by Ralph Gibbs
“Damn, that’s a lot of snow,” she said. “Our timing sucks. If we would have left two days earlier . . .” she left the rest unsaid.”
“No clouds in the sky. So, the snow is done falling for now.”
Whisper hit the snow running. He jumped headfirst into the deep snow disappearing only to pop up like a submarine a few moments later. Once surfaced, he hopped around like a kangaroo making his way around in circles only to disappear under the snow again. When he popped up again, his mouth was wide open, and his tongue was flopping around, making him look as if he were laughing. Whenever Whisper came to periscope depth, he determined which way they were headed and then bounded out in front. Hopping in front of them, he forged a path that Franklin and Danica were happy to follow. That lasted for an hour before the exhausted dog fell in behind the two, head low, tongue hanging out.
Just after mid-day three days later, they crested the first peak, too tired, wet and cold to even talk. For the rest of the day, they traveled toward the valley, only stopping to eat and heat coffee or water. As the sun began to set, Franklin suddenly stopped. Danica nearly plowed into him.
“What is it?” she asked.
“There’s a mailbox here,” he said, brushing off the snow. “I almost didn’t see it.” The fresh layer of snow gave Danica the impression the house they found was a beautifully kept mountain home, but the rusty car shell and broken clothesline indicated otherwise. She bet that if the snow melted, it would reveal a yard full of junk.
Stomping their boots and brushing the snow off their clothes, they broke in through the front door and quickly set about building a fire. There was enough wood near the fireplace to last several hours, but not enough to last the night.
“I’ll see if there’s any firewood outside,” Franklin said. “You look around for anything useful.”
Though Danica wanted nothing more than to stand near the fire warming herself, she decided that if Franklin could trudge back outside, the least she could do was look around. Whisper was having none of the explorations. He promptly curled up in front of the fire and closed his eyes.
It didn’t take long for Danica to find the owner of the house or at least what was left of him. His body had been partially eaten by something. In the next room, she found the something lying dead next to a door leading outside. The dog had plenty to eat, but no water. By the looks of the scratches on the door, the poor animal tried to claw his way out, probably until the moment he died. Outside, she heard an engine flare to life. For a few panicked moments, she feared that Franklin was abandoning her.
Rushing to the back door, she spotted Franklin sitting on a snowmobile inside a small shed. He revved up the engine a few more times and then shut it down.
“Look what I found,” he said, smiling. “It’s even got a hitch for the sled hanging on the wall. Barring another blizzard, we should make good time tomorrow. You find any food? I’m sick of MREs.”
“I haven’t looked yet. All I’ve found so far is the dead owner, his dead dog, and a lot of blankets.”
“If there’s a dog, there should be dog food,” Franklin said, coming inside. “Whisper will be happy with that. Unless he’s become too addicted to pop tarts.” After bringing wood from the pile next to the shed, they stripped down to their skivvies, wrapped themselves in blankets and hung their clothes close to the fireplace to dry.
“How do you feel about beef stew and pinto beans mixed together?” she asked, holding up two large cans of each.
“Right now, I’d eat that dead dog before I eat another MRE,” he said while nailing up a sheet to the hallway leading to the bedroom.
“What are you doing?” Danica asked.
“Something my mom used to do when I was little. We were poor, living in a trailer. It cost a lot of money to heat or cool an entire trailer, so we pinned up sheets so we could heat a smaller portion of the house. It’ll keep the heat from the fireplace limited to this room.” Franklin pointed in the direction of the bedroom. “He doesn’t need it.”
When he was done, she poured him a bowl of the mixed stew. Whisper’s bowl was empty, so she added more dog food from a bag she found and mixed in some hot stew. Before Danica or Franklin had taken three bites, Whisper was done and nosing her bowl for more.
“Stop,” she said, edging closer to the fire. “You had yours. I’ll get you more when I’m done.” She sat staring at the fire, loving the warmth against her skin. It was a paradise compared to the cold, wet clothes she had to endure all day.
“Where did you grow up?” she asked Franklin, now curious.
“Jacksonville, Florida.”
“You like it there?”
“Not really,” he said between bites. “I left right after I graduated from high school.”
“I can’t imagine not liking it. You’re close to Disney Land, beautiful beaches.”
“I’ve never been to Disney Land?”
“You’re kidding? Why not?”
“My mom couldn’t afford it. I’ve also never been to those beautiful beaches either. I’ve been to the Jacksonville beaches. For me, the Keys and Disney Land were a tease and a reminder of how poor we were. I think it’s part of the reason I never took Matthew when I could afford to go. It was like my big fuck you statement to them. Now, I’ll never get to go.”
“Disney World may be gone, but the Keys are still there,” she said, crawling into her sleeping bag. The last thing she remembered was Whisper moving closer. She put her arms around him and promptly fell asleep.
“Driving the snowmobile is easier than I thought,” Franklin said the next morning as he shut it down. For the last fifteen minutes, he had practiced driving the vehicle. “If I need to learn anything else, it’ll have to be on the way. I don’t want to waste any more gas. He has one full gas can and two empty cans. How are we on food?”
