Road Rovers: Himalayan Howl

A solitary figure struggled across the barren land, gasping for breath in the freezing cold.  He was warmly dressed in a parka, heavy pants, boots, and gloves made of yak’s hair.  His eyes shielded by goggles, he stared into the blinding snow and howling wind.  Where am I? he wondered.  The landscape, which he normally knew like the back of his hand even from a few stray rocks sticking up, was so covered that he couldn’t make anything out.  It was as if he were in an endless void of purest white, tinted orange by the lenses of his ski goggles.  Even by the ground beneath his feet, he could barely tell that he was traveling downhill, much less how steeply he was going.  Tentatively, he took a step forward.

 A cracking sound filled the air as a slab of ice came loose beneath his feet. It dropped about three feet and began to slide down the mountain with the beginnings of an avalanche in its wake.  Wide-eyed, he struggled to stay on the impromptu snowboard.  Mounds of snow zipped past faster and faster, sending adrenaline through the man’s body at a prodigious rate.

 The ride took an abrupt turn for the worse when the slab rammed into one of the mounds and shattered against a rock hidden by the snow.  His screams muffled by his scarf, the man flew though the air and crashed headfirst into the snow.  A moment later a wave of falling ice and rock picked him up and carried him along for several hundred yards before slowing to a dead stop.

A single gloved hand protruded from the snow.  Motionless.

 Shortly after, a larger hand reached out to take it.

“Well, another successful mission for the Road Rovers,” grinned Hunter as the Sky Rover sped over Asia.

 “That makes four this month,” Colleen put in.

 “Why are you keeping track-ski?” asked Exile.

 “Well,” Hunter replied, but he was suddenly interrupted.  A beeping sound came from the control panel, and a moment later a screen flashed to life with the image of a man’s face, lit from behind, with wild hair and glowing white eyes.  “Master!” exclaimed Hunter.

 The Master’s voice was grave.  “Rovers, I hate to bother you when you’ve just finished a mission, but there’s a problem that needs your immediate attention.”

 “Can it wait?” asked Blitz.  “I have an appointment with-”

 “No,” chorused the Master and the other Rovers.

 “What is the trouble-ski?” asked Exile.

 “A man has turned up missing in the Himalayas,” the Master explained.  As he spoke, a map of the remote mountain region replaced his face on the screen.  A red dot blinked on the map, and in the corner was a picture of a man with blonde hair and a short beard.  “He hasn’t been seen for several days, and the search parties can’t find a trace.”

 “What's so important about one lost hiker?” asked Blitz.

 “Maybe he’s in movies,” suggested Colleen.

 “Oh, cool,” Hunter brightened.  “I hope we can get his autograph.”

 The Master coughed slightly.  “The man is noted for his knowledge of medicine – no, human medicine, not veterinary medicine,” he added in response to a whimper from Shag.  “Among his more remarkable contributions was the discovery of a rare mineral compound with extraordinary healing qualities.  If he is lost, his insights will be lost as well.  Also, he is…”

 A burst of static cut out his next words.  “What was that?” asked Colleen.

 “His na… Al… he is…” and that was all they heard.  The signal died in static as snow whipped around the plane.

 “I would not have predicted this,” muttered Hunter.  “Well, Rovers, we’ve got our mission.  Let’s hit the road, Rovers!”

 “But we are not on the road,” Exile pointed out.

 “Hmm, good point,” agreed Hunter.  “How about, ‘Let’s hit the sky, Rovers’?”

 Nobody seemed to like that one much.  “Doesn’t have the same ring to it, does it?” asked Colleen.

 “Picky, picky,” complained Hunter.

 As they changed course and headed for the coordinates the Master had sent, they pondered the mission ahead of them.  Who was the guy they were after?  Why had the signal died right before the Master could tell them?  And most important, when was lunch?

Meanwhile, back at their headquarters, a man named Professor Shepherd (a.k.a. the Master) sat staring at the static-y screen in suppressed frustration.  They don’t know, he thought.  They don’t know who they’re after.

At about the same time, somewhere in an isolated location, another man and a woman sat watching the news on a screen four feet high and six feet wide.  “After several days, local search parties have given up trying to find a man who turned the medical world on its head.”  A photo flashed on the screen, and both viewers gasped both at the man’s face and at the name under the photograph.

