Free The Seeker by Karan Bajaj

and the articles he had read had said that it would take three to four hours for a reasonably fit person and Max hadn’t missed a beat in the three hours he had been hiking. Yet there was no sign of the guesthouse or of anything human, just snow, rocks, and bare trees. His heart fluttered a little. Come on, he knew the way of the mountains well, didn’t he? Everything was hidden from view until it wasn’t. The guesthouse was just around the corner. A turn here, a climb there, and he’d be facing it.
    The snowfall became heavier. Small, blue hailstones, sharp as bullets, struck his face. Max put his hands over his eyes and took shelter under a rock jutting out from the cliff. The sky turned darker. He switched on his headlamp in proximity mode to save battery life and wore the last of his layers, his hard shell jacket and hand warmers. If it got any colder, he could be in trouble. But he wouldn’t panic yet. He’d be at the warm guesthouse soon. The rock above him trembled. Max walked out into the snowfall with his hands on his cheeks.
    It was 4 p.m. By now, he should have been there. He checked his compass for the hundredth time. Yes, he was still steering northwest. Had he missed a turn when the sun disappeared? Should he retrace his steps? He kept moving forward. The hail rained on his face, scraping his cheeks like a razor blade. The wind screamed. His knee began to pain lightly. The lingering running injury was back. Max’s heart beat nervously. If he got lost, he could wander forever. No one in New York knew he was in the Himalayas and Omkara and Shiva didn’t know if he was coming back in twelve hours or twelve years. Max breathed deeply. He couldn’t think like a loser. He was a survivor, a marathoner, a mountain climber; any moment now he’d find his way.
    He climbed higher. The hail stung the inside of his lips. A strong gale knocked him to his knees. He tried to get up. No, the wind was too strong. Flattening himself against the cliff, he picked himself up slowly. The ice seeped in through his mittens. Worried about frostbite, he let go of the rock. Immediately, he lost his balance and fell on the packed snow again.
Relax.
He got up, slower this time, more focused, touching the jagged edges of the cliffs lightly with his hands, and moved forward inch by inch.
    Six hours of continuous walking. He couldn’t be walking in the right direction otherwise he would have reached Bhojbasa two times over at this speed. The compass read fifteen degrees below zero. He’d been in colder temperatures before but the wind was so strong here that he was shivering despite his layers. He had no more clothes to put on. Electric shocks like sharp pains went up and down his knee. If he kept walking higher, he’d . . .
    Everything blacked out for a moment. He blinked rapidly. The black heaviness in his forehead reduced. Quickly, he pulled out three chocolate bars from his coat and gobbled them down for energy. He sat down panting on the ice and devoured yet another piece of the Indian bread he had packed in the morning. The sky darkened more yet there was no sign of a moon or a twinkling star. The thick blanket of clouds had obscured everything.
    I am lost
.
    A knot formed in his stomach. Max had to admit to himself that his search was over. He didn’t have a clue where he was. Not a soul in the world knew his whereabouts. If he were to survive this night, he would have to return to Gangotri quickly, force his way into an empty hut and keep warm. Max put his headlamp in full-power mode, turned around and headed southeast, back to the trailhead, with a burst of manic energy, determinedly ignoring the pain in his knee.
    He stopped two hours into his descent. A forty-foot long, bluish-white glacier with dangerous-looking black rock jutting from under it lay in his path. Stunned, he stared at the slanting block of ice. Where had this bastard come from? He looked at the ridges in the bare cliff above. It must have slipped down in