“We have a few days’ worth of MREs if we stick to eating three meals a day. In this weather, we should.”
“How much did you find?”
“He wasn’t as well-stocked as I’d hoped. He like his beef stew, though. We have about a dozen cans. Add to that an assortment of canned goods and dry cereal, and we should be good for a few days. If it comes down to it, we could always eat the dog food. He has three bags, and I plan on bringing it all.”
“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that. There have to be more houses along the way. There’s also a town coming up, so we’ll look around once we get there. If nothing else, we should be able to fill up on gas.”
“I’m ready when you are.”
“It’s not too late to turn back,” Franklin suddenly said. He gave voice to what had crossed her mind on more than one occasion walking up the mountain. About the third time she tripped and fell face-first into the snow, she wanted to scream and turn around until the snow melted, but the idea of seeing Toscana and Mathew kept her going.
“Let’s finish this,” she said stubbornly.
She tried to convince herself that once out of the mountains, she could discard the fantasy of Toscana like stale bread. “No, this won’t be an awkward homecoming,” she said sarcastically.
“What?”
“I said, let’s go, already.”
CHAPTER 55
As Franklin and Danica finished packing, a blizzard rolled in delaying their departure by three days. Neither complained. They took advantage of the delay resting, relaxing, and staying warm. Danica found a deck of cards and a few board games, so when they weren’t eating, sleeping or checking the weather, they played cards, Monopoly or Life, using the fire as their only source of lighting. On the third morning, the weather broke, so they loaded up the sled and started up the next mountain. Though the sled was crammed with supplies, they left enough room for Whisper, but he was having none of it. Danica tried lifting him onto the back of the sled, but as soon as the snowmobile moved, he jumped off and started barking at it. Then, after sniffing around the sled, he announced his contempt for the vehicle by peeing on its side.
�
��I think that pretty much says it all,” Danica said, almost laughing.
“He’ll just have to keep up the best he can,” Franklin said as she climbed in behind him. At first, Whisper kept up, but before the first hour lapsed the dog began to lag further and further behind. About two hours after leaving, they came upon a cluster of vehicles.
“That figures,” Danica said. She dismounted and gave a quick look to see if there was any food or supplies they could use. The cars yielded no prize other than gas, which they siphoned out. When they were done, she noticed Whisper asleep on the back of the sled. This time, when the sled moved, he did not. The day passed uneventfully, as did most of the next. Sometime on the fourth, neither knew when, having lost all track of time, Franklin spotted a sign announcing the small town of Snow Village a few miles ahead.
“What’s going on?” Danica yelled over the engine as she felt him slow down.
Franklin pointed at the snow-covered sign.
“That’s ironic,” Danica said. “Do you think they were trying to be ironic when they named the town?”
“More than likely they were trying to name it something that would attract tourists,” Franklin said, looking around. “There’s not a lot to do up here in the winter.” He pointed to the side of a mountain. “Except that.” Danica looked to see a dead chairlift leading up to the top of the mountain.
“A ski resort?”
“Or trying to be,” Franklin said. “Let’s camp here tonight.”
“Great. I needed a break.”
They set up their tents inside the ski shop and the next morning left with a full tank of gas and warm ski clothing. While Franklin grabbed whatever fit, Danica wasn’t satisfied until she found clothing that didn’t make her look like a Christmas tree.
“What?” Franklin asked when he caught her looking at him.
“Red and green?”
“It fits; that’s all I care about.”
For the next several days, all they did was drive the snowmobile, eat, and sleep. The temperature seemed to drop with each passing night, leading Danica to announce often that she’d never been so cold in her life. The deep snow made it impossible to find firewood, so the only warmth came from the food they heated using the MRE auto heaters.
One evening, about an hour before they stopped for the night, they came upon another abandoned car. After tapping the gas tank and filling the cans, Danica decided she’d had enough of the cold.
“Step back,” she said, pulling out a pack of matches.
“What—”
She struck a match and tossed it at the gas leaking from the tank. Grabbing Whisper, she ran about a few dozen feet as the car went up in flames. Within a few moments, the entire car was fully engulfed, spreading glorious warmth all around them.
“You happy?” he asked, standing next to her smiling, wishing he had thought of it.
“I’d be happier with a bag of marshmallows.”
“Sorry, I left those in my other pack. I’ll try to remember that for next time.”
“If I have my way, there’ll never be a next time,” she said firmly. “I don’t plan on ever going into the mountains during the winter again.”
“You do know that Cheyenne Mountain is in the mountains? The name gives it away.”
She raised an arm and flipped him off.
After the fire died out, they set up camp happier than they’d been since leaving the mountain cabin. That happiness was shattered sometime in the night when they were awoken by what sounded like a freight train outside their tent.
“What the fuck!” Danica yelled as she jumped out of her sleeping bag and rushed into the night, nearly naked. For some reason, the first thing that came to mind was a tornado. She’d always been told that a tornado sounded liked a passing train.
“Avalanche!” he screamed over the noise as he rushed out of his tent.
“Oh Jesus,” Danica said, her heart pounding heavily in her chest.
