The Everest Files Read Free Page A

cloths to my forehead in an attempt to break down the fever.
    The pain in my chest was a give away and I now realised I had pneumonia, a lung infection almost certainly caused by the freezing rain and exhaustion of the trek. Every time I breathed I got this dagger stab of pain which felt like someone was twisting a Kitchen Devil into my ribs.
    I was gobsmacked to be so sick. I was young. I was fit. I had never had a serious illness in my life. But my travellers’ medical handbook put me right; you can get pneumonia at any age, it said. Sometimes these things happen.
    That night was the crisis. I was really in a state.
    It got so bad that Shreeya actually put up a small shrine next to my bed. Incense was lit and she sat cross-legged in prayer as she watched over me.
    Then, at the height of the fever, when I was almost delirious, Shreeya did the strangest thing.
    She took the photograph of her friend Kami and put it to my chest. Like it was some sort of charm, or held some sort of spiritual power. She held it there tightly, still muttering a prayer as I struggled to breathe.
    And the strangest thing of all was that it did have a result. At the very moment she was pressing the photograph to my body I sensed the pain in my chest beginning to ease off. For the first time in many hours I found myself able to breathe properly and the feeling of relief was almost overwhelming.
    Shreeya took away the photograph and placed it on the makeshift shrine. Her eyes were glittering with an internal light. She rang the small shrine bell as a way of communicating thanks to the gods and she told me gently, ‘I gave this shrine bell to my friend when he went to Everest. It was returned to me after the expedition, with no explanation about what happened to him.’
    Her words haunted me for hours. It seemed terrible not to know the fate of a loved one.
    At long last I fell into a weird sleep, filled with bad dreams. In one nightmare I was engulfed by an avalanche on some huge mountain. Buried in the snow I heard scraping sounds. Then came a face, smiling at me. My saviour.
    It was Kami – the boy from the picture.
    I woke with a start, sitting up fast as my chest muscles tightened up.
    I leaned over and picked up the photograph of Shreeya’s friend. I felt an odd connection to him now, and was much more curious than before.
    That morning the daily routines of the house went on around me. The buffalo were taken to the fields. The fire was lit in the room next door, the tinder crackling as it flared up. I heard the swish of Shreeya sweeping the floor with a hazel broom.
    I thought about how generous Shreeya had been to me. I was a stranger to her really but she had shown me the most incredible hospitality and care, even if her aunt had shown little interest in my problems.
    That night a nasty argument flared up between Shreeya and her aunt. I had no idea what it was about but it ended with the sound of a slap or two and I heard Shreeya sobbing. Later, when things had calmed down a bit, I was strong enough to join them for supper.
    Shreeya had a dark bruise on her cheek.
    â€˜You’ve been so kind,’ I told her. ‘What can I ever do to repay you?’
    Shreeya looked at her aunt, a stare of pure defiance. The aunt just gave her a poisonous look by return and swept out of the kitchen.
    â€˜I want you to make a journey,’ Shreeya told me earnestly. ‘I need you to find out the truth about Kami.’

Chapter 2

    It took me quite a few days to recover from my illness, but over the next four weeks the work at the village was done. We did a total refurb on the clinic, whitewashing the whole building and fixing the dodgy tiles on the roof.
    From time to time I had been asking around amongst the elders of the village, checking whether they knew anything about the fate of Shreeya’s friend Kami.
    But all I got was rumours and half-baked theories. Some had heard whispers about a Sherpa boy that had been kidnapped