by K. C. Crowne
The ski lift went up and up. The girls next to me chatted about their plans for the day, but I stayed focused on the ride. I slipped my camera out of my bag and prepared to snap some pictures, but no matter how I angled myself, I couldn’t get it quite right. And with the view I had, there wasn’t a chance in hell I was going to let the perfect shot slip through my fingers. From our height, the massive Stanley Hotel appeared dollhouse size, the stately building snug among the powdered-sugar-white mountains. The guests were little dots below, and the whole scene cried out to be caught on film.
So, I did what any self-respecting photographer would do – I put my life on the line to get the shot.
The girls chatting were to my left, so I shimmied out from behind the metal bar that had come down over our laps to hold us in place. As I did, out of the corner of my eye I spotted one of the women pointing at me, getting the attention of her friends. But that didn’t matter to me - I was more than used to people gawking at me while I was in the process of getting the right shot. I kept at it, wriggling myself out from under the bar.
The girls gasped as I sat up on my knees. I glanced down, the drop below at least a few hundred feet. Without the safety of the bar, a hard jostle of the cart might send me hurtling to the ground. But that was all the more reason to snap the photo and be done with it.
The girls kept chattering as I raised the camera to my eye. I took a deep breath like a sniper about to fire off a round, and then…click-click-click. I took a quick flurry of shots, getting just the angle I wanted before letting the camera hang around my neck.
I turned to the girls, gave them a smile and a wink, then slid back under the safety of the bar. “All part of the job,” I said, tapping the camera with my fingertip.
The looks on their faces changed from concern and fear to impressed. They smiled invitingly, letting me know that if I wanted to chat them up, they were open to it. I simply nodded my head at them and returned my attention to the scenery. With Lola in my life, it was like other women didn’t even exist.
We reached the top and I grabbed my gear and prepared to take the trip down. After twenty minutes or so at the top snapping photos, I got in line for the slope and began my wait. But something strange happened as I did – I felt a rumble under my feet. It was a gentle one, like the earth had shifted slightly beneath me. I looked around, noticing a few other guests had noticed the same thing.
The line moved, the people ahead of me disappearing over the crest of the slope. When it was my turn, I felt another rumble, this one deeper, more intense, but I was too eager to get down to the bottom of the mountain. I stuffed my camera into my bag, threw it over my shoulder, and pushed off.
A big grin formed on my face as I flew down, the cool air whipping my face, the world a blur of white and blue above. Then the ground shifted beneath me and a thunderous noise cascaded from above. I knew the sound, had heard it before, and my stomach clenched.
Avalanche.
My heart began to race. I glanced behind me as I raced down, my fears confirmed as I spotted the cascading rush of snow roaring down the mountain behind me. It was a massive blanket of white, one that covered the lodge above as the skiers rushed for cover in the building.
The rushed toward me, barreling down toward the bottom of the slope like a huge, runaway cloud.
There was nothing to do but get the fuck down the mountain as fast as possible. I turned my attention forward, aiming my skis toward the bottom and flying down. The rumble grew louder and louder, and I knew the snow was close, but turning around to see it would only slow me down.
When I approached the bottom, I saw dozens of people running for cover. I pulled myself into a position to slow down when I reached the stopping point, yanking off the skis and tossing them aside before pulling my camera out of my backpack and taking snap after snap of the oncoming snow.
My brain was in photography mode, and all I could think about were the shots and what I could sell them for to help after the damage had been done. The snow barreled down, and when it reached me, rising like tidal wave, one thing and one thing only came into my mind. Lola.
Chapter 22
LOLA
Twenty minutes earlier…
I was in Heaven.
Mani-pedis, massages, spa days – I’d never been into those kinds of things. They’d always struck me as far too indulgent. The idea of paying money for someone to rub my weary muscles seemed like a pampering process that no self-respecting person could indulge in.
But that morning at the spa had changed my tune and changed it hard.
“Right here,” the masseuse, a friendly, hippie-ish middle-aged woman named Stacy noted. “This is where you’ve got it.” To make her point, she drove her fingertips hard into the middle of my shoulders, a perfect blend of pleasure and pain rushing through me.
“Oh maaan,” I groaned, her touch applying such perfect pressure that my muscles melted into rich, golden butter. “That’s…oh woooow.”
Stacy chuckled. “The reason that feels so good is because those spots are where you’re carrying all your tension. What did you say your job was again?”
I was going to say “ophthalmologist,” but didn’t feeling like getting into the difference between that and an optometrist. “Eye doctor.”
“Mhmm,” Stacey hummed, making the noise with total confidence, as if she’d cracked the case. “Bet it’s all that leaning over and such. Positions like that’ll get your chakras all out of whack. Trust me.”
I grinned. Stacy was a little on the granola side, and as a doctor, I didn’t put too much stock in that sort of hippie-dippie stuff. For me, it was all about evidence and hard facts. But damn, the woman knew what she was doing, and I wasn’t about to complain about the results.
