Waking up an hour and a half later to his alarm felt like a blink. He groaned, pushing himself out of bed and shaking the grogginess from his head. It would clearly take a while to adjust to the time difference.
He showered, enjoying the scalding heat of the water. He realized it had been days since his last shower. But the hot water removed the grime of travel, and he walked out feeling more refreshed than he had since this ordeal began. More than that, he was able to make actual food in the kitchen with the stocked fridge and pantry. By the time he was done with lunch, he felt like a completely new person.
Rocky emerged from his room, showered, and ate, and thirty minutes later, they headed for the lobby. Men and women in business attire still walked back and forth, doing whatever businesspeople did. James didn’t see Roche or Agent Banks, so he approached the front desk. The desk clerk smiled warmly.
“Uh,” James said. He wasn’t sure how this would work. “We’d like to... go into the city.”
“Of course, Mr. Bolt,” the clerk said. He had a slight accent, which James assumed was Nepali. “A car will pull up to the front. Tell him anywhere in the city, and he will take you there.”
They said thanks and headed to the front of the lobby. Sure enough, a few minutes later, a black sedan pulled up and an older man in a suit stepped out. He bowed and opened the rear door to let James and Rocky in. Once they were settled and the driver was back in the front seat, he asked, “Where to today?”
“Uh, we’re not really sure,” James said. “We just want to learn about the city.”
“Ah, there are many great places to start. How about Durbar Square, in front of the old palace? Great tourist spot.”
James didn’t think a tourist spot would help them too much, but since they needed a place to start, they agreed. The driver set off, pulling away from the strange military airport and hotel. They were soon winding down the mountain, headed toward the city, and James and Rocky were once again given a beautiful view of the valley. James had a hard time comprehending how vast the city was. It seemed to stretch all the way to the base of the mountains on the horizon.
Soon, they entered the city proper. The roads down here were narrow and busy. The cars in the other lane came frighteningly close to their own and turned on a whim, often causing their driver to slam on his brakes. To add to the chaos, men and women on motorcycles weaved dangerously around the traffic as if it were nothing. The buildings on the outskirts of the city were plain and square, but as they drove farther, they became taller, more ornate, painted in a variety of different bright colors, pink and green and blue and orange. The city was bustling: street vendors and shop owners advertised their wares, children chased each other in and out of alleyways, people shouted down from balconies. It was an assault on the senses—loud honking and yelling, the savory smell of food from the shops, the bright colors of the buildings. But despite feeling overwhelmed, James smiled. The city felt so alive.
“I cannot drive into Durbar Square,” the driver said, pulling to a stop where the road ended in a small roundabout. He pointed directly ahead. “But it is through there. I will wait here for you, yes?”
“Thanks,” James said as he and Rocky climbed out of the car. He felt uncomfortable making the poor man just sit and wait in the car, but it was probably what he was hired to do.
The crowd was heavy as they pushed toward the square, but it was different than the city streets. Here, many were clearly foreigners and sightseers. Groups of tourists moved together like schools of fish, clutching their phones as they took pictures of everything in sight. But there were also plenty of locals, most of them taking the opportunity to relieve the tourists of their spending money. Several women sat on the ground near a pile of bricks, with bowls of food in front of them. One woman sat on a blanket, a wide array of jewelry laid out before her, smiling at a couple examining her wares.
They turned the corner and emerged onto the square. It was surrounded by several large, pagoda-style buildings with red, layered roofs. In the middle of the square was a building larger than the rest—a temple, raised far off the ground. It sat on five large slabs of stone, each smaller than the last, forming a sort of pyramid. A staircase led up the slabs, each level flanked by impressive stone statues of different animals. The temple itself sat on the top slab and reached high into the sky. The roof was similarly structured, with five eaves, each one smaller than the last, ending in a small, bronze point at the top.
“Wow,” James said, staring up at the impressive display.
“I love this place.” Rocky shielded his eyes from the sun.
“Do not stare too long, Ketaharu,” an accented voice said from beside them. They turned and saw a man sitting on the ground, surrounded by baskets of fruit. He was old, his hair gray, and he wore a simple white shirt, baggy red pants, and sandals.
“Why’s that?” Rocky shot back.
“You may damage it,” he said with a smile. He was missing several teeth. He held out a piece of fruit. “Peach?”
“No thanks.” James turned back toward the temple.
“It is free,” the man said, holding the fruit out enticingly.
Rocky glanced at James, then shrugged and reached out to take the peach.
The man drew his hand back, holding the peach just out of reach with a toothless smile. “Only one thing you must
