. Climbers’ wives ended up sitting home raising children.

She and Craig climbed together long before they became romantically involved, as perfectly attuned to one another roped up as they were in bed. The worst part about ending their relationship was losing her favorite climbing partner.

While she’d been honing her medical skills, he built a reputation as an ace guide, eventually starting his own company. She hadn’t seen him for at least five years, then one day he called out of the blue and invited her to the Karakoram. Their team doc had gotten sick, and the expedition was leaving in a week. Could she fill in?

Tina loved the Himalaya. Its vastness and eight thousand meter peaks were like a magnet, drawing her back again and again. She’d expected him to hit on her on that trip, but he never had. He’d called her a few more times to join trips, but he’d always been unfailingly proper: sociable, but cool. His lack of interest disappointed her—never mind, she’d been the one to leave him—but she’d matched his nonchalance.

The current trip to the Andes was a last minute request as well, but with a twist. She’d been the one doing the asking.

He was still looking at her, his brows drawn together. “You were pretty vague about why you wanted to come on this expedition. You’ve already climbed Sajama and Illimani.”

Uh-oh. Dangerous territory.

“Is there some rule that says I can’t climb something twice?”

“Well, there are a lot of mountains. Eventually, we run out of time. What are you now? Thirty-seven?”

“Thirty-six,” she mumbled. “My pack’s heavy. Do you mind if we get moving again? Base camp’s at least another couple miles. It will take a while at this altitude.”

“Hang on.” He keyed his radio and held a brief conversation with Gunter, his co-leader for the expedition, who was herding the clients along the rocky, uphill trail. Craig dropped the radio back into a pocket and nodded at her.

“Yeah, we can get moving. The others aren’t far behind anymore. I was hot moving uphill, but the breeze has a bite to it now that I’m standing still.” He fell into step next to her.

“So what’s with the rest of the team? How’d they get so far behind?” Tina thought about the six Americans who’d hired Craig for this Andean climbing junket. All males, none of them had known one another before meeting in La Paz four days before. She’d started dosing three with Diamox since even the thirteen thousand foot elevation of the airport gave them a raging headache. One was already coughing. Not a good sign. Illimani was over twenty-one thousand feet. Half the clients didn’t have a chance in hell of making the summit.

Craig shrugged. “Gunter’s shepherding them along. I know the two of you didn’t hit it off, but he’s a good assistant guide. I’ve taken him on at least ten trips, maybe eleven. I’ve lost count.”

Tina thought about the intense young German with short, dark hair and dark eyes. Medium height, with elegant mannerisms and a lithe build, he looked like an escapee from an elite boarding school. Top of the line climbing gear too. She wondered where he got the money. Most climbing guides were poor as dirt. His command of English was so meager, she’d given up trying to talk with him. It struck her as unusual, since most Europeans spoke English quite well.

She shook her head. “I don’t mean Gunter. Although, since you brought him up, what if something happens? He can’t speak English, which means he won’t be able to communicate with the clients.”

“He knows enough.” Craig sounded defensive.

“Mmph.” She recognized the protective note in his voice and changed subjects. “What’s with the clients? They seem incredibly inept. When you had them practice with their harnesses and jumars, it looked as if half of them had never seen a rope before.”

“They all told me they’d been to at least fourteen thousand feet. I figured they’d manage. The climbing’s not especially technical. Peaks here are high-altitude walkups.”

Tina clamped her jaw shut, thinking she needed to keep her opinions to herself.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“I know that look. Whatever’s running through your head isn’t
nothing
.”

“Okay. Fine.” She ignored the rich baritone of his voice and lengthened her stride. Her almost six-foot height and long legs meant she could out-walk and out-climb most men. Let him keep up if he wanted to hear her next words.

“There are crevasses on all the snowfields. The snowpack is thin. When I was last here there was a snow bridge before that fifty degree pitch just below the summit plateau. I’ll bet it’s gone now. It will be tough getting around that crevasse and the one butted up against the face. Especially with this group.”

She stopped and spun to face him, hands on her hips. “You used to screen clients. What the hell happened?”

An uncomfortable look flitted across his face. “Not so many clients, what with the recession and all. I can’t be as picky as I used to be. Besides,” he glared at her, “the Andes are the easiest high altitude peaks in the world.”

“People still die here,” she said through gritted teeth. “Just look at all the crosses at the mountain huts.”

“Let’s not fight.” He flashed a grin. “I haven’t lost too many clients over the years. Not planning to add to the tally here. Lighten up, doc.”

She turned from him and began walking again. Even if he were worried, he’d never talk with her about it. He’d been a guide for too long. They kept their fears locked deep inside. Almost as if giving voice to them would tempt fate.

In an attempt to divert herself, she swept her gaze across her surroundings. The countryside was beautiful, rolling alpine meadows with streams cutting through them. Llamas grazed in small groups. They’d left trees behind before they passed through Estancia Una. At twelve thousand feet, it was the last real settlement before Illimani base camp. Pinaya was a little higher, but it wasn’t much more than a collection of dirt-floored huts with thatched roofs.

They’d also left the few horses, pigs, and chickens belonging to the villagers behind as they ascended the steep track winding upward. She breathed in the thin air. It was clean and bracing. Living in ten thousand foot Leadville gave her a definite edge. It was why most mountaineers lived high if they could. Acclimatization to altitude was much easier if your body was already used to eight or ten thousand feet.