A Path of Death

Roopkund.

"The Majestic and extraordinary Himalayan Mountain Range spanning five countries and home to Mount Everest, the highest peak on Earth at over 29,000 feet! Still forming in a subduction zone, the Indian tectonic plate forces its way beneath the Eurasian plate toward certain destruction in the searing magma bubbling under our feet.

Today, our journey into these treacherous mountains begins here near this small village. Then, we will traverse rocky cliffs and dark forests to reach the Roopkund, a seemingly pristine, frozen pond at over 16,000 feet. Unbeknownst to us, the weary travelers, the lake hides a secret. Bodies. 800 skeletons, some with their skin still attached, preserved in the freezing high-altitude climate. In the warm months, the ice recedes, and their ghastly countenances are revealed!

They say-"

"Seriously, Tom, will you shut up?" Cathy says. Her lips are pursed. Her hair is in a ponytail, held by a scrunchy that constantly looks under stress, like it could break at any moment, resulting in an explosion of dark curls.

Tom looks at her like a puppy whose nose she smacked with a newspaper, "you don't want to hear about the legend of the first pilgrimage?

"No!"

"Not even about the Path of Death?"

"You need to stop," Cathy throws her pack on the hard ground, "look at this backpack. It's huge. My feet hurt, and you're driving me crazy. We have a long hike ahead of us. Can you talk about kittens or something?"

"I don't know anything about kittens," Tom pouts. Taking his skullcap off, he runs his hands through his auburn hair. It's cropped short after years of wheedling from his dad to get rid of his "hippy hair." He misses it now that the cold air nips at his earlobes.

"Oh! I know a lot about kittens!" Gerry chimes in.

"See," Cathy says, raising her eyebrows and gesturing to Gerry, "it's Gerry's turn to talk. Then, it's my turn. Then Emma and Julie. Got it? You be quiet for a while."

"I just thought you'd like to know the history of the place, Cathy. Excuse me!"

"We all read the pamphlet you made. I wanna hear about kittens for a while, okay?" Emma says. Her wide blue eyes are brimming with excitement. Strands of brown hair dangle near her eyes.

Gerry begins a lengthy, dramatic retelling of the Kittens Who Lost their Mittens as Emma and Cathy trudge along on either side of him. Tom hangs back, focusing on his boots. He wishes he hadn't bought new ones. He purchased himself top-of-line Columbia's, but he failed to break them in. Hidden under high-end leather, his feet bled.

He mumbles, "Julie's not even here; I should get her turn." The group ignores him.

***

Julie walks alone about a mile up ahead, within view of the snowy oak woodland, copied straight from a fairytale and pasted here. She ponders which fable the trees had emerged from. Inside, would she find a prince or an evil witch with a poisoned apple? Uncertain, she waits here for the others.

***

Gerry is silent now. His large feet thump against the dirt, his girth casts an enormous shadow. For every step he takes, Emma takes three as she trots along beside him. She grins at him now and then, but he's concentrating on his breathlessness and doesn't notice. Cathy is ahead of Tom, occasionally stopping to take a picture of the rugged landscape. Tom clears his throat.

"The Roopkund. A crystalline cemetery of the high-mountain, also known as Skeleton Lake. In 1942-"

Without turning around, Cathy hollers, "Tom, it's still Julie's turn."

"She's not even here right no-"

"I'm right here, Brad," says Julie, beaming. She's sitting on a boulder near the treeline, waving.

"I didn't see you. Why do you always call me by the wrong name?"

"I'm terrible with names, Lance. You know that!" She giggles. He shuffles his feet and rubs the back of his head. The grin he wears hurts his cheeks, and his face is burning.

"Middle schoolers!" Cathy huffs, making her way toward the oak trees.

"I'll have you know that I'm a grown man in my almost 30's!" Tom yells.

"Coulda fooled me, Jimmy!" Julie laughs and jogs to catch up with the other woman.

Tom watched as his friends disappear into the gathering mist. Usually thick-skinned, as he was used to their teasing, his heart sank when she left.

Unwilling, he begins to follow, letting the forest swallow him whole in the unsettled fog. It tickles his skin, penetrating multiple layers of outerwear. He shivers.

Music trills tauntingly just out of hearing. Cloying. Soft. Singing that whispers from a far-off place.

He whirls around, disturbing the thick haze, which swirls and dances. He hears steps in the bush, from all around him and nowhere all at once. It's behind him.

His ears ring in tune with the voice as it fills his head, his skull vibrating under his flesh. He screams, pressing his palms into either side of his face, and falls to his knees.

***

Julie glances back, her brow furrowed and her lips pressed together. Where's Tom? When they walked away, he always followed. So, where is he now? I hope I didn't hurt his feelings...

"He'll be fine, Julie," Cathy says, wrapping her arm around Julie's shoulders. "He knows the route better than any of us. I bet he's just miffed I called him a middle schooler."

"Yeah, I guess so. I shouldn't tease him so much."

