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They must have followed us here the entire way. But it wasn’t
until we left camp to put up the drone, that they made their move.
Aussie Tavis and Aussie Bruce…The angry
gamblers…The poachers.
They’re positioned four-square on
either side of Rudy, who is standing…no, scratch that…who is precariously balancing himself on one of the small collapsible tables the Sherpas packed for the trek,
the rope wrapped around his neck tied off to a thick branch belonging to a
nearby iron tree. Situated not far behind him, the Sherpas themselves, tied together
at the wrists, seated on the ground, facing away from one another, their mouths
covered with strips of duct tape, as if there’s anyone to hear their screams
out here in this heavily forested nowhere.
A fire is burning in a shallow pit
