Jake Atlas and the Quest for the Crystal Mountain Page 13

  “Manchester United! They are after us!”

  “I know, Tenzin!”

  “Who is that lady?”

  “No one good!”

  We had a fifty-metre head start, speeding down an almost vertical snow slope in a half-ton metal sledge – but still she was catching up. She was screaming, but her cries were lost in the rush of wind and the scraping of the trailer against snow.

  “Manchester United!” Tenzin wailed. “Where are we sliding?”

  I’d been so focused on escaping that I’d not thought about where we were escaping to. I scrambled to the front of the trailer and thumped at a hatch to the driver’s cab until it swung open, revealing a sideways view out of the truck’s windscreen. What I saw was not good.

  I turned, yelling at Tenzin.

  “Grab hold of something!”

  There was nothing other than yak hides, so we grabbed each other just as the front of the cab smashed into boulders on the mountainside. The entire truck flipped up and over. For a fraction of a second we hung in the air with a dozen yak hides; then the truck slammed back onto the snow and continued its speed-sledge down the mountain.

  We were sliding backwards now. My view from the windscreen showed Veronika firing her laser-cannon, shattering rocks, and her crazy, grinning face as her ski tank burst through a cloud of snow.

  The truck hit another rock and we spun around again. One hundred metres ahead, snow became sky where part of the mountain had collapsed, forming a ravine. There was a smooth, white rise, like a ski jump, and then ten metres of nothing before the slope continued on the other side. We were headed straight for the drop, with no way to change course.

  “We have to get out of here!” I yelled.

  “But a devil is chasing us!” Tenzin cried.

  He was right; we couldn’t just jump out the back. Veronika would be on us in seconds. She was even closer now, screaming so loudly that her frozen breath came out like steam engine blasts.

  “Manchester United? Think!”

  “I am thinking!”

  “Think faster!”

  We were fifty metres from the ravine. There was no way the truck would clear the jump, it was far too heavy…

  I looked away from the windscreen, breathed deeply and tried to calm my thoughts. I wished my mum was there, and my dad and my sister. With them, it just seemed to work. All I had now were my smart-goggles and a load of yak hides.

  Unless…

  Of course!

  I grabbed Tenzin and dragged him to the back of the trailer. I snatched a yak pelt and pressed it into his arms.

  “Toboggan!” I screamed. “Tenzin, toboggan!”

  There was no time to explain; I hoped he could work it out for himself. This truck was too heavy to jump that ravine, but maybe we weren’t.

  Tenzin was about to ask more, but I shoved him out of the back of the van. Then I grabbed another hide and leaped out after him.

  I hit the snow in a roll and slid behind the truck. I caught a glimpse of Tenzin, relieved to see he’d sussed out the plan. He lay on his stomach on the yak hide, gunning straight after the truck and for the jump.

  That’s what I needed to do too, but I was out of control. The yak hide slipped from my grip but I yanked it back to my chest. I kicked and rolled, so I was on my belly on the hide, facing up the slope to where Veronika had stopped her ski tank to watch me slide to my death.

  She might have got her wish had I not seen the grin on her face. It made me want to live more than ever, just to annoy her. I yanked harder on the hide, steering after Tenzin. There was no time to turn. I was going to go over the jump feet first, but there wasn’t much I could do about that now…

  I snatched a glance over my shoulder and saw the truck shoot up the snow slide, plummet over the end and vanish. I heard Tenzin scream as he rushed after it, but I didn’t see him go over. I raised my legs so the yak-hide sledge fired me off the jump and into the air. I flew ten metres, screaming the whole way. I glimpsed a ball of flames below as the truck hit the bottom of the ravine, and then I thumped down, inches from the edge of the slope – and kept sliding.

  My scream turned into one of relief and then a whooping victory cheer as I glanced back and saw Veronika trapped on the other side of the ravine. She revved her ski tank, but even she was smart enough to know it would never clear the jump. I stopped cheering, suddenly aware that if we ever met again she would skin me alive.