Cathy poked her index finger into Julie's cheek, "you just think he's cute with all his nerdy facts and incessant chatting."

"Well, yeah, but I haven't told him, so maybe he's taking it the wrong way."

"Tell him when he comes back then." Cathy smiled.

They move in easy silence through the gloomy forest with Emma and Gerry close behind. Then, finally, they make a camp in a clearing, setting up two tents on damp and snowy leaves. They eat their dinner over a campfire and, at last, retreat to their sleeping bags to rest. Tom is still missing.

***

Julie is awake, listening to the wilds beyond her fabric dwelling. It's quiet. There's no sign of crickets or critters or feet skittering in the darkness.

She unzips the tent and peaks out into the wintry night. Her eyes don't adjust. The night gives nothing away. A glacial finger caresses her cheek, and she startles. A hand grips the back of her neck, pulling her from the comfort of her flimsy shelter; she struggles against it, but the strong arms of her captor enfold her.

Frozen lips kiss her. The man's fingers dig into her arms. He stops and looks down on her, cold eyes shining.

"Tom?" She asks.

"Sorry I didn't tell you before," he says.

"What's going on? Where were you?" He's pale. He's not wearing his coats, and his feet are bare. His hold on her is too tight.

He sways then. "I found a place." His voice is low, "come with me."

"It's below zero, Tom. Can you show me tomorrow? But, first, we need to get you warm!"

He shakes his head, a slow, exaggerated movement from side to side. He takes her by the hand and leads her away. She scratches at his fingers, but he doesn't let go. The ice at her feet burns, and her muscles feel stiff. In the distance, a song echoes on the cliffside.

***

It's been three days since Emma last saw Tom and Julie. She's holding Gerry's wrist, leaning on him like a child. Cathy huddles in close to her on the left. Since the others disappeared, the mountain feels hostile. The branches loom over the hikers, and the ground rumbles.

They searched for the first two days. First, back the way they came and then in the direction of their destination. They gave up. Now, they lumber up the steep slope, gaining elevation. Emma's thighs ache, and her legs wobble. She didn't train for this, assuming she'd excel, like always.

She was the captain of the baseball team in high school and rode an athletic scholarship through college. She's fit, but high-altitude climbing is a different beast. Her throat is scratchy and irritated, and her head swims.

She's stumbling and clinging to Gerry when he pushes her away. Her knees crack as she hits the ground. His face is filled with malice, and he hulks over her figure. Cathy runs to her, wrapping a protective arm around her shoulders.

"Gerry, what are you doing!?" Cathy yells.

"Just stay away from me!" He stalks up the path. As he goes, he knocks his fists against his ears, grunting and growling.

The women stay where they are, surrounded by wildflowers. Emma wails as Cathy strokes her hair. Himalayan peaks, capped with snow, jut into the sky to the north.

Emma sleeps there, calmed by the lullaby of the mountain.

***

On the ridgeline, they pass an ancient shrine of stacked stone adorned with bells. Nestled at the center is a statue of Ganesha, the elephant deity. Cathy thinks fondly of the lecture Tom would give at this juncture. She could hear his voice rising and falling theatrically as he told the tale of the God of Beginnings.

She touches the statue, a tear on her cheek, and wonders out loud, "why don't we turn around?"

Emma was sitting on the rubble with her head in her hands. She's rocky back and forth. Cathy sighs and goes to the other woman. Emma's humming now, a discordant tune Cathy doesn't recognize.

"Emma, we should go home." Emma's screaming now, to the same melody, her voice raw and cracking. She stands then, her cheeks ruddy and mouth twisted. She runs and falls. Howling, she's on her feet, sprinting once again. Cathy follows, frantic and horrified.

Out of breath, dizzy, and lost, Cathy stops. "It must be altitude sickness. I need to get them off the mountain. What was I thinking staying so long?"

Muttering to herself, she makes her way through the scree and to the valley, where an emerald lake sits, a jewel shimmering in dreary ice and rock. A cacophony resonates from below, making Cathy's stomach churn. She can see Emma dancing.

Nearing the lake, she sees the bodies. Eight hundred people died here, hundreds of years apart. Some from far-off lands, a fact archeologists had difficulty explaining.

"What happened to you?" Cathy asked, a skull covered in grime.

Cathy gasps. She sees them now, huddled in the circle of cairns as Emma twirls around them: Julie, Gerry, and Tom. Tom's neck is bent at an unnatural angle; his head lies in Julie's lap. Julie gazes into the distance with blank, unblinking eyes. Gerry convulses, his jaw tense.

The ground at Emma's feet ruptures, the crevice widening as she spins, face turned upward to the clouds. Then, without a sound, she's swallowed by the Earth.

Cathy's shaking. She runs to Gerry. She doesn't dare move him, but he's all that's left. A hailstone, the size of a golf ball, hits her shoulder with a sickening crack. She moans. Thunder crashed, and hail clattered, battering Gerry and Cathy.

They lie now at the bottom of the Roopkund, forever at rest in Skeleton Lake.