Sky Burial

by Brian Haycock

The storm blew in over the ridge with no warning. One minute there had been a blue sky and a sun so bright it hurt even with deep-tinted goggles. Then it all went to hell. The world turned slate gray and dark, with needles of snow blowing horizontally on a vicious wind that scoured the cliff face.

Grimes pressed himself into the rock. He looked up at Knudson and the sherpa, Norbu. They were moving more quickly now, jamming the pitons into the cracks and setting the ropes as if their lives depended on it. Grimes knew that wasn't far from the truth. In a storm like this, they needed to find a ledge where they could pitch a tent, and they needed to find it soon. It was already twenty degrees colder, and it would only go down from there.

Below was Elkin. He wasn't much of a climber. He could pull himself up with the ropes, but on a sheer face like this he'd be helpless without the others. In these conditions he was just dead weight on the end of the lines. But he was paying for the expedition - an illegal month-long expedition into the peaks of Tibet capped by a climb of Gamba-Lin. Grimes climbed another ten feet and looked up. Knudson and Norbu were gone. He felt a moment of panic before he realized they must have found a ledge and climbed onto it. That meant he had only a short climb ahead. He focused on the route, pulling himself up on the ropes, taking it one foot at a time.

In minutes he reached the ledge and pulled himself up onto the flat surface. He unclipped from the lines and lay there for a moment, catching his breath. Then he looked around. The ledge was ten feet deep, a flat open crack littered with fallen rocks that spanned the cliff as far as he could see. The wind was sweeping the snow along its length.

Knudson and Norbu were pressed into a depression in the sheer rock wall behind him. Grimes crawled back to them, pulled off his pack and harness, and stood. "Nice weather," he said. "Great day for a hike." Knudson said, "How's Elkin doing?"

"He's struggling, but he'll be all right. He could lose twenty pounds." Knudson was less sympathetic toward Elkin than Grimes was. He didn't say much about it when Elkin was around, though.

"He'll lose some up here."

"We'll give him a few minutes, then pull him up if we have to. If he can't make this, though, he can't make the summit." Grimes crouched and crawled over to the edge. He looked over. Elkin was ten feet below. From his movements it was clear that he was exhausted. He would need a long rest when he made the ledge. "Almost there," he called out. "Just keep moving." Elkin might have nodded, but he couldn't be sure.

Grimes crawled back and started working on his pack. "We'll need to pitch the tent," he said. "We could be out here for hours." Knudson kneeled next to him and pulled a handful of cams from his pack and started jamming them into cracks in the rock. Out here, the tent would be more like a body bag with a little structure, but it would shed the wind and hold a little heat. Grimes pulled the tent from its sack and knelt on it as he waited for Knudson to help. He looked over his shoulder and saw a flash of red. That would be Elkin, making it to the ledge at last.

Grimes grabbed a corner of the tent and they began unfolding it. Then suddenly the tent was gone. The wind had pulled it from their fingers. They watched it unfold in the wind like an orange flag, then disappear in the haze of blowing snow.

"What the hell happened?"

"I thought you had it."

"So did I. I thought we both had it. We should have hooked it to the cams, first thing. Damn. Now what?"

Grimes scanned the ledge. "We find some shelter from the wind and hope this blows over fast. Then we go down. We can't make the summit today and we can't make it up here overnight without a tent."

"We could make the summit today without Elkin."

"It's his show. We can't just leave him."

Elkin rolled over onto the ledge and laid out on the rock. The only part of him that was moving was his chest, and that was pumping hard. Grimes stood and worked his way over to Norbu, who was pressing himself into the rock wall. "We lost the tent," he said.

"I saw."

"We'll have to get out of the wind. What do you think?"

"Two choices. We can go left or right," the sherpa said. He nodded to his left. "I think that way. The cliff looks more uneven, more broken-up. There could be some openings. And the wind is blowing in that direction."

Grimes could feel himself tightening up from the cold. They had to start moving.

Elkin had rolled over and he was trying to get to his feet. He looked like he could go a little way if he had some help, though not far. "Let's go," Grimes said.

They started moving down the ledge. Grimes and Norbu were leading, with Knudson helping Elkin along. After fifty feet the ledge widened into a large platform, but the cliff wall was straight and unbroken. The wind was even stronger there. They pressed on. The ledge narrowed again. There were cracks in the face, but none large enough to squeeze into.

