Copyright 2014 Ian Purdie,

      All rights reserved.

      Published in eBook format by A Sense Of Place Publishing

      Converted by http://www.eBookIt.com

      ISBN-13: 978-0-9925487-1-1

      No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.

      For Bagurkle Rinpoche.

      Other books by Ian Purdie:

      The Imnothero Principle

      Splatterpuss

      The Book of Nasty

      PRELUDE

      A blur of fur passed in front of the two boys.

      “Was that a rat?”

      “Too many legs.”

      It was hot and there wasn’t enough oxygen in the air. The barren mountainside had lost a lot of its allure since the snow melted. The higher they climbed, the closer they got to the sun.

      Wen and Tashi had always known that one day they would climb the mountain which loomed over their childhoods, dwarfing the small Tibetan village of Womadige.

      They grew up hearing stories about the demons and other-worldly apparitions that haunted its upper slopes. They watched it change with the seasons, sometimes showing a new face every minute as its mighty bulk continually transformed before their young eyes.

      Now it was under their feet, adorning their pre-adolescent sky like a pert young breast.

      Upwards it dared them.

      After more sweat, heat, dust, rocks and going upwards than either had imagined they were committed to or capable of, they rested on a ledge just below the significantly less looming summit.

      The view was spectacular. They could see almost everything they’d ever known at a glance, and there was so much more.

      The river their mothers had washed their clothes in since they were babies meandered off into the distance in two opposing directions.

      Far below, their homes were barely visible.

      “Let’s go,” said Tashi.

      Upwards.

      Clinging precariously to a cliff in front of Tashi was an insignificant, undernourished botanical growth. Not quite a mountain shrub, it had been born from the anus of a passing eagle and had splattered onto the side of the mountain, germinating in the cruel sun of a particularly hot summer. It clung to an embedded boulder, enduring one of the harshest environments on Earth.

      The boulder proved to be stable right up until the moment Tashi grabbed hold of the plant, attempting to drag himself upwards. His weight was enough to bring the plant, the boulder, and both the boys crashing back down onto the ledge below, in a hail of dirt.

      “What’s that?” asked Wen, dusting himself off and pointing to an odd shaped rock that had bounced off Tashi’s head.

      “What’s what?” asked Tashi less interested in the object than the damage it might have done.

      It was clearly different to everything else surrounding it.

      Wen picked it up.

      “It looks like some kind of ornament.”

      “Let me have a look,” said Tashi.

      Then Wen saw something else in the debris.

      “Here’s another one! What do you think they are?”

      “I don’t know,” replied Tashi, still examining the first object. “Something pretty hard.”

      “They look like they might fit together. They’re made out of the same stuff,” said Wen.

      Neither of them recognised the material. It wasn’t rock, brick, plaster or plastic.

      “This one looks like it’s got some kind of strange writing on it.”

      “This one does too,” said Wen.

      “I wonder where they came from.”

      Tashi fitted the objects together to form a miniature pyramid.

      “I wonder how it got up here,” said Wen.

      “Are there any more pieces?” asked Tashi.

      “I can’t see any.”

      Tashi separated the two parts and they each stuffed one half of the ornament into their shirts before continuing their upward ascent. After another half hour, Wen climbed triumphantly onto the flat mesa-like pinnacle of Mt Luguna.

      They were on top of the world. Snow covered peaks spiked the horizon in every direction. As the sun completed its journey towards the blue haze of distant mountains, the final rays lit up a series of ephemeral pyramids in the thin clouds.

      ONE - THE MERCIFUL PART

      Chapter one should not be confused with chapter won. Nobody won.

      Wen was the one who lost the most. He died. And that was the merciful part; merciful to his mother and everybody else who had helplessly witnessed his tragic decline.

      Wen became a drug addict. He started using heroin at the age of 15, just after his second step-father began beating him.

      It was then he moved away from his mother and started living with Jim.

      Jim was 17 years older than Wen but he wasn’t a great role model. Jim taught Wen everything he didn’t need to know. On everything from mixing up a hit, to lubricating a sex toy, Jim was a veritable encyclopedia.

      An ex-pat Australian, Jim had managed to offend, in equal measure, both sides of the law in his native jurisdiction. Australia was a broad minded country, but Jim had pushed the limits of tolerance even in such an easy going place.

      He was wanted by both the Australian Federal Police and the Comanchero motorcycle gang for his involvement in crimes and misdemeanours too numerous to elaborate, here.

      A ‘friend’ inside the Australian Federal Police had tipped him off that he was under surveillance, more than enough incentive for him to rip off his associates in the Comanchero’s and plan an untimely exit. Their control of the lucrative Sydney ecstasy and meth-amphetamine trades had made them a wealthy, worthy target.

      Jim narrowly avoided a Comanchero bullet and a police sting and boarded a 747 bound for Katmandu with a suitcase stuffed full of cash.

      Besides this one piece of luggage, he had only the clothes he’d worn to the airport.

      However, once safely out of Australia, the $3.7 million in his suitcase allowed him to bribe his way through Kathmandu airport, and then, having purchased a new wardrobe and acquired suitable travel documents, bribe his way into Tibet. There he was able to set himself up in relative luxury, if you don’t mind yak dung. The local authorities were happy to ignore his lack of a visa for a regular fee that was always paid on time, in cash and with a generous bonus.

      Wen was formally welcomed onto the campus of junkie university late one night with a black eye and bruised ribs administered by his step father. Arriving injured and in need of immediate medication, under the expert tuition of Professor Jim he was destined to become a leading researcher in the fertile field of auto-intoxication.

      Wen’s discovery of Scotch whiskey completed the trinity of self abuse that separates the fully optioned deviate from the mere self abuser. Despite the isolated location, Jim