  And, anyway, I wasn’t out of trouble yet. The slope beyond the ravine steepened until it was almost vertical and was littered with boulders. I dug a boot into the snow, but there was no way to slow down. The best I could manage was a frantic slalom, thrusting my weight from side to side to steer away from the obstacles. Mostly I failed, so I pinballed from one rock to the other, only just keeping hold of the yak hide.

  Then it was a straight shoot to the valley floor, and all I could do was cling on to my sledge and scream. Wind and snow lashed at my face. I was going so fast, at such a fierce incline, that the yak hide skipped up from the ground and thumped back down, as if I might suddenly start falling rather than sliding. I guess I closed my eyes, because the next thing I knew I was lying in a heap of snow, looking up at the grinning face of my travelling companion.

  I’d made it to the valley. To safety.

  Excitement shone in Tenzin’s eyes as he helped me up and brushed snow from my chuba. He looked like he’d just come off the best-ever fairground ride.

  “So,” he asked, “are you enjoying Tibet so far?”

  Tibet had been crazy, and we still had a long way to our destination, filled with who knew what dangers. But I couldn’t help it – I laughed. Tenzin joined in, and we leaned on each other as relief and elation came out in a fit of manic giggles.

  Our laughter stopped as a motor revved higher up the mountain. Kyle and Veronika were still there. I grabbed Tenzin, and we set off running across the valley; away from the hunters, but not, I feared, towards safety.

  28

  We kept going.

  Up and over another mountain, across another valley, up and over again. Each time we climbed higher we found more prayer flags. Seriously, I had no idea where Tibetans got them all from; I wondered if there were shops among the hills – Prayer Flags R Us. Some hung like dirty washing between bamboo poles, bleached by the sun. Others were piled in heaps over a cairn or chorten, as if the person doing all the washing had given up and dumped it all on the rocks.

  Gradually the landscape changed. Valley floors, which had been dry and craggy, became spongy and boggy, and then a swamp, which we sank into shin-deep with each step. I spotted plants – scrubby little things that Tenzin delighted in naming, as if we were on a nature hike. He even knew which ones we could eat.

  “Juniper,” he called. “And this one is zheibamedu. Good for cough.”

  I didn’t have a cough, but I was hungry enough to gnaw every little root he dug up. We’d lost our supplies when we’d fled Kyle and Veronika, so this was all we had. It wasn’t too bad; one tasted like liquorice and another could have been parsnip if I closed my eyes, which I didn’t because Tenzin kept trying to make me eat a fat grub worm he’d foraged, and I drew the line at that.

  He collected some mushrooms too, and some other bits and bobs that he refused to let me try, insisting they were for later. But what really excited Tenzin was poo. Every time he discovered a fresh pile of yak dung, he squealed like he’d found buried treasure. He made a rucksack out of his robes, with two separate compartments. Into one went steaming fresh yak poo, while the other was filled with dried-out dung that he scraped from rocks. Every time I asked why, he just grinned, but if he expected me to eat any of that stuff, then we were going to have serious words.

  We stopped hiking when it got dark and found a cave in a mountainside. It wasn’t much shelter and it reeked of damp, but it was better than trying to sleep in the brutal cold that attacked the valley the moment the sun retreated behind the mountains.

  Tenzin produced one o
f his yak dung collections with a “ta da”, like a magician revealing an empty top hat. What happened next was actually really cool, despite my disapproving scowls. He made a fire out of the dried yak dung! He’d obviously done it before, because it took him no time – rolling the dried poo into sticks, and then cracking rocks together to create sparks. In seconds the dung sticks were burning. The smoke smelled terrible but I didn’t care. I huddled closer to the flames as icy wind swept into our cave.

  We ate more roots and leaves, and I imagined they were cheeseburgers, which didn’t help because they weren’t cheeseburgers. But as Tenzin stared into the fire, his smile fell away and he went quiet again. It was as if he’d seen something in the flames.

  Seeing him so sad, and knowing I was partly to blame, stabbed at my chest. “You OK, Tenzin?” I asked.

