Free Escape from Kathmandu by Kim Stanley Robinson

is.”
    “That’s usually the heart of the problem,” I said, with feeling.
    Freds cut through the debate: “I say we should get him stoned before the flight. Get a hash pipe going good and just get him
wasted
.”
    “You’re crazy!” Nathan said. “That’d just freak him out more!”
    “Nah.”
    “He wouldn’t know what to make of it,” Sarah said.
    “Oh yeah?” Freds propped himself up on one arm. “You really think those yetis have lived all this time up there among all those pot plants, and haven’t figured them out? No way! In fact that’s probably why no one ever sees them! Man, the pot plants up there are as big as
pine trees
. They probably use the buds for food.”
    Nathan and Sarah doubted that, and they further doubted that we should do any experimenting about it at such a crucial time.
    “You got any hash?” I asked Freds with interest.
    “Nope. Before this Ama Dablam climb came through I was going to fly to Malaysia to join a jungle mountain expedition that Doug Scott put together, you know? So I got rid of it all. I mean, do you fly drugs into Malaysia is not one of the harder questions on the IQ test, you know? In fact I had too much to smoke in the time I had left, and when I was hiking down from Namche to Lukla I was loading my pipe and dropped this chunk on the ground, a really monster chunk, about ten grams.
And I just left it there!
Just left it lying on the ground! I’ve always wanted to do that.
    “Anyway, I’m out. I could fix that in about fifteen minutes down on the street if you want me to, though—”
    “No, no. That’s okay.” I could already hear the steady breathing of Buddha, fast asleep above me. “He’ll be more relaxed than any of us tomorrow.” And that was true.

XIV
    We got up before dawn, and Freds dressed in the clothes that Buddha had worn the day before. We pasted some swatches of Buddha’s back fur onto Freds’s face to serve as a beard. We even had some of the russet fur taped to the inside of the Dodgers cap, so it hung down behind. With mittens on, and a big pair of snow boots, he was covered; slip the shades onto his nose and he looked at least as weird as Buddha had in the Sheraton. Freds walked around the room a bit, trying it out. Buddha watched him with that surprised look, and it cracked Freds up. “I look like your long-lost brother, hey Buddha?”
    Nathan collapsed on the bed despondently. “This just isn’t going to work.”
    “That’s what you said last time,” I objected.
    “Exactly! And look what happened! You call that
working?
Are you telling me that things
worked
yesterday?”
    “Well, it depends on what you mean when you say
worked
. I mean here we are, right?” I began packing my gear. “Relax, Nathan.” I put a hand on his shoulder, and Sarah put both her hands on his other shoulder. He bucked up a bit, and I smiled at Sarah. That woman was tough; she had saved our ass at the Sheraton, and she kept her nerve well during the waiting, too. I wouldn’t have minded asking her on a long trek into the Himal myself, really, and she saw that and gave me a brief smile of appreciation that also said, no chance. Besides, double-crossing old Nathan would have been like the Dodgers giving away Steve Garvey. People like that you can’t double-cross, not if you want to look yourself in the mirror.
    Freds finished getting pointers in carriage from Buddha, and he and I walked out of the room. Freds stopped and looked back inside mournfully, and I tugged him along, irritated at the Method acting; we wouldn’t be visible to anyone outside the Star until we got downstairs.
    But I must say that overall Freds did an amazing job. He hadn’t seen all that much of Buddha, and yet when he walked across that courtyard and into the street, he caught the yeti’s gait exactly: a bit stiff-hipped and bowlegged, a rolling sailor’s walk from which he could drop to all fours instantly, or so it seemed. I could hardly believe it.
    The streets were