The Decision · Eleven Steps From the Edge · Pulse Beat
He had to choose, and he chose badly. He remembers it, afterwards, as one moment, but of course it was many: Peter on his knees, Dorje calling from above, Helen and Anjali and Marc moving up in the…
He had to choose, and he chose badly.
He remembers it, afterwards, as one moment, but of course it was many: Peter on his knees, Dorje calling from above, Helen and Anjali and Marc moving up in the dark, a team spread thin over a wind-scoured ridge. He could take Peter down alone: ninety minutes, maybe two hours, in the dark, with one tired client. Or he could hand him to Dorje, who was strong, who was nearer, who had laughed at every danger for twenty years, and go on up with the three who could still make the top.
He did not have to think long. Dorje was the best. "Dorje!" he shouted up. "Come down, take Peter! I'll take the others!"
A pause. The wind. Then, small and distant: "Okay! I'm coming!"
Tashi watched his friend's headlamp come down the rope, a small bright star in the immense black. They clasped hands, briefly, in thick gloves. "Be careful," said Tashi.
"Always," said Dorje, grinning behind the mask.
It was the last thing he said.