Norbu stopped at a flat section of cliff. He moved his hand across the surface. "There is something wrong here. This is too smooth. Too flat."

He moved a few more feet. There was a section of rock chipped away. Underneath was a pattern of stone blocks. Norbu kept studying the wall. Then he stopped and ran his hand along a straight vertical line.

"Lung gom pa," he said. Then he stepped back.

Grimes stepped up and studied the line in the rock. Using his ice axe, he scraped away at the ice that covered most of it. There was a straight seam in the rock. It ended below eye level and became a horizontal seam. Where that ended there was another vertical seam.

There was a door in the cliff. A small door, a few feet high.

"We have to go on," Norbu said.

"What is this, Norbu? Is this really a door?"

"It is the home of a lung gom pa. A lone monk who has come here to seek enlightenment by closing himself off from the world. He spends all his days and nights in deep meditation. He lives in silent darkness, free of all distraction. A lung gom pa is a sacred being in Tibet, a monk so intent on enlightenment he gives up everything for it. He is revered as Lord Buddha himself."

Grimes kept working on the seam. "It doesn't look like there's anyone home."

"We cannot disturb the lung gom pa. It is forbidden."

"Norbu, this cave, or whatever it is, is abandoned. There hasn't been anyone here in years."

"You are right. When the Chinese invaded, they destroyed the temples and slaughtered the monks who cared for the lung gom pas. There would have been a hut nearby where trance walkers would have lived. They are truly spirits, not of this world. They live in the high country. They would have carried food from the monastery below for the lung gom pas. There will be an small opening under the door. They would slide a plate of food in through that and remove the empty plate. With the monastery destroyed, there would have been no food. The lung gom pas would have starved."

"So there may be a body inside. That's all right. There'll be bodies out here if we don't find shelter." He kept working at the door. "Tradition says the lung gom pa lives forever in his cave, even after his body has turned to dust. We should keep moving. There will be shelter ahead. I am sure."

"Well, I'm not sure. And I don't think Elkin is going to go much farther." Knudson reached them. Elkin was twenty feet behind him, on his knees, gasping for air. "He's had it," Knudson said. "We can waste all the oxygen on him, but it won't matter. He can't keep going. Even without the storm, he'd be finished. We either find shelter or we throw him over the side." Grimes thought he was kidding about that, but it was hard to be sure.

Grimes told Knudson about the door and the cave behind it. Knudson had his ice axe out before Grimes had finished. He started in on another section of the seam. With two of them working, they began to make real progress. The seam had been sealed with a grainy cement that chipped away easily. They wedged pitons into the seam and hammered them with their axes to break the seals.

Norbu hung back, watching.

Once the seals were broken they started trying to work the door out of its rock frame. That was as hard as breaking the seals. The door was a single slab of rock with no handles, nothing to grasp. They had to pry it out with the pitons. Grimes could feel his hands seizing up inside the gloves; the cold was seeping into everything now. Finally the door shifted and moved a fraction of an inch forward. Then it was easier. They worked at it until it fell forward onto the ledge.

They pushed the packs in first, then they dragged Elkin over by the shoulders and stuffed him in. As Knudson was crawling through the opening, Grimes asked Norbu, "You coming?"

He shook his head. "I cannot. I will move down the ledge and find shelter. I will be all right. Good luck. May Lord Buddha protect you."

Grimes thought Norbu would need the protection, but he nodded and turned to crawl into the opening.

It was dark inside. When he moved away from the opening a little light came through, but not enough to see by. Knudson was working on the packs, looking for the emergency heater. It wouldn't do much, but they would be able to warm their hands. Once they were in their sleeping bags they'd warm right up. He pulled out the kerosene stove. They could use that to make tea. Grimes tried to remember what else was in the packs. Not much. Oxygen, climbing gear, spare gloves, a little food. No flashlights. They were packed for climbing, not camping.

Knudson had the heater out. He turned the knob and the propane lit, and in seconds the filament started to glow. The cave filled with a dim orange light. They stripped off their gloves and held their hands over the heater. Then they slid the heater across the rough floor and worked on Elkin's hands. Elkin was half-conscious, mumbling and gasping for air. Knudson pulled out one of the oxygen tanks and gave him a little jolt. Elkin's eyes fluttered and his breathing slowed a little.

Knudson asked Grimes, "You want some?"

