11 April 2015

The Extraction Pt. 3 - Those Grinning Sherpas

The Avenida Hermanos Ayar was long stretches of straight road followed by tight and terrifying hairpin curves. There were 13 of them (hairpins) and after rounding the second one, Darius demanded that the Sherpa who was driving (the breadth and depth of the knowledge of their proficiency in multiple tasks always amazed Darius) pull over and let him take the wheel.

Darius felt so alive today. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it but it was like he could breathe more air into his lungs and everything around him - life itself - seemed more vibrant, the colors more stark and…well everything seemed a bit more real. Like he had somehow arrived just now at this very moment. He pushed the gas pedal down a little more as he neared the curve. The wheels squealed and he could feel the gravity force trying to pull him into the passenger seat as he sped around the turn. Then another long stretch of building momentum and a harrowing curve. Nine more times and Darius was nearly jumping out of his skin.

Then the sign. The fucking sign. It read:

Welcome to Machu Picchu Preserve. The fucktarded Sherpas went the wrong way down the Avenue. He looked over.

‘What’s this? Why are we here again? How much time have we wasted?’ He grabbed his smart phone from the console before the guide in the passenger’s seat could even formulate his answer in English - regardless of how broken it was - and turned it on. It was only 8.18am local time. Hardly any time at all had been wasted due to Darius’ risky but excellent driving skills.’

‘Si SeƱor. But we thought you wanted to ride this road.’

‘You’re right but not if it meant backtracking to where we’ve already been.’

Suddenly Pox was in his head talking.

‘Darius? what’s going on? Is there some kind of problem? Everything in here seems kind of weird and earth shaky.’

‘Sorry, Senor.’

‘It’s no worries, we haven’t lost that much time. We’ll be fine. 

‘Pox, the Sherpas had us driving back toward Machu Picchu but it’s okay. We WILL make it to the Sacred Valley in plenty of time to make our two o’clock meeting with the shaman. It's not even a slight setback, really.’

Pox could tell Darius was rather miffed and so didn’t say anything. Better not to exacerbate the situation if at all possible.

As soon as he could, Darius slammed on the brakes and turned the wheel hard to the left, tires leaving rubber in a short straight line and a semi-circle and then jammed the accelerator down leaving more rubber until the tires gripped the road again and the forces of friction leveled out and the tires were allowed to do their job properly again and the car began to accelerate.

The Sherpas faces were twisted in terror.

Maybe they really had underestimated Darius’ outburst from yesterday and what he was capable of. Darius on the other hand had already gone on to other things in his mind and he really was a gentle soul. Though quirky, he was a veritable Jainist at heart; if it wasn’t for his hate of pretty much all bugs that bit, scarred, infested and sometimes even killed that is. For some reason, he just had to kill those damn things even though he understood that they were integral to the cycle of life and was pretty darn sure that without them things would go hideously awry pretty quickly. It was kind of weird because he didn’t feel any such angst toward sharks, tigers bears and like. Maybe it was because with those animals it was easy to discern that if you got to close they would eat you but bugs on the other hand always appeared innocuous whether they were or not. And mostly they weren’t, they’re like vicious little micro-triceratops with a nasty bite or sting and, contrary to appearances, really rather hard to kill…

Darius drove a little faster down each straight and got only as crazy around the hairpins as staying in his lane would allow, but definitely pushed the car and tires to their limit. The Sherpas’ white knuckled grip on the dash got tighter around each turn until their fingers were virtually bloodless. Darius drove with an air of nonchalance, using basically one finger on the steering wheel the whole time.

The Sherpas were silent. Their faces stressed and tense. When they were finally done with the zig-zagging portion of the road, Darius let off the gas and slowed down to a reasonable speed. When there were mountains on either side, he stopped.

‘Sorry about that. Had to make up for lost time, you know,’ Darius smiled, pearly whites shining in the sun.