 “It’s impossible!” exclaimed the woman.

 “And here I thought we’d seen the last of them,” muttered the man, rubbing his stubbly chin with a metallic hand.  A nasty light glinted in his eye as the newscast continued.  “This may be the best thing that’s happened to us in a long time,” he gloated.

The Rovers flew past the area where the map indicated.  “Try the communication system again, Huntie,” urged Colleen.

 Hunter pressed the button, hoping to see the Master’s face.  But all he got was static.  “Bummer,” he complained.  After a moment’s thought he pushed another button and smiled as a detailed map of the area came on-screen.  “Well, the GPS still works.  And there’s a village not far from here.  Let’s stop and ask for directions.”

 A gurgling sound was heard from Shag’s direction, followed by a great deal of indecipherable talk.  Well, indecipherable unless you happened to be a dog.  “No, Shag,” Hunter replied, “I don’t think they have a restaurant there.”

 “Why bother asking anyway?” Colleen asked the sheepdog.  “You’ve got everything in your fur but the kitchen sink already.”

 Shag reached into his thick white pelt and a moment later produced a metallic double-sink, which he casually tossed aside.

 “I had to say it,” muttered the collie.

Much to their surprise, it turned out food was the least of their problems when they got to the village.  As soon as people saw them, they began running every which-way screaming gibberish.

 “What’s with them?” asked Blitz.

 “You’d think they had never seen Road Rovers before,” replied Exile.

 Doors slammed and curtains were drawn shut as people rushed indoors.  In less than a minute, the village seemed completely deserted.

 “You know,” Hunter suggested, “These people never watch TV.  Maybe they’ve never heard of us.”

 “Never heard of me?” asked Blitz.  “What a pity.”

 “Yeah,” Colleen muttered to Hunter.  “A pity now that they have.”

 “I hear of you,” said a voice.  They turned to see a boy coming toward them.  He had brownish skin, somewhere between African dark and a California tan, and he wore fairly simple clothes like all the other villagers.  Judging from his size he was roughly in his mid-teens.  He pointed to Shag.  “They say you yeti,” he explained.  He swiveled his head once to take in the group, then pointed a thumb at himself.  “I Sonam."

"What's nam, and where did you see it?" asked Hunter.

"I Sonam," the boy explained. "My name Sonam.  You dog-men come look for healer-man?”

 The rovers exchanged an uncertain look.  “We’re looking for this guy,” Hunter told him, pulling out a photograph printed from the Master’s briefing.

 The boy’s eyes lit up instantly.  “Yes, him healer-man Alan!  Friend of Sonam!”

 “You know him?” asked Exile.

 Sonam nodded eagerly.  “Yes, once I very sick.  Village chief say must go to mountains or make everyone sick.  I go, almost die.”  He pointed to the picture.  “Him find me, make well.  Now we life-friends.”

 Colleen was quick to take advantage of their good fortune.  “Do you know where we can find him?”

 Sonam shook his head sadly.  “Nobody know.  Alan go into mountain, say he go learn more medicine.  Three weeks, not come back.  Many search, not find.”

 Hunter laid a hand on Sonam’s shoulder.  “Don’t worry, we’ll find him.  The Road Rovers haven’t failed a mission yet.”

 Sonam smiled, seized Hunter’s hand, and shook it fervently.  “I help you.  I know some paths healer-man use.  Be guide!”

 “No way!” protested Blitz.  “He’ll slow us down!”

 Hunter wanted to tell Blitz a thing or two about manners, but the Doberman did have a point.  “Sorry, Sonam,” he replied, “But this isn’t a trip for kids.”

 Hadji was outraged.  “I not kid!” he exploded.  “Kid is goat! I man!  I fifteen winters old!”

 The Rovers looked at each other.  “Guess they grow ‘em faster ‘ere,” Colleen observed.

 “I be much help.  Good help,” Sonam went on, speaking with all the vigor and urgency of Billy Graham on espresso.  “I go into mountains many time.  Show way.”  Hunter was about to tell him no again, but Sonam insisted.  “Alan my friend.  Him save me.  I help him now.”

 Hunter had to concede now.  After all, how could any dog not respect loyalty like that?  “OK,” he agreed.  “You can come.  But if things get too rough out there, you go home.  OK?”

 Sonam grinned and raised his left thumb and index finger in a circle, with the