Comparing my scientific way of thinking to Stacy’s put back into my head the Scully and Mulder comparison, making me think of Patrick. The spa day was nice, but what I really wanted was to be with him, maybe grab a bite to eat before climbing back under the covers for the rest of the day.
It was almost scary how much I felt for the guy, how much I wanted him. And it was more than that. It wasn’t just that I wanted him, it was that I…
My eyes opened wide as I lay on the massage table. A word appeared in my mind, one that was almost too much to think. But it was there again, hovering just on the edge of my consciousness.
Love.
“You alright?” Stacey asked, her fingers working the muscles along both sides of my spine.
“Fine. Just thought of something.”
What a blasé way to put the thought that had occurred to me.
Stacy finished the massage, and I took a quick shower to get all the oil off my body. I stepped into the relaxing massage room where eastern music played softly, the space illuminated by candlelight. Stacy was gone, leaving me to get dressed. My stomach growled – I was ready for some lunch. I couldn’t wait to meet up with Patrick and grab a bite to eat, maybe even have a little of him to snack on after.
As soon as I buttoned my jeans, I felt another rumble. At first, I was sure it was my stomach again, this time very eagerly insisting I put some food into it as soon as possible. The rumbling didn’t stop, however. In fact, it grew more and more intense with each passing moment, and I began to feel the dizzying effect of it.
Something was happening.
I threw on the rest of my clothes and hurried out into the hall of the spa. I saw other patrons running toward the hotel lobby, expressions of worry on their faces.
“What the hell’s going on?” I asked.
One of the women turned and yelled a word over her shoulder that made my blood run cold. “Avalanche!”
I stopped, my eyes wide with shock as I processed what she’d said. Once I got my bearings, I burst into a run, heading down the long hallway toward the lobby. The place was a total commotion when I arrived, dozens of guests yelling and hurrying to get God-only-knew-where.
I rushed to the westward part of the lobby, and
through the tall windows in the lounge, I could see it. A towering wall of snow hit the bottom of one of the ski slopes, the impact kicking billowing clouds of white into the air so high they caught the beaming light of the sun, glittering brilliantly before cascading back down.
I feverishly scanned the crowds of people running from the snow, trying to spot Patrick among them. Through the endless white, I spotted it – that silly little neon green stripe on his black parka.
While everyone else was running as quickly as they could from the avalanche, Patrick was in the middle, taking pictures of the chaos, the camera in front of his face, only stopping to dart to new locations for another angle.
The man was a risk-taker, I had to give him that. But I wasn’t about to let him put his life on the line.
I hurried out of the lodge, sidling through the masses of people squeezing through the doors to get into the lobby for shelter. My eyes stayed locked on Patrick’s coat, focusing on that neon band. The thought occurred to me, of course, how I’d busted his balls for that neon stripe only for it to be the thing that helped me find him in the madness.
The snow still hung in the air above as I ran, the side patios of the hotel blanketed, the chairs and tables mostly buried. I trudged through, my sneakers soaked, my feet cold.
“Patrick!” I shouted when I was close enough, his back to me.
He didn’t hear me at first, but after I called out his name a few more times, I was finally able to get his attention.
“Lola!” Without a moment’s hesitation, he hurried over, letting go of his camera and throwing his arms around me.
God, it felt so good to see him. Relief ran through my body.
His hands on my shoulders, he glanced down at my clothes. “You’re not dressed for this – get back in there now!”
I shook my head. “Not a chance. You want me inside, you’re coming with me.”
“No – I’m dressed for the weather, and there’re people stuck out there. They need all the help they can get.”
My eyes flashed wide at this. “You can’t be serious! You’re going to run back into that?”
“Someone’s got to do it. Trust me – I’ve been through worse.”
“Then I’m coming too.”
“Not a chance. You’re in sneakers and a sweater – you’ll get frostbite. And they’ll need doctors.”
He had a point, but the idea of leaving him alone in the disaster was enough to make my blood run cold.
Seeming to sense my apprehension, he put his arms on my shoulders and looked deeply into my eyes. “It’ll be fine,” he promised, flashing me his usual cocky grin. “I’ve gotten out of worse scrapes than this.”
“Be safe, please.”
He didn’t respond with words; he leaned in and planted a hard kiss on my lips. “Get to safety.”
I nodded, fear gripping my heart like a thousand icy fingers. Patrick didn’t wait a moment longer before taking off, rushing headlong into the disaster. The air was frigid, my thin clothes not keeping me warm in the slightest.
There was nothing to do but wait and watch – and hope. I hurried back into the hotel and found a spot among the windows where dozens of people crowded around them hoping to catch sight of what was happening.
I found an open spot and scanned the endless white for that silly neon stripe. Patrick was a few hundred feet ahead, standing on a large rock jutting out of the snow as he extended his hand to someone trudging past him, the snow up to her waist. The person reached out her hand, struggling to connect.
Then more rumbling sounded.
Gasps filled the lobby as everyone turned their eyes toward the source of the noise – the top of the mountain. More snow rushed down, another avalanche barreling forward.
“Oh my God.”
It was all I managed to say before the snow cascaded down. Patrick vanished among the tidal wave of white.