Somewhere close by, a cold white horse rushed down the mountain, and upon it rode Death, with destruction, misery, and despair following in its wake.
Danica started shivering as much as from terror as the frigid night air. She wanted to turn and face this creature of death and scream her defiance as it came to claim her life, but she had no idea which direction to face. Neither she nor Franklin could see more than a few feet on this moonless night, and that terrified her even more. How could she brace herself for the coming of death if she couldn’t face it?
Even though it made no sense, Danica’s greatest fear had always been dying, without knowing she died. She always felt she could deal with death as long as she was given at least a second for her mind to register and inform her she was about to die. What she feared was suddenly winking out of existence, as if someone came up behind her and shot her in the back of the head. For her, dying in her sleep was out of the question.
As snow churned up around them, Danica braced for the end, as terrified and frozen in indecision as a squirrel facing down a truck tire. Then, as quickly as the train arrived at the station, it left. It took both of them a few moments to realize they hadn’t rolled snake eyes. Danica screamed into the night and fell to her knees. She looked for something to throw, but when she couldn’t find anything, she contemplated throwing her father’s gun, but instead, settled for screaming into the darkness, again.
“I want out of these fucking mountains,” she yelled to Franklin. “I’ve had enough. How did people live like this?” Franklin walked over to her and put a hand on her shoulder. She silently let the tears fall.
The next morning, the car was still smoldering, but its warmth had been long spent. After packing up, Franklin tried to start the snow machine, but it failed to turn over.
“What’s wrong with it?” Danica asked.
“No idea. Even if I knew, I don’t have the tools to fix it. I guess we walk the rest of the way.”
“Just fucking wonderful. She flirted with the idea of burning the snowmobile to warm up before their journey but didn’t want to waste daylight. The quicker they set off, the faster they would get out of these God-forsaken mountains.
As they began trekking down the mountain, Danica looked behind her to see Whisper sitting on the sled. She just shook her head. He would either come or he wouldn’t. She was too tired and too fucking cold to care.
With a feeling of dread, she realized that beyond the tiredness and the chill, something more insidious was trying to find a home deep inside her—depression. The avalanche had broken something in her, and she didn’t know if it was fixable. Would she become like Wade? A dead and unfeeling husk. Beyond that, the frigid mountain air was sapping her will to live, and if they didn’t find their way out of the mountain soon, the mountain would claim her life.
Within minutes of setting off for the day, they rounded a bend and came upon a scene of destruction. It looked as if an entire forest of trees had been uprooted and dropped from the sky. God looked to have played pickup sticks with the forest but left in the middle of the game. Branches, limbs, and trees jutted from the snow from every conceivable angle for two hundred yards down the mountains. It took them nearly three hours to weave their way through, around, over, and under the uprooted mess.
For another week, Danica followed Franklin with her head down, periodically humming the tune from the old animated Christmas show where Santa Claus sings to the formally evil ice warlock, imploring him to just put one foot in front of the other. Granted, Santa Claus was singing about the warlock changing his nature, but the song seemed appropriate. Suddenly, she stopped, realizing she could see a yellow dividing line. Franklin ran into her. She didn’t even realize he was behind her. Then she refocused on the fact that she could see the road.
“Oh, thank God,” she said, wanting to drop to the pavement and kiss the road.
“What?” Franklin said. She pointed to the ground. “Shit. When did that happen?”
Looking around, Danica spotted a car ahead of them and another two a h
undred yards behind them. Throwing her pack to the ground, she ran to one of the vehicles and searched for the keys.
“Here,” she said, opening the door to a small truck. She yelled in frustration and beat the steering wheel when it didn’t turn over. “Battery’s dead.” Franklin looked down to the floorboard of the old truck.
“Move over,” he said.
“What are you going to do?”
“Something my father taught me. It’s called popping the clutch.” He rolled the car down the mountain. When the car gathered enough momentum, he popped his foot off the clutch. The car jerked and sputtered, but didn’t start. On the second try, the truck tried to turn over but sputtered out. He repeated the process a third and fourth time. On the fifth, the car flared to life. Franklin pumped the gas to keep it started “The good news is we have transportation. The bad news is we only have little more than a quarter tank of gas.”
“I’ll take what I can get. Just as long as the heater works, I’ll be happy.” He put the truck in reverse and headed back for the supplies and Whisper.
Two hours later, they rolled to a stop, having run out of gas, but they were finally out of the mountains.
CHAPTER 56
Two days and eight cars later, as the sun crested the horizon, Danica and Franklin arrived outside Arnold Air Force Base. Although neither expected the western side of the Blue Ridge Mountains to differ from the eastern half, it was still frustrating every time they came upon a bridge blockage. The pair rolled up in the pickup and stopped about a quarter-mile from the base. Franklin scouted the area with a pair of binoculars, pilfered from a nearby sporting goods store.
“How does it look?” Danica asked.
“Dead,” he said without hesitation. He put down the binoculars and looked at her. “Pun intended.”
Danica rolled her eyes. “You were just waiting for me to ask you that, weren’t you?”
He smiled broadly as he went back to scanning the base. “I plead the fifth.”