Once a Marine (Those Marshall Boys)

by Loree Lough

  Summer gasped. “No. Oh, no. Not Alex…”

  “You know Rose. She could have misinterpreted things. I’m heading to her place right now.”

  “I’ll go right over. If nothing else, I can hold her hand and keep her calm until you get here.”

  When he arrived, Zach found them on the couch, Summer with an arm over Rose’s shoulders, Keeper with a paw on her lap. She seemed almost catatonic, staring at the wall across the room, clenching and unclenching her fists.

  He knelt at her feet, took her trembling, icy hands in his. “Hey, Rose. Let’s think positive thoughts, okay?”

  Nodding, she met his eyes.

  “Did the guy who called leave a number?”

  Another nod, and then she pointed.

  He got up and went to the bar counter that separated the family room from the kitchen, and found the notepad where she’d scribbled an almost illegible message. Zach picked up the phone and punched in the digits.

  “Winter Park Ski Patrol,” said a gruff voice, “Harman here.”

  Zach identified himself and explained why he was calling.

  “The kids were out on the Sunnyside lift of Mary Jane.”

  Mary Jane, one of eighteen new trails that had earned Colorado the right to boast about some of the steepest chutes in the country…and the run that had claimed several lives.

  “We’ve had a high avalanche alert in place since the day before yesterday,” Harman added. “But you know kids.”

  Zach hadn’t met the rest of the boys, but Alex wasn’t a risk-taker. Peer pressure being what it was, though, there was a first time for everything, he supposed.

  Zach put his back to Rose and lowered his voice. “What kind of avalanche was it?” he asked Harman. With any luck, the answer would give Rose some hope that Alex had survived.

  He remembered the newspaper article detailing the death of a young man from Evergreen. He’d succumbed to asphyxiation after being buried in what some experts classified as a loose-snow avalanche, the most common type, with a single point of origin that widens on the way down. Thin “slab” avalanches caused the least amount of damage, but thick ones were responsible for many fatalities. Powder avalanches had the capacity to reach speeds of more than 190 mph. And although wet-snow avalanches moved slowly at first, they had a tendency to pick up speed.

  “Sorry, sir. It’s just too soon to tell.”

  Zach sighed heavily then reined in his frustration. “So what’s the plan?”

  The officer explained that unless the wind died down and forecasters were wrong about the additional eight-to-ten inches likely to fall throughout the day, it would be tough going for the rescue team.

  “Mrs. Peterson will want to be there. Where can we wait for more news?”

  Harman gave directions, which Zach added to the notes Rose had taken.

  When he returned to the family room, she looked up at him with damp, optimistic eyes, and he wished he could tell her what she wanted and needed to hear.

  He held out a hand, and she let him help her to her feet as he explained the situation.

  “I’ll get her purse and coat,” Summer said, heading for the front hall closet. “You guys head on over, and I’ll meet you there just as soon as I call Libby, see if she’ll stay with Keeper.”

  Nodding, Zach pressed the slip of paper into her palm.

  “Rose,” Summer said, one arm around her waist, “do you have your insurance card in your wallet?”

  “No. It’s…” She hid behind her hands. “I think it’s on my desk. In my room. Or maybe in the bills basket.”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll find it,” Zach assured her.

  As he walked away, Rose fell into Summer’s arms. “Oh, God,” she wailed. “What will I do if—”

  “Now, none of that,” Summer said, her voice low and soothing. “We’re going to think positive thoughts, just like Zach said. Right?”

  “Thank you,” he mouthed silently over Rose’s head. “Couldn’t do this alone.”

  And he meant every last syllable.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  ROSE HAD SNIFFLED and cried during the entire hour-and-a-half trip from Vail to Winter Park. Second guesses, blame, guilt, shame…she covered all the bases. And since nothing Zach said offered her any comfort, he thought it best to simply drive and let her get it off her chest.

  When he steered up the steep drive, she said, “This can’t be the place.” She grabbed his forearm. “You must have made a wrong turn, Zach.”

  “Sign says Winter Park Ski Patrol.”

