Stranded on Vail Mountain

by Desiree L. Scott

  Stephen shook his head and took his pack from her hands, setting it down at his feet before he straightened again.

  “Ready? I’m going to go first because the snow may not be packed yet, and I could fall to the ground and be buried, sort of,” he amended. “I’ll dig my way out and make sure there is a path to walk away from the cabin.”

  Fear glistened in her eyes, but she nodded, standing back as he brushed the glass out of the way and grabbed hold of the window seal. Straining, he managed to pull himself up through the window, sitting where the glass used to be. He stared out at the flat snow in front of him that was level with the window. It had been close. The avalanche had almost buried the cabin. They would have been buried alive.

  At the thought, Stephen tensed and jumped, the snow breaking his fall. He went down a few feet to where his head was level with the window. He stomped his feet, feeling the hard ground beneath him.

  Not bad.

  He worked on making the path towards the trees where the snow hadn’t had much of an impact. It was higher than it had been but was doable, passable. He made a few trips back and forth before walking back over to the window, pushing the snow out of the way with his boots.

  “Joan?” he called.

  “Yeah?”

  “Throw my bag out the window.”

  She tossed the bag out, and he caught it, putting it off to the side on the ground.

  He stared at the window, thinking of the best way to get her out. Decision made, he grabbed ahold of the window seal again. “Stand back! I’m coming in!” He pulled himself up and over, jumping back into the interior of the cabin with a grin.

  “Are you ready?”

  She looked from him to the window and back again before sighing. “Yeah, as I’ll ever be.”

  Motioning her closer, he took her by the waist and lifted her up. “Grab on and pull yourself up.”

  She did as instructed and grunted as he helped her, finally able to sit on the seal of the window and look down at the ground.

  “That doesn’t look too bad,” she muttered.

  “Now I want you to turn your upper body, holding the window, and twist so that you are facing me.”

  Nodding, she did and hung there for a second. Before he could instruct her further, she was on the ground, breathing heavily. Within another minute, he was beside her, having climbed out the window himself.

  “You okay?” he asked. “How’s your ankle?”

  “It hurts, but I’ll live.”

  “We’ll get there. Don’t worry.”

  With that, he snatched his pack from the ground, and they set off through the path he had cleared to the line of trees, stopping at the edge to look back at the cabin. It had been almost completely covered; the roof and that one window were all that peeked through the mound of snow.

  He shook his head. So close. He turned and looked down at Joan, at her jeans, blue sweater, and thick coat. It wasn’t the best attire to be wearing on the mountain, but it would have to do. They had miles to go before they made it back to headquarters and the resort.

  She nodded. “Let’s go.”

  Chapter 5

  Joan tried to hide her shivering, holding the top of the coat closed tightly as the wind seemed to pick up the farther they walked. Her legs ached, and her ankle was on fire. It was hard to walk through the large drifts of snow, but she didn’t want to complain. At the look of the cabin behind them, she knew it could have been a lot worse. Due to her stupid move, no matter how she looked at the situation of shoot at the cat or let Stephen get eaten, they should have been buried in that cabin. However, with luck and someone watching over them, they had made it out alive.

  She tried to smile at Stephen when he turned around to face her, his eyes scanning her movements. The smile probably looked pathetic, but she couldn’t help it. He led her forward, taking on the heavy leg plowing, for which she was grateful, but it didn’t make the zero temperatures any easier to handle. When he turned back around, she rubbed her gloved hands together, limping a little faster to catch up to him. She hated to be a burden. She knew he could have gone faster on his own, but with her ankle, a turtle pace was as fast as she could handle.

  Damn it. I’m such an idiot, she thought, thinking of the past twenty-four hours and the cause of all of this.

  No, he’s a fucking idiot, she amended, thinking of her husband and her ex best friend. They are BOTH fucking idiots.

  Sighing, she took another step and gasped as she fell forward, her knees landing on a soft mound with a grunt.

  Stephen ran over to her. “Are you okay?”

  Joan nodded and started to get up. As she used her arms to push her upper body away from the ground, she looked down as the snow gave way to something firm, yet soft.

  A scream built as a face appeared under the powered snow, and she met the sightless blue eyes of the man married.

  She didn’t feel Stephen’s arms come around her as he jerked her away and into his arms, trying to block the sight from her, but it was too late. The vision of her husband’s lifeless body buried beneath snow had been more than she could handle. With everything that had happened, the flood gates broke.

