I awoke with a start at the ping of the planes PA system.

Good afternoon passengers,

this is your captain speaking, we will now be transitioning into Tibet via Khumjung to
arrive at approximately 9pm on the 13/4/62 Tibetan time. The PA clicked back out of use
and the monotonous roar of the engines filled my ears once more. I tried to put myself
back to rest but the combination of cigarette smoke and turbulence extinguished all hope
of any sleep left to be had. We will now begin our descent into Nyingchi Airport. As we
descended through the clouds the small plane shook violently and people peered out of
the small windows hungry for their first view of this foreign land. The clouds cleared and
the expectant smiles were replaced with looks of confusion and dread. I was slammed
into my seat as the underpowered plane desperately struggled to climb in the thin air, a
glance out of my window produced only a desolate scene of black rocks capped with
snow dangerously close to the plane. I was hurled sideways against the fuselage. The
sounds of my colleagues screams filled the air as it faded to black.
***
Time had passed, I was unsure how long, but as the light began to pierce through the
veil of darkness, hushed voices filled the air. I managed to stand and slowly survey what
lay before me. People I knew. Dead. Alive only seconds before and now contorted in this
chaos, bound to their seats. The tail of the plane was unaccounted for and as I limped
toward the gaping hole I was greeted by a front of bone chilling wind and a blinding light
reflecting off of the snow. The expanse seemed vast and limitless although I could only
see about two to three hundred yards ahead of me where my eyes were lead upwards
by a steep rocky slope on all sides to a seemingly clear sky.Jane! Oh Thank God! I was
ushered into a group of about 9 people some standing at the cockpit window and others
groaning leaning against the outer fuselage. Through the cries and hurried voices I
heard rushed Nepali emanating from the cockpit window. There sat a small man in his
mid 30s bloodied and pinned into his seat barely conscious. The co-pilot turned to me
through the window and maniacally chanted through his bloodied mouth Hm
khumjua prita!Hm khumjua prita!. He says we passed Khumjung The people
around me gave confused glances toward each other and one emerged with a tattered
map of Tibet, pointing out the vast expanse of desolate himalaya that we could be
located within. The co-pilot pulled me closer now and managed to gurgle a few barely
intelligible words Mal' rivalvara d'.Bring me the revolver. The toxins were slowly
taking hold of him, creeping up from his crushed lower body as he was handed the gun
by one of the others who had found it earlier. We turned and bowed our heads as the
crack rippled through the air.

With no hope of finding help we decided to wait. There was little else but a few
chocolates and some liquor left in the luggage which was strictly rationed and locked in
the cupboard near the front of the plane. We dragged those bodies we could to the end
of the plane to give us room to sleep.
Once more the sun slowly pierced through the veil of darkness to reveal a deceptively
serene landscape. The silence was deafening. Looking out through blurry eyes I could
see a few had stirred from their slumber also and some had not. We lost four more that
night to the freezing temperatures. Again, we began the solemn task of removing those

who had not woken up from our sleeping area and rationed a small amount of chocolate
for breakfast.
***
It had been some days now and we had run out of food. I was sitting near the fuselage
with my botanical sketchbook in hand, delineating the scene before me. Anything to
distract me. There was no life anywhere to be seen. Nothing except empty wilderness to
sketch. I could hear my friend Jacques trudging through the snow towards me. He
seemed agitated as he sat down next to me, carefully leaned into my ear and whispered;
Jane I want to eat the pilot.
I stayed where I was, unmoved and silent, Jacques trudged away. I heard them being
dragged out into the glistening snow, the sickening tear of flesh from bone. Nothing
wasted. I was the only one who returned that night with nothing to satisfy my stomachs
relentless hunger. I felt disgusted to huddle together with these people, but managed to
sleep nonetheless.
A loud boom and what felt like a thousand galloping horses filled the cool night air. I
turned to look but I knew what it was. Slammed against the cockpit door by a seemingly
invisible force I struggled to breathe. My body contorted and barely able to move against
the crushing pressure of the snow. My hand found the surface. I gasped for air as I
pulled myself out now up against the fuselage ceiling frantically scratching in the snow, I
uncovered some whilst burying others.
Three of us were left now, the others either asphyxiated or buried at the bottom of the
snow. Jacques started a measly fire with one of the emergency flares. They took the
avalanche as both a blessing and a curse. Now there is more food. they would say,
completely hardened to the fact that it was their friends that were providing them with
their sustenance.

That night whilst sitting near the fire, listening to them hungrily devouring the flesh. The
will to eat growing ever stronger, my body craving the food it so readily needed. I was
faced with my own mortality now. I had to make a choice. Become one of them, or give
up, too weak to survive when the opportunity lay here right in front of me, within my
grasp. I trembled with weak hands as I picked up the knife and turned over the body so I
didnt have to look into their face. I plunged it into their thigh and began cutting. I could
only manage to sever a small piece before almost retching what little food I had left. I
was hungry. Very hungry. I looked over at Jacque, he paid no attention to me, completely
enveloped, consumed by that which he himself was consuming. There crouched over a
frozen corpse I had no choice. I had to eat.
Tears rolling down my cheeks I grab my bag and storm out of the reporters office. I tell
him I can take no more. I need not to be reminded of what I did, what I was forced to do
and what I discovered I could do to survive. Just to forget.