by Danika Stone
“B-but they’re still looking for our daughter?” Debra said. “I mean … there’s still hope that they could be alive, right? They could have gotten out of the snow, or dug a tunnel and crawled out, or…”
“There is a slim chance,” the officer said, “but I need you to understand, there’s a very real possibility that your daughter Vale…” He glanced at Zara. “And your son, Ashton, were caught in that avalanche. Their tracks go into it”—he took a slow breath—“but they don’t come out on the other side.”
“But you don’t know that for sure! You don’t—” A sob broke free of her throat, tearing away the rest of her words. Vale can’t be dead. She CAN’T! Debra had been so certain the search teams would find her daughter last night. Today’s discovery of the abandoned camp, the tracks in the snow, and the avalanche changed everything.
“I’m sorry, Mr. and Mrs. Shumway. Ms. Hamid. The teams are continuing to look, but with night falling, there’s little they can do. We’ve got an avalanche recovery crew who’ve come down from Banff. They’re joining the searchers from Lethbridge and Waterton. They’ll stop for the night, then go back out at dawn to—”
“But Vale’s still out there! She’s out there now! She’s lost—she’s—” Debra slumped forward in her chair, choked by sobs.
A hand brushed her leg. “Breathe, Debra, honey,” her husband said quietly. “It’s going to be okay.” Brad rubbed her knee in a repetitive, absent manner. It was meant to be consoling, but at the moment, it made her want to scream.
Constable Wyatt stared at the surface of his desk. Across from him, in the other chair, Zara held her face in her hands, composure shattered. She looks, Debra thought, the way I feel.
“So what now?” Brad asked. “What happens next?”
“They’re sending out a helicopter in the morning,” Constable Wyatt said. “I’ll keep you posted if there’s any new information. For now, let’s just pray that the two of them made it through the avalanche alive.”
Debra closed her eyes and prayed like her life depended on it.
* * *
Ash was nodding by the fire when Vale nudged him with her toe. He blinked himself awake.
“You go to sleep,” she said. “I’ll stay up and keep watch.”
“All night?” Ash said through a yawn.
“Someone’s got to keep the fire going.” She glanced out at the darkness, then back at him. “I haven’t heard anything lately, but that bear—or whatever it was—could still be close.”
He stood and stretched his back. “Nah. The shelter’s plenty close to the fire. Let’s just put on a bunch of wood and both get some rest.”
“But—”
“It’s going to be a long walk tomorrow. South, right?”
Vale nodded.
“So we put on a piece of wood that’ll last and hit the hay.” Ash headed to the pile of wood. There were plenty of branches waiting, but he sought out the tangled ball of roots that was attached to the rotting stump he’d torn from the ground. This would burn for a few hours at least. He dropped the stump into the fire. It smoked for a few seconds, then burst into flames. “Yeah,” Ash said, “that should hold until—”
Vale screamed and scrambled back from the fire on hands and feet.
“What the—” Before Ash could finish his question, the carpenter ants reached him. They crawled up his legs, finding paths under the layers of clothing to bite. Ash stumbled, almost falling into Vale who was peeling off her garbage-bag outer layer to reach the jacket below.
“Ants!” she screamed. “The stump is full of wood ants!”
Ash was too busy to answer. The carpenter ants were four times the size of the small ants that he recognized from his yard at home … and they were angry! The insects came in a black wave, biting whatever flesh they could find. Ash writhed as they crawled inside his clothes. The wood ants that reached his bare hands bit, but didn’t let go, and their figure-eight-shaped bodies hung, attached by mandibles, to his skin. He yelped and jumped back from the fire—slapping them off before tumbling in the snow. He scratched and shook, trying to free himself of the biting insects. At his feet, Vale rolled like a dog.
After what felt like ages, Ash got the last of the ants off. In his rush, he’d tossed his jacket off to the side, near the bushes. His shirt lay discarded on the lean-to. He gathered them both, carefully checking them before returning to the fire. Vale was panting like she’d been running. Her hair had come free of its ponytail and swirled around her face in a riot of curls. She had stripped off her outer layers and stood on her one good leg, shivering, in her jeans and T-shirt. She held each piece of clothing up to the fire as she checked the seams before putting them back on.