  “But…it’s barely more than a shed!”

  “They don’t need anything fancy. Just four walls and a roof so they can get out of the wind and cold, internet connection and electricity and a place to stow their gear.”

  She unbuckled her seat belt, and even before he came to a complete stop in front of the building, she jumped out of the truck. As he pocketed his keys, Zach saw a man in the standard-issue red-and-black cold-weather gear open the door.

  “Is there any news?” she asked him. “Please tell me you’ve found my son!” Rose looked around. “Where are the other parents?”

  The man’s face crinkled with a pitying frown. “We couldn’t get hold of some of the kids’ folks,” he said. “But most are on their way.” He placed a hand on her shoulder as they went inside the small building. “Try not to worry, okay? We’re assembling a search team. In the meantime, you’re welcome to wait over there.” He pointed to a narrow wooden bench against the wall. “There’s coffee on the warming plate and bottled water in the fridge. Help yourself.”

  The radio squawked and hissed as Zach led Rose to the bench and poured her a cup of coffee. “Let me see what I can find out.” He helped her out of her parka then joined Harman at the long folding table.

  “This,” Harman said, indicating a spot on the big map, “is where the kids were supposed to be.” One chaperone, he explained, had gone up with the kids, while the other teacher stayed at the bottom of the lift to keep an eye on their backpacks and other gear. “When they didn’t come back at the appointed time, the teacher called 911. And the sheriff’s department called us.”

  Zach knew that every minute could make the difference between life and death. Already, the group had been missing nearly three hours. And since it wasn’t likely they’d enrolled in survival training seminars, the outlook wasn’t good.

  “We have a really solid unit,” Harman said. “Some full-time patrollers, couple of part-timers, a few volunteers.”

  Every winter during his college years, Zach had been one of those volunteers. So had doctors and cops, firefighters and paramedics and an off-duty reporter or two. Days started early, usually by seven-thirty, with a rundown of anything pertinent that might have happened the day before, and a lively discussion about the weather. After a quick practice run, where one member of the unit assumed the patroller role while another played an injured skier, they would head out to check each run, making sure rope lines were firmly planted, checking the lift towers and trail signs, and surveying snow conditions. The hours passed quickly as they responded to reports of missing signs, loose ropes and skier mishaps. By the time they knocked off at three o’clock, the unit was more than happy to hand control over to the night patrol, which closed the mountain and flexed their “no skier left behind” muscles.

  “Weather doesn’t look pretty,” Harman said. Turning, he drew Zach’s attention to the computer monitor on a second long table behind him. Graphs and charts and maps detailed the jet stream forecast, wind speed, air temperature and precipitation predictions.

  “Not one of those idiots was wearing a transceiver,” he complained, and went back to studying his map.

  Even though Alex could well be one of those idiots, Zach didn’t flinch. He knew all too well what had inspired Harman’s frustration. Finding the kids—if, heaven forbid, they were under the avalanche—would be a whole lot faster and easier with a signal to follow. Unfortunately, transponders were expensive. Ver
y few skiers carried them, and even fewer took the time to properly synchronize their frequency with transceivers.

  The door opened, and Summer entered, bringing with her a blast of snow-peppered wind. She jerked out of her jacket, walked straight up to Rose and wrapped her arms around her. Zach knew in an instant that she’d probably fought tears all the way here, and pulled herself together for Rose’s sake.

  Harman frowned. “Great. Just what I need,” he said under his breath, “another hysterical female to tend to.”

  “Trust me. She’s anything but.”

  “Guess I’ll have to take your word for it. But let’s just say for argument’s sake that she’s your responsibility.”

  “No problem,” he said as Summer met his eyes.

  “Any news?” Summer mouthed across the room.

  Zach shook his head slowly.

  Summer picked up Rose’s still-full disposable cup and got to her feet. “Let me freshen this up for you. Can I get you anything else? I saw a box of energy bars over there.”

  “No, but thanks. Maybe later.”

  Harman moved to the far side of the room to answer a call, leaving the space between the tables open.

