Chapter 1-2
365 Words
Thirty minutes later, they walked out of the old two-story masonry terminal into the warm night air. Across the two-lane service drive, a mob of eager men were waiting to help anyone emerging through the doors for a hefty tip. Sarah took a deep breath, tightened her grip on her luggage, and followed Greg across the broken macadam drive to a tall Nepalese man holding a cardboard sign scribbled with the words “Khum Jung Mountaineering.”
Well, so much for professional marketing, Sarah thought as Greg pushed the cart carrying their mountain of gear. When they came to him, the man smiled.
“Namaste! You are Mr. Madden?” he said, offering a toothy smile.
“Yes,” Greg said. “Where to?”
The man directed them to a break in the long, roped-off line between the emerging travelers and the crowd. Parked a hundred feet ahead was a Ford minivan with the Khum Jung Mountaineering logo on it. As they strode toward it, several men in the crowd gathered behind them, trying to vie for an opportunity to be of assistance.
The hopeful contingent was cut short, though, when a tall, broad-shouldered man hopped out of the minivan’s side door. “We’ll take it from here, gentlemen,” the man said, shooing them off.
Sarah casually glanced at the man’s shoulder-length salt and pepper hair that was tied back into a ponytail. Was he just another cog in the Khum Jung Mountaineering machine or was he one of the guides? He appeared to be the latter.
He broke into a broad smile. “Namaste! Frank Kincaid here. Let me get that for you,” he said, taking her bag.
“Thank you,” Sarah replied, surprised. She never expected the renowned Mr. Kincaid, whom her son bragged about so much, to meet them personally.
The man turned to her son. “You must be Greg. And you would be Sarah, I assume?” he said, glancing back at her.
“That would be correct,” Sarah answered. Though his glance had been fleeting, she felt judgment in it.
“Well then, welcome to Nepal,” Frank replied, opening the hatchback and tossing her bag in. “How was your flight?”
“Long,” Greg said.
“I bet,” Frank replied, closing the van door. “Why don’t you both get inside while I get your gear stowed away up top?”
- Writer
