In a Strange Room by Damon Galgut Page A

silver with moisture, the mountains are crisp and clear against the blue. In the clean air the eye travels with telescopic power to the tiny details of the horizon. They are very high up.
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    Reiner emerges a while later and looks around. Hmm, he says. I think I will take a little walk. He wanders off in the direction of the gorge.
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    While he waits for Reiner he lights the stove to make some tea and then inspects the damage of last night. Some of the ropes have come loose, and some of the rocks have rolled, but otherwise the tent is secure. More than anything, their weight must have held it down.
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    Reiner is still not back, so he busies himself by dragging the rucksacks out of the tent. Then he starts to pack it all up. This takes more time than usual because of all the mud and dirt, and when the plastic has been rolled up and stowed he can’t find some of the pegs. They’ve sunk into the wet ground and disappeared.
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    Reiner reappears, striding in through the undergrowth. His silence says that he is truly in his element here, on the steeple of the world, among storms and peaks.
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    I can’t find all the pegs.
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    Hmm, Reiner says. He helps himself to tea and goes to sit on a rock, staring out intensely into the distance.
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    He digs in the mud for a bit, then wanders off to look for the metal they threw away last night. He can’t remember where they put it, nothing looks today the way it did in the dark. Eventually the glint of silver catches his eye and he carries it back in a bristling pile to put away. Reiner watches him and says, you were scared of the lightning.
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    Yes. Weren’t you.
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    He shakes his head and sips his tea.
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    I make breakfast. Reiner throws out the last of his tea and comes over to eat. They don’t talk and there is a deep tension, some remnant of the electric thrill of the storm, between them. Reiner eats slowly, thinking and staring, and he’s still busy when his companion finishes. He is impatient with waiting and goes off again to look for the missing pegs. When he next looks Reiner is perched on a rock, his shirt off, rubbing cream into his skin.
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    Don’t you want to help me look.
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    I’m busy, Reiner says.
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    Busy.
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    He comes back and collects the dirty plates and cutlery together. He stows them in his bag and by then Reiner has finished rubbing and has started brushing his hair. The brush flickers, the strokes go on, repetitive and infuriating.
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    He goes off to clean his teeth. When he gets back Reiner has finished brushing and is putting his shirt on. Then he also squeezes out toothpaste onto his toothbrush and wanders off.
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    He comes back a few minutes later at a quick, efficient pace. Ready, he says, let’s go.
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    We haven’t found all the pegs yet.
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    What.
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    The pegs.
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    Reiner clicks his tongue in irritation, he sighs. He comes over to the flattened patch where the tent was pitched and peers around at the trampled ground. After a few moments he says, leave them.
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    What.
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    Leave them. We’ll use something else.
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    It’s not my tent. I have to take care of it.
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    Well, they’re gone. I can’t see them. Come on, we’ve wasted a lot of time this morning.
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    He looks at him and from a long way inside words travel up through great resistance, he says, you haven’t done anything.
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    What.
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    You haven’t done anything. I’ve done everything this morning. I want to look for the pegs.
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    Reiner gives again that impatient click, he tosses his long hair expressively. Without a word he picks up his rucksack and sets off along the footpath they’ve been following. The one left behind stares in amazement as he strides off, his dark figure shrinking rapidly till it disappears. Then he puts the tent away in his bag and starts to follow.
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    The path goes at first through lots of twists and turns, following the