"No, save it for later. You know we're not going to make the summit."

"I don't know. Elkin isn't going to, but if the storm clears soon we still have a shot. We get a good rest here, then keep climbing. We make the summit, then come down fast and stay here overnight. It could work out. Without Elkin we can move pretty fast."

"And if there's another storm? They usually come up in late afternoon. This one's early."

"Well, then we're screwed. If we wanted to be safe we should have taken up golf."

Their eyes were adjusting to the dim light in the cave. For the first time, Grimes looked around him. The cave was small, about fifteen feet long, square with block walls and a deep opening in the rock at the back. There was an altar on one wall with a stone statue of the Buddha and a cup next to it. Grimes shifted and looked behind him.

There was a man seated there.

Knudson said, "Jesus freaking Christ." Grimes stared at the man for a moment. He told himself it must be a statue. Maybe weathered wood. But it wasn't a statue. No one carved statues that looked like that. It was a man seated cross-legged on a small stone bench. His spine was straight, his hands were entwined over his stomach, and his legs were folded tightly in front of him. His eyes were dark shadows under his brows. There were rags hanging from his shoulders and bunched on his legs. The skin of his face was stretched over the bones, but it was smooth and clear.

He was smiling.

Lung gom pa, he thought. It had to be.

"Damn," Knudson said. "Norbu wasn't kidding. Man, fifty years he's been sitting just like that. He looks pretty good. You know, for being dead and all." He laughed, but he sounded a little nervous. "No bacteria up here to decompose the corpse," Grimes said. "That's not surprising, I guess. The thing is, he must have died like that, in his meditation posture. He must have starved. Or maybe frozen, I don't know. But to stay in that posture, that's something. Most people would have weakened, wound up curled up in a corner, thinking only of food. Maybe he overcame all his attachments, even to food. Maybe the cold couldn't touch him."

"Man, you're almost as nuts as he is. Was. Whatever. I say he got flash frozen, just like that."

Elkin tried to sit up. He didn't quite make it. He shuddered and settled back against the rock wall.

Knudson pulled his sleeping bag out of its sack and laid it out on the floor. He rolled Elkin's sack to Grimes. "You do it," he said. "I'm fed up."

As he opened the other two sleeping bags, Grimes kept looking back at the figure on the bench. It was like a fourth person in the cave. He half-expected it to start speaking. He rolled Elkin into his sleeping bag and sat against the wall with his own gathered around him, feeling the warmth creep in. He stared at the lung gom pa - man who'd given up all contact with the world to shut himself in the darkness in hopes of a realization he could never share. Grimes wondered what his life had been like.

He stared at the hands of the lung gom pa. They looked different, as if they had moved without his noticing. Now they were steepled, pointing at the roof of the cave. Grimes blinked. They must have been that way all along.

A rag fell from the lung gom pa's shoulder. Grimes gave a little jump. The wind, he thought. The air was moving in the cave for the first time in fifty years. Of course it would disturb the rags that still clung to its shoulders. It was easier for him to think of the figure as a thing, not a person. When he thought of it as a "he" a little shiver ran through him. It was only the remains of the monk who'd died here. Nothing more.

"We should call him Lungo," Knudson said. "You know, give him a nickname."

"I'm not sure it needs a nickname. It's just a bag of bones, you know. I wonder, though, if he found what he was looking for. You know, did he have some great flash of understanding just as he died? Did it all make sense to him at the end?"

"You're still on that? He probably realized he was freezing to death and he wished he'd gone into another line of work. He could have been a yak herder."

"Sure. That sounds like fun." Grimes looked over his shoulder at the opening. It was still blowing snow outside. Elkin was unconscious, trying to snore. "Kiss the summit goodbye."

"You're probably right. We could go down to camp when it clears, try again in a day or two. Without Elkin. I don't think he's going to recover from this in time for another try."

"No, this was his only shot."

Grimes stared at the lung gom pa. "Does he look different to you? You know, his skin? It's not as stretched out as it was. You know what I mean?"

"It's probably the air. Maybe it's a little more humid. Or less humid, or something. It might be the heat."

"Sure, that must be it. Although it gets pretty warm up here when the weather's good. It's probably the light. Our eyes are getting used to the darkness in here. I didn't even see him when we came in."

Then the lung gom pa moved. Its hands parted and it seemed to draw a great, deep breath. Grimes and Knudson stared. "It's the altitude," Knudson said. "It's making us crazy."

