have stayed back at Poison Bay.”
***
Jack felt hollow, echoing inside. This was even worse than Bryan’s death. Not just because Bryan had wanted to die and Sharon hadn’t. This time there was a body to deal with. They’d all been in the presence of death once before, at Liana’s suicide. But that time there had been professionals to handle the practicalities. This time, it was all up to them.
“Well congratulations, Reverend.” Kain’s voice dripped malice. “Your ‘keep the team together’ strategy has been an overwhelming success. Perhaps you could tell us what to do next, since you’re not only our resident wise man but also our expert on the afterlife.”
Jack flinched. Everyone was looking at him. No one defended him, not even Adam, who’d supported him yesterday, or Rachel, who he’d been trying to help. No one said: It’s not Jack’s fault. And then Callie spoke.
“Kain, if you can’t say something helpful, I suggest you just shut up. We’re all doing our best to get every single one of us out of here alive, and we all feel gutted that Sharon won’t be going home.” Her voice broke and she took a deep breath. The others shifted weight, looked somewhere else. “But Jack, do you have ideas about what we could do for a…” she waved her hands uncertainly “…funeral type of thing?”
They were all looking at him again, all except Kain—this time with something like hope. He felt as lost as the rest of them, but apparently he’d drawn the short straw. Oh God, help me .
He rubbed his face with both hands, then shoved them deep into his pockets, stalling for thinking time. “How about this. We leave Sharon in her sleeping bag inside her big orange plastic rescue bag. That will protect her from animals and weather, and it’ll also help the searchers find her eventually, so she can be returned to her family.” More inspiration struck. “We need to go through her pack to see if there’s anything that might help the rest of us survive. Whatever is left, we pack it up nice and tight and leave it beside her. Then we have a bit of a funeral, to say goodbye. And then we pack up all our stuff and get the hell off this mountain.” He lost it on the last few words, and bent his head to look at the snow, his vision blurring with tears.
“I think that’s a good plan, mate,” Adam said. Several others nodded.
Soon afterwards, Jack was marveling at this odd group of people, and how they could be at each other’s throats and then such a team when the need arose. Adam had tipped out Sharon’s pack onto a tarp and was sorting through the contents with Erica’s help; Kain was dismantling and packing the tents with silent precision; Callie and Rachel were attending to Sharon’s body, trying to make her “comfortable” in the sleeping bag, combing her hair, straightening her clothes. Jack helped them manhandle her into the big orange bag, but he left her face uncovered for the moment. It went against every instinct to cover her with plastic, even though she wasn’t breathing any more.
Jack was setting up his mini tripod on a nearby rock when Kain came up behind him. “Tell me you’re not going to film this!”
“Yes I am.” Jack was quietly sure of himself this time. “One day her son will want to know about what happened to her, and then he can choose whether or not he wants to see it. If I don’t video it, he has no choice.” He had a sudden thought. “Hey Adam, don’t forget Sharon’s camera.”
“Why would we need that?”
“One day her son might like to see the photos on it.”
They gathered around Sharon’s body, only six of them now. Jack cleared his throat nervously. “I thought perhaps we could each say something that was special about Sharon. Only those who want to do it of course. And it doesn’t have to be the most important thing about her, just something we’ll remember. And then, if no one minds, I’ll finish off with a prayer.” Several people
***
Jack felt hollow, echoing inside. This was even worse than Bryan’s death. Not just because Bryan had wanted to die and Sharon hadn’t. This time there was a body to deal with. They’d all been in the presence of death once before, at Liana’s suicide. But that time there had been professionals to handle the practicalities. This time, it was all up to them.
“Well congratulations, Reverend.” Kain’s voice dripped malice. “Your ‘keep the team together’ strategy has been an overwhelming success. Perhaps you could tell us what to do next, since you’re not only our resident wise man but also our expert on the afterlife.”
Jack flinched. Everyone was looking at him. No one defended him, not even Adam, who’d supported him yesterday, or Rachel, who he’d been trying to help. No one said: It’s not Jack’s fault. And then Callie spoke.
“Kain, if you can’t say something helpful, I suggest you just shut up. We’re all doing our best to get every single one of us out of here alive, and we all feel gutted that Sharon won’t be going home.” Her voice broke and she took a deep breath. The others shifted weight, looked somewhere else. “But Jack, do you have ideas about what we could do for a…” she waved her hands uncertainly “…funeral type of thing?”
They were all looking at him again, all except Kain—this time with something like hope. He felt as lost as the rest of them, but apparently he’d drawn the short straw. Oh God, help me .
He rubbed his face with both hands, then shoved them deep into his pockets, stalling for thinking time. “How about this. We leave Sharon in her sleeping bag inside her big orange plastic rescue bag. That will protect her from animals and weather, and it’ll also help the searchers find her eventually, so she can be returned to her family.” More inspiration struck. “We need to go through her pack to see if there’s anything that might help the rest of us survive. Whatever is left, we pack it up nice and tight and leave it beside her. Then we have a bit of a funeral, to say goodbye. And then we pack up all our stuff and get the hell off this mountain.” He lost it on the last few words, and bent his head to look at the snow, his vision blurring with tears.
“I think that’s a good plan, mate,” Adam said. Several others nodded.
Soon afterwards, Jack was marveling at this odd group of people, and how they could be at each other’s throats and then such a team when the need arose. Adam had tipped out Sharon’s pack onto a tarp and was sorting through the contents with Erica’s help; Kain was dismantling and packing the tents with silent precision; Callie and Rachel were attending to Sharon’s body, trying to make her “comfortable” in the sleeping bag, combing her hair, straightening her clothes. Jack helped them manhandle her into the big orange bag, but he left her face uncovered for the moment. It went against every instinct to cover her with plastic, even though she wasn’t breathing any more.
Jack was setting up his mini tripod on a nearby rock when Kain came up behind him. “Tell me you’re not going to film this!”
“Yes I am.” Jack was quietly sure of himself this time. “One day her son will want to know about what happened to her, and then he can choose whether or not he wants to see it. If I don’t video it, he has no choice.” He had a sudden thought. “Hey Adam, don’t forget Sharon’s camera.”
“Why would we need that?”
“One day her son might like to see the photos on it.”
They gathered around Sharon’s body, only six of them now. Jack cleared his throat nervously. “I thought perhaps we could each say something that was special about Sharon. Only those who want to do it of course. And it doesn’t have to be the most important thing about her, just something we’ll remember. And then, if no one minds, I’ll finish off with a prayer.” Several people
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