Free Iced!: The 2007 Journal of Nick Fitzmorgan by Bill Doyle Page B

know exactly where you are, and I’m sending assistance. Go back to Camp
     2 and wait there. Did you hear me, Nick?”
    “Yes, Judge,” I said, “but—”
    “Nick? Did you hear me?” her words were almost drowned by static. “Nick, if—”
    And then her voice was gone. I looked down at Maura’s satellite phone. There was no signal.
    I gave the phone back to Maura and told her and Jiban what Judge had said. “She wants us to go back to Camp 2 She says help
     is on the was.”

    A STORM WAS COMING!
    “All right,” Jiban said, looking up at the sky. “I cannot argue with that. The storm I feared is now most certainly on its
     way. We must be very careful.”
    And he was right.
    About five minutes later, as we were heading back down to Camp 2, the storm hit. It was almost like I had blinked and, suddenly,
     we were in the middle of a blizzard. I imagined that this was what it must be like to be lost in thick, dark smoke. At its
     thickest, I couldn’t see more than a few inches in any direction.
    Somehow, I got spun around, and the rope that connected us wrapped itself around my shins. I couldn’t walk. And yet Jiban
     was still pulling on the line.
    I unclipped myself from the rope for a second so that I could untangle myself—and then I fell.
    The rope slithered out of my hands.
    I called out, but I could barely hear my own voice.
    I tried to retrace my steps but realized they were already covered in snow.
    The wind screamed around me, and the snow felt like carpenter’s nails on the part of my face that wasn’t protected by my goggles
     or oxygen mask. There hadn’t been time to put on my ski mask.
    I was in serious trouble.
    Find shelter! I screamed at myself.
    But where?
    There! There was a rock face that might protect me. I walked over to it—and through it. It hadn’t been a rock face, after
     all, but an illusion created by the blowing snow.
    I turned to go back and fell again.
    This time, I skittered down the icy slope directly toward the edge of a cliff. I felt my oxygen mask tear off my face, and
     it was gone.
    I tried everything, but I couldn’t slow myself down—I was going to plummet over the side. And that would mean certain death—
    My feet shot over the edge—
    And a hand reached out of nowhere and grabbed my arm. I had been moving with such speed that my body swung out and back onto
     the cliff.
    I looked up at my savior.
    I expected to see Jiban or Maura ….
    But it was a man wearing a bright red down jacket and matching red snow pants. His face was nearly hidden under the red cap
     and snow goggles he wore. But in an instant, I recognized him anyway.
    It was my godfather! It was Uncle Benny!

    I COULDN’T BELIEVE UNCLE BENNY WAS HERE!

June 9, 2007
3:50 PM
    In my shock, I decided the hypoxia must be back and stronger than before.
    What was Uncle Benny doing here on top of Mount Everest? Who would I see next? My third-grade teacher strolling down the mountainside?
    I rubbed my eyes, trying to see if the vision would clear.
    Uncle Benny let out a loud laugh. “Kid, you’re not dreaming!” he shouted over the howling wind. “It’s me standing with you
     here at the top of the world.”
    I glanced quickly around. More like dangling from the top of the world. We were on a narrow ledge that was covered with ice.
     On one side, just behind me, was the cliff that had almost taken my life. On the other side, a rock outcropping about the
     size of a minivan jutted into the air behind Uncle Benny.
    I gaped at him. “Uncle Benny?”
    “In the flesh,” he bellowed. “What the heck are you doing up here, kid?”
    “I’m so glad to see you!” I cried. “I’m looking for Dad. Did he come to Everest with you?”
    Uncle Benny nodded and said more quietly, “Yes.”
    “Where is he?” I demanded.
    “Your dad wanted to come here to research his script.” Uncle Benny crouched down so he was closer to me. “I came along to
     help. He figured you wouldn’t be home for another week or