Excerpt:

The locals claimed that Aconcagua was haunted. Locals everywhere, in every culture in my experience, always reported the tallest mountain in the region as haunted. And in my many ascents, I'd seen and witnessed countless bizarre sights, heard more than my portion of strange sounds. But this one sends a shiver down my spine.

As suddenly as they started, the clicks stopped. I strained every faculty, waiting for them to resume. At last, exhausted, I fell into a restless slumber.

Later, much later it seemed but it might have only been a few minutes I was awakened.

Click... Click... Click.

The sound had returned, but now it was just beyond the tissue of nylon that separated me from it.

Excerpt:

We followed no trail. There was no sense of direction, no goal other than escape. Someone was in front, blindly fleeing; the rest of us followed, stumbling, falling, getting back up and running again. The light rain suddenly turned into a downpour engulfing us and great sweeping sheets. The jungle floor turned even more treacherous. Sandy slipped, fell hard, struggled to get up. I stopped and lifted her. There was blood across her body, bits and pieces of gray matter still stubbornly splattered on her face. I yanked her arm to urge her on.  "This way."

Excerpt: 

The very ease with which the climb was perceived led to so many deaths as was the case with Elbrus.  In the 11 days since we've been at this, the trek had been across wide plains of fresh snow or along narrow ridges, neither of which was more than moderately inclined.  But now we were at the end and the route was beginning to rise sharply.  With the cloud and cold that numbed gloved hands, we'd reached the most dangerous time.

From my experience most of those on the team would not understand that.  They were tired, even exhausted.  The goal was all but in sight.  The tendency was to banish any negative thoughts as well as genuine concerns from your mind and press on.  None of them would be considering the reality that once we reached the summit we were only half done.  We still had to get down alive and uninjured.

Stern was making good time, too good, and I found it difficult to catch up with him.  The route was taking us along a traverse.  The mountain rose sharply to my right, very steeply down the glacier to my left.  Such places can be quite treacherous. There was nowhere I could reach and talk to him safely so I decided to wait until after the next point when I need to disconnect and reconnect.

That spot was about 10 feet away when Stern was suddenly engulfed in a sea of white and vanished. Without warning the falling while enveloped me, shutting out the light as it swept me away.  There was no time to shout, no time to react. I found myself plunging into thin air, trapped in the deadly embrace of an avalanche.

When Derek Sodoc, only son of the world's richest and most powerful man dies attempting to climb Mt. Everest, questions are raised. Was it the mountain? Or perhaps something more sinister.

After reading the book Abandoned on Everest that details Derek Sodoc's untimely death, Sodoc's father convinces the surviving expedition members to return to Everest - presumably to recover Derek's body. With billions at stake and a relentless father searching for someone to blame, everyone is a suspect.

Set against the backdrop of the world's highest and deadliest mountain, Murder on Everest is filled with intrigue, sex, betrayal, murder and mystery. It is unlike any murder mystery you've ever read.

Abandoned on Everest
Written by Quentin Stern with
Charles G. Irion and
Ronald J. Watkins
Publisher: Irion Books, LLC
Paperback $12.95
Kindle $3.99
160 pages

Excerpt:

“What’s going on?” I asked Tom.

“That Sherpa woman is in trouble.”

“Laki?”

“That’s the one. I saw her for a moment. Horrible. Her eyes were all bugged out. Cal tried a shot of dexamethazone, but it doesn’t seem to be working.”

Dexamethazone was the drug of last resort in such a situation. It was an anti-inflammatory steroid that in certain situations was a lifesaver. That it wasn’t working was very bad news.

I went into the clinic. Calvin was still arguing with Harlan, who was making no attempt to explain himself. Laki lay nearby and looked dreadful. To see a snapshot of someone suffering from HACE with edema, you cannot imagine what you are actually looking at. Such a photo might even look funny, with the eyes bugging out in an unnatural way. What was taking place was that her brain was swelling, and there was nowhere for it to go except through the openings that held her eyes.

Laki was panting like a dog in summer. Her face was gaunt. She looked at me for help and I had none to give. She knew she was in trouble and was very, very frightened. You didn’t have to be a doctor to know that she was at the end of her rope.

Tom joined me. He glanced at her, grimaced, then turned to me. “Calvin said she’s got to be carried down now. The shot doesn’t seem to be helping. Harlan told him that the woman is already dead and he won’t risk the Sherpa in the dark.”

Harlan was right. A few minutes later, Laki stopped breathing. Calvin worked to revive her, but it was hopeless. He finally gave up and stalked off as angry as I’ve ever seen him. The Sherpa who had been nearby, moved away, not wishing to come in contact with her ghost. Someone pulled a blanket over the woman’s face, frozen in horror.