  He looked up suddenly, as if he’d forgotten I was there. “Yes.”

  “Are you thinking about your monastery?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, we’re going to find that chorten. You can pray there, and get permission to rebuild your home. Everything will be OK.”

  “Maybe, Manchester United.”

  “You know my name is Jake.”

  He nodded vaguely, but still there was no hint of his trademark smile.

  “Does Tenzin mean anything?” I asked.

  “Yes. It means ‘holder of the teachings of the Buddha’.”

  “Holder? Like they’re inside you?”

  “Yes, inside. What does Jake mean?”

  “I… Actually, I don’t think it means anything.”

  “Oh. Then I prefer Manchester United.”

  I shrugged – fair enough.

  “So, what’s the rest of the dung for?” I asked. “The fresh stuff? Please don’t say it’s breakfast.”

  His grin returned and his eyes glittered in the firelight. “This is for the cold,” he explained.

  “The cold?”

  “What is the word? Insulation.”

  I stared at him, and then the dung, trying to think of any way that “fresh yak poo” and “insulation” made sense together.

  “You mean we spread it on the rocks?” I asked.

  “No, Manchester United. Not on the rocks.”

  I watched in horror as he lifted his robes and smeared the steaming stuff over his legs, and then across his chest and up his neck. If you’ve never seen yak dung, just imagine doing that with a fresh cowpat and you’ll get why I was so grossed out.

  Tenzin lay back, wrapping his robes tight again, and using his chuba like a blanket. “Nice and warm all night now,” he said. “You do same.”

  I stared at the dung, and laughed. If that was the way he did things, then fair enough. But there was no way I was smearing myself with yak poo.

  About an hour later I began smearing myself with yak poo.

  It was stupidly cold, even huddled right beside the fire. Shivering became shaking – my teeth actually chattered, like in a cartoon. Finally, muttering and swearing, I dug handfuls of dung, stuffed it down my trousers and rubbed it into my skin. I shoved more up my sleeves and under my top, and lay back by the fire, cursing about how gross it was.

  Almost immediately the cold edged away, just a little, like I’d put on thermals. Through the flames I saw Tenzin watching me. His grin was ridiculously wide, even half-asleep.

  “Insulation,” he whispered.

  I woke.

  Something wasn’t right. I had that feeling again, that tingle.

  The darkness was absolute, so I didn’t know where to look, or the way to the cave entrance. Suddenly, two eyes glared at me from the ground – glowing and red, the eyes of a demon. I cried out, scrabbled back and then laughed.

  You idiot!

  It was just cinders in the fire, pulsing as a breeze rustled into the cave. The wind had died down, but it was so cold that the yak dung on my limbs had begun to freeze. As my eyes adjusted to the gloom I saw Tenzin fast asleep with that same faraway smile, as if this wild icebox was the best place he’d ever slept. I rubbed my eyes, struggling to wake.

  Maybe nothing was wrong. My nerves were shattered, that was all. I reached for my smart-goggles and the embers pulsed again.

  Behind me, something moved past the cave entrance.

  I scrambled around, staring. My heart was a boxing glove pounding at my chest. Was someone there?

  “Hello?” I croaked.

  Nothing. No sound, no movement.

  I waited, rigid with fear, watching the darkness beyond the cave. But still I saw nothing.

  I curled up again, groggily reminding myself that no one could know where we were, not even the best hunters in the business. Maybe it was the night playing tricks. Except… The invader in our camp, the creature on the rocks, the flitting shapes I’d spotted around the mountains. Could they all be tricks of my mind? Or was something else out there, something other than a hunter? The lama had warned us of the guardian of Kailas, which sensed when someone planned to climb the mountain. Surely Mum was right about that, though: it was all just mumbo jumbo.

  Wasn’t it?

  I regretted the yak poo insulation early the next day. It had dried overnight, and began to crumble beneath my clothes, so I spent the first few hours of the hike itching like crazy. I was finally able to wash it off when we came to a stream among some spindly silver birch trees that covered one side of a valley. We drank water too, and Tenzin foraged roots and leaves for breakfast.