Ash shivered and zipped up his coat. The snow was falling fast. Even the fire wasn’t holding the icy grip of winter at bay. He looked through the pile of branches and found a large stick. Along with the stump, it should last a few hours.
“Do you think it’s safe?” Vale asked.
“Only one way to find out.” Ash held the end of the stick into the fire, waiting, terrified, for ants to come pouring out of the cracks and up his arm. The flames licked their way upward. Embers grew on the tip of the branch. No ants.
“There,” he said, tossing it onto the fire. “I think that piece and the stump should last a while.”
Vale yawned. “Ready to get some sleep?”
“Yeah. Let’s head in.”
* * *
It took what felt like ages before Ash finally slept. Twice he took out his phone. Each time there was no reception, so he turned it off again. Sixteen percent, even on low-power mode, was barely enough to last for the length of a phone call, and that was only if he could get enough reception to call for help. Need to get up high again. Trouble was, Vale’s twisted ankle was going to make climbing impossible.
He frowned down at the girl who slept at his side. In the dim glow of the light stick—the last one Vale had—he could see the stress this experience was putting on her. Vale’s face was drawn, her cheeks hollowed out, and lips pinched. She looked hurt, and that bothered him. Vale was Ash’s best friend, and right now she was doing more for their survival than he was. Not like I can hunt for food or something …
At the thought of food, Ash’s stomach let out a low rumble of protest. Images of his mother’s homemade mansaf—leg of lamb—on top of markook bread and roasted vegetables hung in the air before him, enticing him with their imagined tastes. The last piece of gum was long gone, nothing left to distract him from the hunger pains that tortured him. Stomach aching, Ash squirmed uncomfortably as he waited for sleep to take him. Just stop thinking about food! It was a Herculean task, but eventually he forced himself to focus on the sounds around the lean-to. He categorized them. Bird. Rodent. Crinkle of the emergency blanket. Wind in the trees …
Slowly his body relaxed, Vale’s warmth a welcome comfort. His lids fluttered closed as moments from today flickered in a random montage: Him and Vale climbing the mountain … The snowball fight … Ash stomping the snow and the cornice giving way … Grabbing Vale’s hand as they ran from the avalanche … Vale seeing the lake in the valley … The hike down … The animal in the darkness … Helping Vale with her twisted ankle … The carpenter ants in the stump … Vale in the shelter and him taking his place beside her …
Sometime later, Ash woke in the dark, heart pounding.
What was that?
He opened his eyes, taking in the faint green glow of the light stick and Vale, a warm bundle in front of him, and the opening of the lean-to with the fire down to embers a stone’s throw away. Ash was warm, surprisingly so. In fact, he felt the way he’d felt that long-ago night when he’d fallen asleep in the doghouse. It was almost like he was nestled between two—
Ash’s breath caught. Oh crap! There’s something lying right behind me.
Terrified, his senses stretched out into the shadows. Ash could feel the branches of the lean-to, but against the narrow barrier of them, something el
se lay. It was large and warm. He could feel its slow breath rise and fall. Panic rose like a wave inside him. It’s lying next to me. It’s just outside. The animal that Vale heard in the forest. It’s here!
Whatever it was, it felt big.
With trembling fingers, Ash reached back over his shoulder. He brushed aside the pine needles and branches that formed the shelter’s wall. He held his breath and pushed farther … farther …
He touched stiff fur.
Ash jerked his hand back so fast he smacked Vale in the back of the head with his elbow. She made a snuffling noise and turned her head.
“What’re you—”
Ash pressed his hand against her mouth; Vale’s eyes widened in shock. Outside, he mouthed.
Vale shook her head in confusion. What?
Ash let go of her mouth and leaned in until his lips were directly against her ear. “The animal you heard is outside,” he hissed.
He felt her stiffen. “A bear?”
“I think so. It’s on the other side of the shelter … leaning on me.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
“I’m glad you’re here, Katie. And I owe you one.”
