The Trail to Buddha's Mirror - Don Winslow [141]
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.”
“You said there were three.”
“Yes, and I could swear one is a Westerner. The one with the rifle.”
“Impossible. Probably a Yi tribesman, a hunter.” The driver shrugged.
“How long?” Xao asked. “An hour at the most. Longer for him.”
“Go and get things ready.”
“Yes, Comrade Secretary.”
An hour, Xao thought. After all these years, one hour to the family reunion.
She reached the Buddha’s Ladder well before he did, of course. It wasn’t a ladder at all, but a severe rise up the side of the summit to the edge of a precipice. On the other side was the Buddha’s Mirror. There were few actual steps here, mostly just a treacherous, slippery dirt path.
She stopped and waited. The view from here was lovely, she thought. Rock peaks seemed to rise straight up from verdant bamboo jungles. Swirling rivers and waterfalls like sapphire brocade on green silk. The entire Sichuan Valley stretched out in front of her. Behind her, Emei’s final peak, gray and austere, waited for her. The sight of her own soul waited for her, and she had waited a long time for it.
The sunset would be scarlet. She could tell that already. How appropriate, she thought, that she would meet herself under a red sky.
“Hurry up!” she shouted to him.
There was much to love about him, she thought as he broke into a jog. It was more like a shuffle, but she admired him for it. What pain it must be costing him! What a stubborn man! And what a price his stubbornness had cost!
“Can you go on?” she asked when he reached her side. He was bathed in sweat. His face was green with pain.
“Yeah. How far behind do you think they are?”
She shook her head. “I think we can make it, but we have no time to waste. Please do not fall behind.”
She squeezed his hand, then turned and started up the last climb. She had tried to encourage him, and perhaps herself, but in her heart she knew it was too late.
Simms watched her. If he’d had a better weapon he might have tried it right there, but that would still have left Carey and Pendleton to deal with. No, better to wait until they were all nice and cozy at the top.
He looked down to where Peng was huffing up the last couple of switchbacks.
“Jesus H. Christ, put it in gear!” Simms yelled.
Nothing more useless than a fat chink, he thought. And the young one is completely useless.
Well, shit, I can’t afford to wait for them.
Come on, he told himself. Let’s get it done.
He pushed out onto the saddle.
Neal worked his way up the slope on his hands and feet. The grade was so severe he couldn’t stand up and walk, so he used his hands to balance. Li Lan was using the same method just above him, only she was making much faster progress. Every few paces Neal’s ribs scraped against the slope, and the fiery pain would stop him for a few precious seconds.
He heard her yell, “There is a flat spot just up here! You can make it!”
He pulled himself along, digging into the dirt with his fingers, literally clawing his way up. It seemed like hours before he made it to where she was sitting behind a large rock on the uphill side of the path. She pulled him behind it with her.
He could see the summit clearly now. What looked like a rough wooden pavilion was perched on the edge of the far side. Two men—no, three—stood on the pavilion