been sure he would. He began walking across the ice, looking for shelter from the wind that had just sprung up, and wondered how many days he could last before he became his race’s second victim on this alien mountain.
2038 A.D.
"I’m feeling kind of useless," said Ray Glover. "I mean, it’s a fabulous discovery and we’ll probably all get rich and maybe even famous, but the fact remains that I’m the sound man for a video of a corpse."
"You’ll have more than enough work soon," said Bonnie. "We’ll be interviewing everyone before we leave the mountain."
"I know," said Ray. "In the meantime I’ll just concentrate on trying to catch my breath."
Charles Njobo walked over to me. "When do you plan to contact your experts on your laptop?"
"In a few minutes," I said. "The sooner I do it, the better."
"Do not do so until after I contact my government," he said.
I wasn’t happy about it, but it was his country, so I had no choice.
Just then I noticed a snowflake floating down, then another and another. Within three minutes we were actually in a snowstorm. We could look down the mountain and see that it was raining two thousand feet below us. Then, almost as suddenly as it started, it stopped.
"Well, now you know how he stayed hidden all this time," said Jim Donahue, gesturing toward the creature, which had a fine covering of snow.
Muro approached Njobo and spoke to him in low tones. Finally Njobo nodded his head, and Muro walked away. He was back about five minutes later with a leafy branch he’d found. He walked over to the creature, squatted down next to it, and began carefully dusting the snow off the body and head.
Njobo glared at me as if he expected me to object, but that was probably the best and safest way to brush away the snow.
I saw one of the porters approaching the creature. He stopped and stared down at it for a moment, and then Muro saw him and ordered him to get back with the other porters.
"What was that all about?" I asked.
Gorman spoke to Muro in a language I didn’t understand, and then turned to me. "Muro doesn’t know that porter, and he doesn’t want him messing with the body."
"How can he not know him?" asked Donahue. "Aren’t they all from the same village?"
Gorman shook his head. "They’re from the same tribe, not the same village. Muro spends most of his time as a headman on climbing parties, so it’s not all that strange that he hasn’t seen him before."
Ray Glover began swaying, and suddenly he sat down heavily on the snow.
"Are you all right?" asked Bonnie solicitously.
"Just a little dizzy and short of breath," he answered.
"Just sit still and don’t exert yourself," said Gorman. "Altitude affects people differently."
Glover stared at the creature. "I wonder how he handled it?" he mused.
***
More to the point, thought Glover, why did he subject himself to it? We’re all pretending that he might not be an alien, but clearly that’s exactly what he was. What was it that kept him on this mountain, with a whole world to explore? Was he hiding? Was he a refugee? Or was there something on this mountain, more than anyplace else, that attracted him? The locals have made great progress, but they’re still primitive by the rest of the world’s standards. Did he have some plan to elevate them? What about them could have so fascinated him that he chose to remain in this hostile environment?
Ray Glover was the fourth blind man.
To be continued-
What the Sound Man Saw
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