Flash fiction: Because It Was There
“Thanks.” George Mallory stared into the teacup the Sherpa handed him. He would have no more chances to climb Everest. He was already too old to try, but he determined to do it anyway.
He stood in the small tent and thought for a moment of walking out and pacing for a while to wear off the jitters. But it would take up too much oxygen, and they had used enough of it in the day’s climb. Twenty one thousand feet above sea level and there were still eight thousand feet to go. Oxygen. All he could think about was oxygen.
Sitting back down again, he took a sip of the warm yak butter tea the Sherpas all drank. They called it “goor goor” and told him it was good for him. His gloved hands dwarfed the little teacup as he raised it to his mouth.
“Now, Mallory, really.” Irvine pushed aside the tent flap, already talking. He was always talking, always wasting oxygen. “You really should reconsider. Finch used it, after all.”
“But it’s completely unsportsmanlike.” Mallory drained the teacup and set it aside, wincing as the hot, buttery liquid settled in his throat like a hot lump. He swallowed. “We can’t use oxygen. Not like that.”
“Then, for heaven’s sake, why did we bring it with us?” Irvine stomped the snow from his boots and rubbed his arm.
“For an emergency.” Mallory said. “Only for emergencies.”
“Well I’d say this is a bloody emergency.” Irvine said. “Look, I’ve made adjustments to the tanks; they’re going to work just fine now.”
“They were fine earlier.” Glancing at the Sherpas who watched them with lidded eyes, Mallory bit back the resentment in his voice. It wasn’t fair to Irvine to snap at him like this. They would only have one chance to get up the mountain before the season ended, before they went back to England and he would be too old to try again. “Look. The climber does best to rely on his natural abilities, which warn him whether he is overstepping the bounds of his strength. With artificial aids, he exposes himself to the possibility of sudden collapse if the apparatus fails.”
“But they won’t. They’re even better now.” Irvine smiled.
“Look, I appreciate your concern, Irvine, but this is going a little too far.”
“Shouldn’t we though? We’ve tried everything else.”
Mallory looked at the mountain, shimmering in the brilliant sun. He wore tinted goggles to prevent him from becoming snow blind, but still the sight dazzled him. The mountain that had confounded so many tantalized him. He had to get to the peak, he just had to. And he had to do it now. He was getting too old for this business.
When he had left England, he had promised that he would surmount the biggest obstacle in the world. He still meant to. But the air… he took a deep breath, feeling the cold as tiny icicles in his lungs. There was so little oxygen.
Turning back to the camp, he trudged to his tent. Irvine was there, holding an oxygen canister in his hands. “Look, Mallory, didn’t I tell you?”
“Yes, Irvine.” Mallory sighed, feeling the oxygen leave his lungs, precious oxygen. It was all he had left, that and his pride.
Mallory struck his pick into another snow bank, taking a breath of oxygen from the tank. Precious oxygen. It saturated his lungs, made him giddy. He glanced back at Irvine and frowned. The man lagged behind, his mask pressed to his face.
They had made progress in the past hour, climbing higher and further than any had in the past. He pulled out his altimeter and glanced at it. They had made it past the furthest height ever traveled by man. Despite the freezing wind that tried to pull him from the side of the mountain, despite the oxygen he needed to breathe so desperately, a small flare of accomplishment warmed him.
He turned again to look back at Irvine and saw that the man had disappeared. The rope between them tugged sharply. Panic arced through him like lightning. Bracing against a rock, he stood from his crouched position and peered down the incline.
Irvine lay on a cliff several hundred feet below Mallory’s position, bleeding from his head. He tried pulling on the rope between them, but he couldn’t get purchase on the side of the mountain.
He should go back to the base camp, get some help. If they approached it from another angle, they would be able to retrieve the body, at least.
And yet… he glanced up at the summit. He knew distances were deceiving at these heights, but it looked so close… so close.
Mallory staggered to his feet and picked up his pickaxe. The summit was so close. He could make it. If he just made it, then Irvine wouldn’t have died in vain. They would be famous, together. The first men to reach the summit.
He cut the rope and began climbing.
His oxygen tank lay in the snow.
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