Savage Mountain by John Smelcer

Author:John Smelcer
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Leapfrog Press
Published: 2015-06-09T04:00:00+00:00

At about 12,000 feet, they called it a day and set up their tent on the only flat spot they could find, a precarious ledge about nine feet wide by fifteen or sixteen feet long with a 3,000-foot free fall below. They secured the tent’s guy-lines to pitons hammered into the cliff face, so the tent wouldn’t blow off the ledge with them inside. Climbers call such a precarious perch on a mountainside a bivouac. They were both exhausted, unused to the physical demands of climbing a high mountain in deep snow with a wind blasting in their faces. No amount of training prepares climbers for the actual rigors encountered once on the mountain, though it certainly doesn’t hurt to stay in shape. Climbers frequently lose significant weight on expeditions, returning home gaunt as ghosts.

After a dinner of reconstituted chicken teriyaki with rice, Sebastian examined both pairs of crampons, checking the leather straps for damage and sharpening any spikes that had dulled. He knew it was imperative to take care of their equipment.

Their lives depended on it.

Later, once again lying inside their green sleeping bags on their blue pads, James played his harmonica while Sebastian was rereading the soliloquy where Hamlet asks himself the famous question, “To be, or not to be?” The play really spoke to Sebastian, who was only a few years younger than was Hamlet and equally confused. He didn’t know any better than Hamlet what to do. He didn’t know what course of action he should take. He felt as if no one in the world would understand what he was going through. He was often overwhelmed with a sense of being alone.

Just like Hamlet.

Sebastian folded the corner of the page he was reading and settled the book across his chest.

“I don’t know why he hates us so much,” he said casually to the tent ceiling.

“What?” asked James, stopping mid-song.

“Your question last night . . . about Dad . . . about why he hates us.”

Neither brother said anything for a long minute. James played a few depressing notes on his harmonica and then stopped.

“Which one of us do you think he hates the most?” he asked.

“That’s a dumb question. He hates us both.”

“I think he hates you more because you were the one who first ruined his life,” said James matter-of-factly. “You made him a prisoner by having to get married young because Mom was pregnant with you. Maybe he had other dreams for his life and you took them away.”

James remembered the afternoon when he’d came home and heard his father shouting and breaking all his trophies.

“He really hates you for that. Maybe he sees how bright your future is going to be and he resents you for it. You keep trying to impress him, like climbing this stupid mountain, but all you do is make him hate you more. I bet he wishes you were never born.”

“Shut up! Shut up!” Sebastian shouted, violently shaking his fist inches from his brother’s face, as if he wanted to punch him in the mouth to stop him from talking.

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