“You owe me for a lot of things, but this is not one of them.”
JERRY SHEPARD AND KATIE, EIGHT BELOW
VALE STARED AT ASH, waiting for the punchline. He can’t be serious … can he? Did he just say there’s something on the other side of the branches? When Ash didn’t move or speak again, Vale lifted her chin and peeked over his shoulder. The pine boughs were pressed against his back, but that could be anything. It had snowed again. That didn’t mean—
The sound of a huffing breath—loud and much too near—shocked all thoughts from Vale’s mind. The branches shifted inward as the animal on the other side resettled itself against the lean-to. A whooshing sound broke the silence. Ash leaned closer. He stared at her with wide, frightened eyes.
MOVE! he mouthed.
Vale nodded, her heart heaving in her chest. She leaned back, rolled sideways, then froze, unable to go any farther. Her legs turned to jelly. What if the animal on the other side of Ash was the same one she’d seen in the woods? Can the two of us handle a bear? her mind screamed. They were huge, at least twice the size of an adult man—far exceeding a person in weight and strength—and they were highly territorial. In the animal world, bears were apex predators! We have no weapons! Nothing to fight with. No way to escape. We’re going to die here!
Reeling with panic, Vale gasped for breath.
Ash bumped into Vale’s shoulder. “Move!” he whispered. “I need out.”
“I-I’m going.”
“Go faster!” he hissed.
Vale grabbed her coat and inched backward, but moving around in the dark in silence was impossible. Terror filled her limbs with lead, making every movement stilted and jerky. Ash shoved again. She pushed forward. Her hand slid on the emergency blanket and the foil crackled. Hearing it, the animal outside the shelter jerked awake, stumbling to its feet. The branches behind Ash bent inward, then snapped back, as the walls crashed down.
There was a brief moment when Vale couldn’t move. We’re going to DIE! And then instinct took over. Heart pounding so loudly she could hear it in her ears, she fought her way from the shelter. Something smacked her sprained ankle. She yelped. Ash slammed into her butt.
“Go!” he shouted, no longer trying to be silent. “Get OUT!”
Crying, gasping, Vale scrambled out of the disintegrating lean-to as fast as she could. Ash followed. Half a second later, the last few tree branches fell inward and covered their packs and the area where they’d been sleeping in a shower of snow and branches. She stood up and lifted her gaze to the darkness of the camp.
Vale froze.
Around them, at least thirty yellow eyes glittered from the shadows. Her shoulders tensed as her mind struggled to determine what she was seeing. In the near-complete darkness, the only thing she could tell was that they weren’t alone.
“Ash,” she whispered. “You seeing this?”
“What in the world…?”
Ash stood up next to Vale just as the herd of elk that had wandered into the camp turned as one. The animals stared at the two teens. One lifted its snout and snuffled the wind, puffing white clouds of breath as it tried to pick up their scent. That was the sound I heard in the woods, Vale thought. None of them moved, barring a spindly-legged calf that had wandered too close to the lean-to. It stumbled in the tangle of branches and snow, then shook itself off, the snow sifting off its stiff fur.
“Are these a different kind of deer?” Ash asked.
“Not deer. Elk. But I’ve never seen one up close before.” Her hands tightened into claws at her side. “You’re not supposed to get this near to them.”
“First time I’ve seen one.”
The small herd watched them, as if assessing the danger the teens posed. The half-grown calf wandered away from the destroyed shelter and back toward the other elk from its herd.
Ash leaned closer to Vale. “Are … are they dangerous?”
“Sometimes.”
“When?”
“When it’s mating season, or when they think one of their babies is in danger.” Vale struggled to remember what other details she knew. Elk weren’t usually aggressive, but provoked, they could stomp a person to death. It all depended on the time of year. When are they rutting? she wondered, but the answer wasn’t there. “Either way,” she said, “they’re wild animals. We should be careful around them. Give them space.”
Ash nodded. “Got it.”