  She stood so close that Zach felt the warmth of her shoulder pressed against his upper arm.

  “I can’t even begin to imagine what she must be going through,” she whispered.

  He followed her gaze to Rose, forehead resting on her drawn-up knees. Summer’s shaky exhale drew his attention to her face. She looked a little rough around the edges, too. No surprise there, given her friendship with Alex.

  “And poor Alex. He must be terrified.” Tilting her head, she studied his face. “What about you?”

  “Other than feeling like a heel and a coward, I’m fine.”

  Her brow furrowed, so he tried to explain. “I know Rose is waiting for me to go talk to her. But I can’t. Not yet. She knows I used to volunteer with the Vail ski patrol, so she’ll ask what I think Alex’s chances are.”

  “What do you think his chances are?”

  Zach hung his head, unable to look into her big trusting eyes. “Like you, I can’t stop wondering what’s going through Alex’s mind,” he said. “If he’s conscious, that is. He’s probably hungry. Scared. Colder than he’s ever been. I know he’s a tough, capable kid, but this?” Zach expelled a heavy sigh. “Something like this would test the mettle of a battle-trained marine.”

  He glanced over at Rose, still huddled against the wall. “She’s probably too exhausted to even cry anymore. I don’t know how she’ll handle it if…” Alex was Rose’s whole world, had been since he was a toddler. If he couldn’t bring himself to complete the thought, Zach wondered how she would face a future without her boy.

  “I don’t want to get in the way,” Summer said, placing her hands on his crossed forearms. “So tell me how I can help.”

  “You’re helping more than you know, just by being here.”

  Tears glistened in her dark eyes. “If I ask you something, will you be honest with me?”

  She’d come so far in a few short months. What if hearing the worst about her young friend sent her in the opposite direction?

  “Rose needs us,” she said. “Both of us.”

  “I don’t know any more than you do, Summer, so—”

  “Were you ever involved in an avalanche search-and-rescue mission?”

  “I was. And twice,” he said through clenched teeth, “we found the missing skiers alive.” Zach hoped she wouldn’t ask how many times they hadn’t.

  She nodded. “If they can’t find Alex, who will break the news to Rose?”

  Her voice cracked on the words can’t and Alex.

  “We will, you and I.”

  “Good.” Another nod. “It won’t be easy, but she shouldn’t hear a thing like that from strangers.”

  Zach didn’t know whether it was the strength of her words or her determined stance and expression that made him choke up. Fortunately, she couldn’t see his traitorous tears because he’d given in to the impulse to wrap his arms around her.

  “Sorry, folks,” Harman said, looking more glum than before. “Search and rescue has pulled out all the stops—snowboards, snowmobiles, foot patrollers, dogs, helicopters, the whole nine yards. They’ve even gone off-piste, and still nothing.”

  “Piste?” Summer echoed.

  “The regular ski run,” Harman explained. “Meaning they’ve widened the search to the areas on both sides of the run.”

  Zach got the message, loud and clear. It was as if the mountain had thrown down the gauntlet, presenting the patrollers with a whole new set of challenges…on ungroomed, unmarked slopes. Being well-trained was more important now than ever, and the equipment—shovels, probes, ropes, first-aid kits, Recco reflectors—had better function properly. Not an easy feat with 30 mph wind gusts driving the mercury down into the single digits.

  Rose joined them. “I’ve tried being reasonable and patient,” she said, “but that hasn’t worked. I have a friend who’s a reporter. Maybe a little pressure from the media will light a fire under you people!”

  Her sudden switch from wounded kitten to ferocious cat stunned them all. Harman got hold of himself first.

  “My relief is due to arrive in a minute or two, and then I’m joining the search. We’ve got all our best guys out there, Mrs. Peterson, so—”

  “You need all the help you can get,” Zach said. “I’m going with you.”

  Summer led Rose back to the bench as Zach headed outside. On the way to his truck, he met Harman’s replacement, who’d just jumped off a high-performance mountain snowmobile. “You one of the dads?” the man asked, tugging off his snow-crusted mittens.