"At the same time?"

The lung gom pa was sitting now with its hands held open, palms facing upward, fingers curled slightly. Its lips began to move as if chanting its ancient mantra. Grimes and Knudson stared as one of its feet slid off the opposing thigh where it had been resting. Then the other foot slid down as well.

"The body's just settling. That must be it. It's being disturbed for the first time, and it's settling."

"Hey, Lungo. Why don't you get up and do a little dance for us? A little jig for the visitors." Knudson gave a nervous laugh.

It was as if the lung gom pa had heard Knudson. It leaned forward in a deep bow, then began to rise gracefully in the stale air. Its legs seemed to unfold as they lifted the body above them. The last rags fell away and it stood naked in the cave. It looked truly alive now, thin but strong. Its skin seemed to shine, rippling over the muscle and bone. Only its eyes betrayed the illusion. They were empty, as if they were staring inward. It took another breath, deeper this time, and its smile grew wider.

"It's alive," Grimes said to himself. Then he thought, no, he's alive. The lung gom pa took a slow step. His legs, held in a knot for so long, seemed loose and agile. He took another slow step. He moved like smoke, like air.

Grimes was torn between fear and amazement at what was occurring before him. Knudson wasn't torn at all. He was terrified. He stood and backed toward the opening, holding the ice axe before him. His hands were shaking, his face a mask of terror. He stood in front of the lung gom pa for a moment, defiant. Then the last of his resolve melted away and he dropped the axe and scrambled for the opening. He slammed his head into the top of the opening and kept going. His feet kicked at the rock as he fought his way through. In seconds he was gone. Grimes wanted to follow, but the lung gom pa was moving that way. Grimes pressed against the rock wall and watched as the figure floated on light feet toward the door, where he leaned down gracefully and seemed to flow into the opening. Then he was gone.

Grimes got his gloves back on, pulled his ski mask down and his scarves up to cover his face. He crawled past Elkin, who had slept through it all. He worked his way out the opening into the blowing snow and stood against the cliff wall.

The lung gom pa was standing in front of him, moving slowly across the ledge. He was holding his arms up to the sky. He looked like he was praying, or sending out a greeting to the world he had abandoned so long ago. Knudson was between the lung gom pa and the edge. He was backing away, too close to the abyss, not looking at the footing. He was staring at the lung gom pa with terror in his eyes. He held his hands out for protection, but the real danger was behind him. Grimes tried to call out to him, but his voice was swallowed by the roar of the wind. The wind was pushing Knudson backward, toward the edge.

He took another step.

Knudson was gone.

The lung gom pa, unaware of Knudsonís fall, moved his hands in a pantomime and then opened them wide to the sky. The storm lifted. The sun beamed down as the last of the snow fell onto the ledge in fat flakes. Before them was a landscape of jagged, snowcapped peaks bathed in orange sun and blue ice. The mountains seemed to reflect the sky and the sky reflected the mountains. Ice rainbows floated in the air. Grimes stared out at the scene, overcome. Then he looked at the lung gom pa. The lama bowed to the spectacle.

A deep bow, with his hands folded in front of him.

He's free now, Grimes thought. After all this time.

The lung gom pa stood again and vanished. His body dissolved into flecks of dust that blew off across the canyon on the wind. Grimes was alone on the ledge. He stood and stared as the scene before him shifted slightly. Now he saw only mountains and sky. Breathtaking, but no different from the mountains and sky he'd always seen. He took a deep breath, pulling in as much of the thin air as he could. The mountains and sky were enough.

He stood there in the sunshine for a few minutes, taking it in. Then Norbu came up beside him. "Is everything all right?" he asked.

"Yes, everything is perfect." Then he remembered. "Except - no. It isn't. Knudson is gone. He fell."

"You should put on your goggles. The sun is very strong now."

"I will. I just want a few more minutes with these mountains. Just the way they are. Then we'll go down."

---

©Brian Haycock

Brian Haycock lives in Austin, Texas, where he has worked mainly for nonprofit organizations. He enjoys running (especially in the summer heat), hiking, and reading stories of all kinds. His stories have appeared in Thuglit, Nefarious,Yellow Mama, Crime and Suspense, Grim Graffiti, Reflection's Edge, The Cynic, Pulp Pusher, and Blazing Adventures. He knows better than to wake the dead.