It was dark, the stars winked out by restless clouds. A soft layer of snow covered everything. More was falling. The circle of firelight was small, the fire having burned low in the past hours. Even now, tongues of flame danced over the last chunk of the stump, which grew smaller by the minute. The elk churned uneasily around the clearing.
“Why are they doing that?” Ash hissed.
“I don’t know.”
A cow elk and a calf moved nervously past them, heading into the darkness. The herd milled. Somewhere in the shadows, a bull elk bugled. On the other side of the camp, another answered.
Ash stepped closer. “What’s happening? Why are they making that sound?”
Vale’s hands began to sweat, and she rubbed them on the side of her jeans. “I … I think they might be rutting.”
“Rutting?”
“Mating. The males fight to see who is strongest. Elk can be aggressive. I just wish I could remember what time of year that happened.”
A branch broke—nearer now—and both Ash and Vale turned. “I can’t see anything,” Ash said.
“Hold on. I’ll build up the fire.” Vale had just reached down to toss a piece of firewood onto the flames when a noise broke through the darkness: Bushes crackled with the passage of a large animal.
Hearing it, several of the nearby elk sprang into action, bounding away from the fire and the lake, heading straight into the black night, leaving the teens behind. A male elk appeared from the shadows and lowered his head. He pawed the dirt, swinging his antlers back and forth.
Ash leaned closer. “What’s that one doing?” he whispered.
“I don’t know, but I think—”
An elk’s bugle—loud and angry—broke the silence. The animal crashed through the trees, passing a stone’s throw from Ash and Vale.
“They’re going to fight!” she yelped.
The two elk slammed their antlers together with a resounding crack. Entwined, they huffed and grunted, their fight bringing them closer and closer to the edge of the fire.
“We need to move!” Ash said, bolting from her side.
“Ash, wait! You can’t just—”
Another male elk, coming from the other direction, stumbled out of the shadows, blocking Ash’s path. Seeing him, it lowered its head. Charged.
“Ash!” Vale shouted, limping out of the way of the pair of elk still fighting a few feet from her. “Get BACK here! You’ll get stompe
d!”
The elk followed Ash back toward the fire. Ash rolled, narrowly avoiding the animal’s antlers. “Where?” he gasped. “Where can we go?”
Terrified, Vale scanned the clearing. The lake was ice cold. They’d be dead in minutes if they waded into the water. The trees were full of rutting elk. Climbing a tree would have been an option, but they’d stripped off most of the branches they could reach.
The first pair of elk broke apart, and the larger one bugled again. A challenger came forward and the winner backed up as the bull elk took position. The pair pawed at the ground, then smashed together, the hooves of one scattering a line of coals out of the campfire. The two of them shied away from the fire, then returned to the ongoing fight.
In a rush of understanding, Vale saw what needed to be done. “That’s it!” she cried.
“What’s it?”
“The fire! We need to build it up.”
Ash nodded. “Got it!” He sprinted into the darkness.
“Where are you going?” Vale shouted.
Ash rushed around the other side of the fire and grabbed the remaining branches that were left in the pile of kindling. He tossed them into the flames. The needles lit first, flames flashing brightly, then fading into choking bellows of smoke as the fire died down. Two muscled bull elk—caught in a fight to the death—stumbled into Ash, knocking him aside.
Ash scrambled out of their way and crawled back around the other side of the fire. “It’s all smoke,” he shouted. “I don’t know what’s wrong!”
The larger of the two elk swung his head, antlers hitting Vale on the arm and nearly taking her to the ground. It swung back again, hoofs reaching the embers of the dying fire. She ducked out of the way. “Ash, hurry! We need the fire going!”
Ash threw on another stick. More smoke belched out, the light dying. “I can’t get the stupid fire to light!” he yelled. “I don’t know what I’m doing wrong!”
“It needs more air!” Vale took two limping steps toward the shelter’s remains and grabbed a handful of branches they’d woven into a lean-to mere hours before. She tucked them under her arm, grabbed more, then dragged the wood to Ash’s side. The elk had stumbled a few feet away; the sounds of their huffed breath sent a frisson of panic through Vale’s spine. Need to hurry!