Chapter 23
PATRICK
The first thing I noticed when I came back to the world of the living was that I was comfy. I was on some sort of soft bed, covers pulled up around me. It was a stark-as-hell contrast to what I remembered from before – nothing but memory swatches involving cold and pain.
I didn’t enjoy the warmth for long. A dull pain radiated out from a point right behind my eyes, the feeling forcing a groan out of me. “Fuckin’ hell.”
“I think that means he’s up.” I recognized Finn’s voice.
“Hey,” spoke another voice, this one soft and reassuring. “How are you feeling?”
Lola.
It hurt to move, but I forced my eyelids open to look at her. When I opened my eyes, I realized something was wrong.
Something was very wrong.
In the center of my vision, in both eyes, were two large, black spots. I flicked my gaze around, but the dots followed, covering up whatever my gaze tried to focus on.
“What the hell?”
I wanted to see Lola’s face, the face of my brother. But it was impossible. Whenever I tried to look at them their faces were covered up by those damn dots.
“Patrick,” Finn spoke softly, stepping over and putting his hand on my shoulder. “You need to stay calm.”
“Stay calm? What the hell is happening?” Something was happening, something terrible, but freaking out wasn’t going to solve it. I sucked in several breaths and asked, “What about that woman? The one I was reachin’ for?”
“She’s fine.” Lola sat on the edge of my bed. “The avalanches caused some major injuries, but none of them were fatal.”
“Thanks to brave souls like yourself, brother,” Finn added.
I closed my eyes and tried to focus. Memories came back in bits and pieces. I remembered Lola, the expression of fear and apprehension on her face as I ran back into the fray. I remembered climbing up on that rock to get a better sense of the scene. And I remembered that poor woman trudging through the snow, calling out for her missing boys. I’d offered her my hand, telling her it’d be a better spot to get a look out.
But I remembered nothing after that.
Panic hit me at the thought of her boys, but it was followed by cool relief as I remembered what Lola had said, that there’d been no fatalities.
“A second one hit,” Lola explained. “That’s why you’re here right now.”
“You’re lucky as hell this happened at a major hotel and not somewhere more remote. They had a whole staff on standby ready to pull people out of the snow.”
The first matter was addressed. Now it was time to move on to the second.
“What the hell happened to my vision? Why can’t I see anything?”
I couldn’t see Lola or Finn’s face, but I did see their bodies turn toward one another. I was certain they were sharing a look of apprehension.
“What’s wrong with my eyes?” I tried to sit up, but a rush of pain exploded from my chest.
“No-no-no,” Lola cooed as she hurried over to me. “Don’t sit up like that.”
Part of me wanted to panic, but I pushed that aside, wanting to know what the hell was going on.
Lola put her hand on mine, her touch calming me. “When the second avalanche hit, it knocked you down onto that rock you were standing on. You broke three ribs, and there’s a hairline fracture on your collarbone.”
“And my eyes? What happened to them?”
“You sustained some head trauma. You have a mild concussion, and you…detached your retinas.”
I was confused more than anything. “I what? You mean I cut the damn things that attach my eyes to my brain?”
“No,” Lola said calmly. “You’re thinking of the optic nerve. If that had been detached…it’d be a lot worse.” Her tone was crisp and professional, as if she were talking to some random patient and not the man she was involved with.
“Lola explained it to me while you were out, lad,” Finn said. “The retina’s the tissue inside your eyes that connects to the blood vessels. If you get dinged in the head hard enough, it can detach, an
d the tissue loses the ability to get fresh blood. That the long and short of it, doc?”
“That’s the long and short of it,” she agreed.
I was doing my damned best to stay calm. But my heart was racing as I tried to process. “Am I ever going to see right again?” I asked. “Tell me now, and don’t you dare bullshit me.” The frustration and anger and fear were getting the better of me.
“It’s a fairly simple surgery,” Lola assured me. “As far as eye surgery goes. And lucky for you, I’m well practiced in it.”
“You hear that, brother?” Finn clapped his hand down on my leg as he spoke. “Pretty damn good bit of luck gettin’ involved with one of the best eye docs in the state.”
I didn’t say anything – I wasn’t in a joking mood.
“You should be fine,” Lola tried to assure me.
“Should be fine,” I said. “Somethin’ tells me there’s a bit of bullshit in the air. Give me the straight answer – I don’t want any damn sugar-coating.”
Though I couldn’t see them, I could sense they were deciding just how to break the news to me.
“Alright then,” I said. “Spit it out!” I was losing my cool, and I hated it. “And I don’t wanna hear what you read on Wikipedia,” I said to Finn. “I want to hear what an actual eye doctor has to say.”
“Easy now, brother,” Finn tried to calm me.
“Don’t tell me to take it easy,” I snarled. “You’re not the one lookin’ down the barrel of blindness.”
“It’s not blindness,” Lola said calmly. “It’s potential vision loss. Forty percent of people recover with perfect vision – like the accident never happened. And sixty percent recover with varying degrees of improvement.”