  There wasn’t time for questions and answers, so Zach cut to the chase. “Name’s Zach. I’m here for Alex Peterson.”

  The man never slowed. “I’m Andre,” he said. Using his thumb as a pointer, he directed Zach’s gaze north, and up, toward the unmistakable beam of a helicopter search light slicing through the predawn darkness.

  “Pilot just radioed. Might’ve spotted a light up on the Cirque.”

  The Cirque? Zach’s pulse pounded. “But Harman said they were skiing Sunnyside.”

  “You’d better hope they didn’t, ’cause we combed it and found diddly.”

  Zach had braved the Cirque. Once. Accessible only by foot, the double-black diamond, back-country terrain was intimidating, even to expert skiers. He’d kissed the snow at the bottom, knowing he’d been lucky to make it down without plowing into a tree.

  “Harman is going up next,” Zach told Andre. He pointed at the snowmobile. “Can that thing hold two with full gear?”

  “Bigfoot there can handle just about anything you throw at her.” And with that, he disappeared into the shack.

  If Zach was already outfitted when he joined them, maybe Harman wouldn’t give him any guff. Like most volunteers, Zach had paid for his own gear. Thankfully, he’d held on to it…and stowed it under the backseat of his pickup. He donned his down-filled pants and jacket, padded hat, insulated gloves and waterproof Gators. The team would provide maps, a headlamp, radio and transceiver. Everything else was already in his prepacked lightweight backpack: bivy sack, water and power bars, even a fire-starting kit.

  Harman’s eyes widened when Zach marched into the shed, pack slung over one shoulder. “What’s the holdup?” he asked. And meeting Andre’s eyes, he added, “Did you tell him about the chopper?”

  “He did,” Harman answered.

  Zach didn’t give him a chance to object. “I volunteered six seasons in Vail. Call Paul Medford if you need confirmation.”

  “No time for that, and you know it,” Harman growled. Shrugging into his own pack, he faced Andre. “Did you gas up Bigfoot?”

  “No, sir. Not yet.”

  Harman looked from Rose to Summer to Zach. “Better say your goodbyes, then, while I fill the tank.” He opened the door then paused. “Y’might wanna tell ’em if they aren’t already pr
aying, this would be a good time to start.”

  “Alex will be so glad to see a familiar face,” Rose said, hugging Zach.

  He nodded. “I’ll be glad to see him, too.”

  Summer’s dark, thick eyelashes had gone all spiky with tears. She held out her arms, and he stepped willingly into them.

  “You’d better be careful out there,” she said, and sent him on his way with a long, sweet kiss that gave him all the incentive he needed to come back whole and healthy.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  ONE BY ONE, the teens piled into waiting ambulances.

  Summer and Zach stood a few feet from the nearest emergency vehicle, watching as relieved and teary-eyed parents cried and hugged and gently scolded their kids.

  “Poor Alex,” Summer said.

  “Why? He’s cold and wet and scared, might have a touch of frostbite, but he’s fine!” Zach said.

  “After this, Rose will probably never let him out of her sight again.” She looked up at Zach.

  He nodded. “I see your point.”

  A reporter darted up, stuck a microphone near Alex’s mouth.

  “What was it like,” she asked him, “being lost out there on the mountain?”

  “What do you think it was like? It was cold.”

  “From the mouths of babes,” Summer whispered.

  “How did you guys get off-piste?” the newswoman wanted to know.

  Alex shrugged. “Lemmings.” The interviewer laughed into the mic as he added, “Somebody made a wrong turn, and like a bunch of dummies, the rest of us followed.”

  “One of the chaperones said you kids were supposed to ski Sunnyside. How’d you end up on the Cirque?”

  “Lemmings,” he said again. “After seeing it from the top, I’m kinda glad we got lost. I probably would have died of a heart attack before I got to the bottom. It’s like, trees, rocks, trees and more trees.”

  She smiled into the camera. “Note to self,” she told her audience. “Stay away from the Cirque!”

  The cameraman gave her a thumbs-up and bounced the camera up and down, as if nodding his agreement.