In fact, he could barely hear at all. An incredible roar of rushing water echoed in the canyon and reverberated inside his head. The path was enclosed in a heavy mist.
Maybe the nuns were right about Purgatory, Neal thought.
“Thundering Terrace!” Li yelled. “The dragon and the thunder live below!”
Neal nodded.
“You are in pain?”
Neal rolled his eyes and nodded.
“There are caves just up the path! We will rest!”
She helped Neal to his feet. He staggered behind her, out of the mist and onto a broader terrace, behind which a cave burrowed into the cliff. She helped him to sit down. Even seated, they could now see the path below them. They could see the roofs of several monasteries, the trail below, the torturous stairs. They could see three figures climbing the trail near where Neal had fallen the day before.
“They have followed you,” Li said. She sounded devastated.
“I’m afraid so.”
“You should have let me go at Leshan.”
“You’d be dead if I had.”
“It would still be better.”
They sat quietly for a moment.
“Two Chinese and one American.”
“How can you tell?”
“By the way they walk.”
She stood up. “The resting is finished.”
He struggled to his feet. “We can still make it, can’t we? Get to Pendleton in time to hide? To keep running?”
She stood for a moment, calculating. “Perhaps. Perhaps. There is left the Eighty-four Switchbacks, the Elephants’s Saddle, and the Buddha’s Ladder. Perhaps three hours.”
“We can make it.”
“We can at least warn Father.”
It doesn’t sound good, Neal thought. The Saddle sounded easy, but the Eighty-four Switchbacks? A ladder? Their pursuers were maybe three hours behind. Maybe. But they were gaining.
“You’d better go ahead,” he said.
“They will kill you.”
“Nah, they’ll just criticize me severely. I can take it.”
“They will kill you. Come.”
She started out, and he fell in behind her. Five minutes’ walk along the shelf took them to the first switchback. He looked up and saw what looked like an endless series of stone fire escapes zigzagging up the precipice. The first few switchbacks were fairly easy, but grew steeper as they worked higher up the mountain. About ten switchbacks in, the grade became almost as tough as Three Look Staircase, and Neal found his knees brushing his chest as he ascended the steps.
The sight of their hunters gave him a good shot of adrenaline, which lasted for a good forty switchbacks. After it had worn off, Neal had to search for a motivator. Fear didn’t do it, neither did anger. Duty gave him five switchbacks, loyalty another seven, love another twelve. Contempt only got him one, pride less than one-half, a reprise of loyalty got him over the next difficult two, guilt took him for three, and then he dropped.
“Fourteen more and then level!” Li Lan shouted down from the switchback above.
Neal lay in a fetal position on the steps. Fourteen? I don’t have fourteen more steps. I have nothing left.
“Go ahead!”
From the corner of his eye he saw her stand for a moment, and then begin a slow trudge away. She’s beat too, he thought. Christ, I’ve lost everything.
And when you’ve lost everything, you have nothing left to lose. Clever boy. He pushed himself up with his hands and stood on unsteady feet. I’ve lost everything, so what the hell? When you’ve lost everything, there’s nothing left to do but keep going.
Come on, one foot in front of the other. Just one, and then just one more. Just one and then one more. Just one. Yi. Yi. Yi. Yi. Fuck the mountain. Fuck Mr. Peng. Fuck Simms. Fuck Friends of the Fucking Family. Step. Step. Fuck my whole stupid, useless life. Step. Step. Yi. Yi. Yi. Yi. Look behind you. The bastards are gaining. Really stepping out. Well, boys, wait until you hit old Three Look Staircase. Wait till you come up the greatly beloved Eighty-four Switchbacks. We’ll see how chipper you are when you step over my dead body.
This huge guy comes into a bar, see, and asks, “Which one of you bastards is O‘Reilly?” Step. Step. And this skinny guy sitting at the bar raises his hand and says, “I’m O‘Reilly.” Step. And the big guy grabs him by the neck, turns him around, punches him three times in the face, step, slams him to the floor, step, kicks him in the groin, picks him up, step, step, hits him in the stomach, throws him down again, step, step, step, kicks him in the balls, stomps on his face, step, step, step… step, step… and storms out of the bar. Step. Step. Step. Then the skinny guys sits up, step, starts to laugh, step, step, step, and says, step, “Boy, did I put one over on him!” Step, step, step.
“I’m not O’Reilly!”
Step, step, step.
Boy, am I putting one over on them.
Step.
Simms spotted them first, but then again he was looking the hardest, and they were outlined pretty clearly against the cliff face. One of them looks hurt, Simms thought. The other is dog-tired.
He nudged Peng and pointed. “There are your puppies!”
Peng was bathed in sweat. Three Look Staircase was worth more than three looks.
“Will we catch up with them?”
“If you can shake your ass!”
“Remember, I want her and Pendleton alive!”
Maybe you do, Simms thought. But I don’t want to take the chance of one of them being part of a spy swap some day and telling all kinds of stories in the debrief.
“Remember,” Peng said. “They are evidence!”
Corpses are evidence, too, Simms thought.
“Let’s worry about that when we catch them, all right?”
Simms saw that this fired up Old Peng and made him waddle a little faster. The kid behind them was fading.
It doesn’t matter, Simms thought. As long as I don’t fade. And I don’t have to catch them, I just have to get in range. The bullets will catch them.
Neal lay down at the top of the eighty-fourth switchback. The path in front of him was fairly level, just a mild grade across a bottomless chasm. Li was laying down also-on her back, rhythmically slowing her breathing, getting ready for the next phase.
“I’ve lost sight of them,” Neal gasped.
“That is bad. It means they are closer. We cannot see them because of the angle.”
“I’ll bet the resting is finished.”
She stood up. “We are on the Elephant’s Saddle. If we cross quickly, we can reach the summit ahead of them. I think, perhaps, in time.”
Neal knew a cue when he heard one, and forced himself up. He indulged in a look over the edge of the trail. It was a mistake. You wouldn’t want to go off either side without a parachute. You wouldn’t want to go off either side with a parachute.
“Is this the time to tell you that I’m afraid of heights?” Neal asked.
“No,” she said as she stepped out.
No sense of humor, Neal thought. Maybe I should try the O‘Reilly joke on her. He picked his way carefully along the dirt trail. Bits of shale slid out from under his foot and rattled off the edge. Neal resisted the temptation to watch them fall into eternity. His rib cage felt as if Reggie Jackson had used it for batting practice. His legs quivered and his ankles shook. He didn’t even want to check in with his feet. He heard noise and looked up to see Li Lan break into a trot ahead of him.
He limped along the path.
Xao’s driver handed his field glasses to his boss.
“They are on the Saddle,” he said.
Xao looked through the glasses. He could make out the figure of Li Lan, strong but tired, jogging up the slope. Carey seemed to be limping far behind her.
“He is injured, I think,” Xao observed.
“Or merely unfit,” the driver answered.
Xao handed back the glasses.
“What about Peng? Can you see him?”
“I lost them when they entered the Thundering Terrace. They must be well up the switchbacks now.”