They both smiled big huge fake yellow-brown teeth filling the expanse, smiles. Apparently, oral hygiene wasn’t as much of a priority in certain parts of the world as it was in others. Oh well, halitosis didn’t seem to be a problem but Darius didn’t get close enough to find, nor would he after this display and certainly he would do all he could to avoid it and he definitely would suppress anything in the future that he thought might make them show their teeth again. 

‘Si. Senor. No problemo. Entendemos. Um. We understand.’

‘Good. I’m glad. Now it’s your turn to drive.’ There it was again, that big dumb fake smile. ‘You do know how to drive, don’t you?’

‘Si. Senor.’ Darius was out of the car and on the passenger’s side before the sherpas had even begun moving. He stepped side to side impatient as ever. These people were slow slow. Come on, hurry up would you he thought to himself but stayed silent, contrary to his usual demeanor. They still had about an hour’s drive before they got to the little town, Darius forgot which, where there was a single-engine, old-fashioned prop plane waiting to take them the rest of the way to Ollantaytambo. It was the only way to get there from there, besides the river; and though he tried to cover all bases and would’ve loved nothing more than to spend a  meandering time riding down the mostly lazy, winding river, they just didn’t have the time. Highway 28B was another way to get there but since that way would’ve precluded seeing Machu Picchu and they were already going to be in a plane soon, there was no point in that either.

Finally, joey the sherpa - Darius wasn’t sure why he had come to view this nameless guide ‘joey’, whether he reminded him of someone he once knew or his awkward, yet somehow still sure-footed walk/hop around way reminded him of a short kangaroo, Darius couldn’t tell - got out of the car and Darius immediately got in the car behind him, suddenly itching to get moving again. Plenty of time before eschaton, no need to be so tense. Darius reclined the seat and realized it was a hell of a lot more comfortable. As the car made it’s way languidly back onto the roadway, Darius took his shoes off, rolled down the window and rested his feet just outside the window. He felt the on-rush of all that oxygen being mass produced all around him. It was all so beautiful and amazing as he tried to take in all the different shades of green that passed slowly by him and he didn't let his brain get frantic looking for patterns that weren’t there as his eyes saw half-distinct shapes and he let his instinctual mind try to make sense of them.

Darius was so thoroughly enjoying himself that the time on the road, a little over an hour seemed like only a few minutes. H was so relaxed, that when the car took a left and he saw the dilapidated old airplane that sounded like a 1968  v-8 coughing, spitting and sputtering from running too rich on air it made his chest bump like a dryer with shoes in it. 

Darius loved flying, it was one of the only things that that seemed unnatural to him, just something he felt a human wasn’t built to do, that he also absolutely enjoyed. But that never stopped him from feeling a few moments of trepidation before he set foot in that huge aluminum tube and hurtled through the air at around 600 miles per hour over which he had absolutely zero control. The condition of this tinier, far more ancient, tube just made his natural response just that much worse and longer than normal. Eventually, he got in the plane but now he was the one white-knuckled; eyes closed and gripping on to the tape (Pox), scared like a little boy on lock down, for dear life.


On the ascent, he opened one round blue eye open for only a moment and those evil viscous sherpas' rotting maws gaped and grinned from ear to ear, which disgusted Darius, the shaking of the little plane was so bad he was waiting for the fillings in his teeth to come loose and brains to scrambled like aborted chickens in a frying pan. He closed his eye again and didn’t open either of them until the plane leveled off and then only looked out the window opposite the other people on the plane. He couldn’t be rude to them or even do much that would even appear to; plus he figured he had done his fair share of pushing his luck in that direction on the drive earlier with his driving and his somewhat curt and outlandish demands. He was lucky that sarcasm didn’t translate into other languages well. Well, except maybe French, a lot of French sounded inherently sarcastic, or romantic, depending on your disposition at the time. He didn’t really know their connection to the shaman and didn’t want to ruin Pox’ chances before they even got a chance to start, and anyway, Darius really did sort of respect the sherpas. He knew for sure he could never live the kind of life they did…

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