  I still had that sense that something was following me, but again I forced the thought away. One problem at a time, as Mum always insisted. First I had to deal with my feet.

  Trying not to scream, I tugged off my boots and peeled my socks from a mess of blisters. My heel was one big blister, red and raw and weeping pus. On the other foot it was hard to count the blisters, which had congealed together across my toes. I did my best to clean them, but it was too painful and I vowed not to remove my boots again.

  “We can’t keep walking, Tenzin,” I grunted. “Is there anywhere we can steal a car?”

  “Steal?”

  “Borrow.”

  “Can you drive a car?”

  “Can’t you?”

  “Why should I be able to?”

  I shrugged; he just seemed resourceful like that.

  “There is a village,” he said, “close to here. They will give us help. Food, transport. Without stealing, Manchester United.”

  “Are you sure we can trust them?”

  “Sure.”

  So on we trudged, following the river along the valley, as the trees swayed and creaked, and the mountains closed in on either side. We climbed another hill. We hiked another valley. We scrambled to another pass.

  From the top we could see down into the next valley, and the village Tenzin had promised. It was just a few whitewashed houses, a dozen yaks grazing on scrub, and a beaten-up jeep – but to me it looked like heaven. There would be food, shelter from the cold at night, and…

  I stopped and stared.

  I’d been so busy fantasizing about the village that I’d only just noticed something beside me on the pass: a pile of rocks about the size of a dinner table. It looked like an altar. Scattered on its surface were bones. Lots of bones. I recognized a rib cage, a spine, and something that looked worryingly like a human skull…

  “What is that?” I asked.

  “Remains,” Tenzin said.

  “Remains of what?”

  “A man.”

  I stepped back and stumbled on rocks. “Human remains? But … why?”

  “This is how we do it, Manchester United. It is called sky burial. Once your soul is gone, your body is just meat. It is taken to a high place for vultures.”

  “That’s gross, Tenzin.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you get eaten by vultures.”

  “Not you. Your body. Once soul is gone, it is animal feed. I must pray here now, so be silent.”

  “It’s getting dark, Tenzin. We really need to get t
o that village, to see if they can help us.”

  “They will help, and I must pray.”

  “Maybe you can pray in the morning? Or pray double at the next sacred thing we pass? It’s not like you’re short of chances around here.”

  “No, I pray here.”

  “That’s crazy.”

  My voice was rising. I wasn’t angry, just frustrated. Everything was sacred here, everything had to be thanked for or prayed to, and it all took so long. We were out in the open, where any hunter might spot us.

  I grabbed Tenzin’s arm just as he was sitting down to pray by the altar. “We have to go now.”

  He shook me off, and from the anger that flashed in his eyes, I thought he might shove me. But he took a breath and sat back down by the altar.

  “I pray here,” he said.

  “But why?”

  “Because this is my uncle.”

  “Your… You mean, your uncle?”

  “Yes, my uncle.”

  “So … this is his village?”

  “Yes.”

  I stepped back, my cheeks burning with embarrassment. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know…”

  I wanted to apologize again, to tell him to take as long as he needed, but I didn’t need to; he would, anyway. I walked a little way down the slope and sat under some bushes. From there I could see down the hill to the village, although it took me about half an hour to realize what village this was. Tenzin had been certain that we would find help here, and it wasn’t just a coincidence that we had run across the remains of his uncle up on this hill. That village was his uncle’s home. But at that moment I realized something else.

  This was also, once, Tenzin’s home.

  29

  They recognized Tenzin from a mile away. Two girls, both a couple of years younger than him, charged out of one of the houses, screaming and shouting greetings.

  I thought Tenzin would be happy too – he was about almost everything else, after all – but as he smiled and hugged the girls, he looked awkward, out of place. I wondered if he still saw this village as home, or did it just remind him of how far he was from Yerpa Gompa, and how lost that place was to him now?