  Sobs shook her shoulders as she buried her head against Stephen’s neck, soon soaking his coat with her tears. He held her, gently rocking her as she cried.

  “Michael.” Over and over again, the name trembled from her lips as she buried her face against his chest.

  Finally quiet, they stayed locked together, his arms securely around her thin frame.

  Hiccups soon followed, and she pulled back. She tried to turn to look, but he stopped her, turning her back toward him. Staring down into her eyes, he caressed her trembling lips with his cold thumb before dropping his hand.

  Stephen couldn’t believe he was such a bastard as he dropped his hand.

  Now isn’t the fucking place, Brockheart!

  Disgusted with himself over that simple action, he pulled back slightly and withdrew emotionally. Joan needed a friend and a shoulder to cry on. Just because her husband had been a cheating bastard didn’t mean she hadn’t loved him.

  “Is that how you want to remember your husband?’ he asked her quietly, putting his own feelings aside.

  He saw her throat working as she struggled to swallow before meeting his eyes.

  She shook her head. “No,” she whispered into his shoulder.

  He tightened his hold on her, trying to warm her up as the shivers of both the cold and grief racked her body.

  “We have to continue. We have to go on.”

  Her head popped up, eyes wide and mouth open. Before she could form the words he could see about to explode out of her, he quickly interrupted with the logics of the mountain.

  “We have to get down before another storm hits. I’ll send someone up for him once it’s safe, Joan. I don’t have a choice. YOU are alive. You’re my top priority right now.”

  At his words, a tear fell, sliding down her red cheeks and dropping from her shaking chin as she nodded.

  “I know. Okay.”

  Keeping her face away from the sight they were leaving behind them, they continued down on the path, snow building around their thighs as they treaded farther down the mountain.

  Two hours later, Stephen was extremely concerned as he kept glancing back at Joan. She was quiet, her head bent as she limped behind him, her arms hugging her waist. She had rejected his gesture of carrying her, telling him she was fine, that she was going to make it under her own steam and no one else's.

  Respect had a time and place, but she was showing shear stubbornness in the face of her grief. The redness from her anguish faded, leaving her skin pale as the walk started to take its toll. He knew she was exhausted. Hell, he was exhausted, his legs heavy and aching from kicking the snow out of the way. But he was more experienced than she was, more conditioned for the mountains and weather. Not many people could live the life he did.

  They hadn’t talked much since leaving the cabin, but th
ere wasn’t much to say in the way of chitchat, not when they were focused on moving as quickly as possible.

  He thought he heard something up ahead and jerked to a stop. Joan, her head still bent, hit his back with a slight grunt.

  “What is the”

  “Shhhhh.” Interrupting her, he cocked his head and strained to listen.

  Could it be?

  Voices drifted up to him, and one very familiar voice made a grin stretch across his cold face.

  “Stephen!” a voice called.

  Hot damn!

  “We’re over here!” he shouted.

  He looked down at Joan’s pale face. “My boss. He’s found us.”

  Stephen would have to remember to thank his boss with everything in him. He hadn’t admitted it, but he had been getting concerned, wondering if he had somehow managed to get turned around and was going in the wrong direction. Now with his boss and the search party below, they were on their way home. Well, he was. He shot a quick look at Joan’s red eyes and felt his heart constrict. With the headquarters so close, he was about to lose her and any chance of more time.

  You can’t lose something you never had, he thought, his throat tight at the thought of never seeing her again. He had only known her for twenty-four hours, but it had felt like a lot longer.

  Sighing, he didn’t understand how he could feel so strongly about her in that length of time. And to make matters worse, Joan had never given him any hint as to what she felt. He really didn’t know anything about her besides the fact that he lo…

  No. Fuck no. He wasn’t going there. It didn’t make sense. It was crazy to even suggest…

  Shaking the train of thoughts from his mind, Stephen looked over at Joan. Her face reflected the relief he felt at knowing help was so close.

  “Let’s head down, and I’ll let him know about Michael.”

  At the mention of her husband, her eyes dimmed again. He hated to see the joy disappear, but he had to say something to keep his emotions in check and to remind himself that for all intents and purposes, she was taken. First by marriage and now by grief.

  Life could be a cruel bitch, he thought, heading towards the search party with Joan following closely behind.

  Chapter 6

  Joan hated to be carried, but they hadn’t given her a choice in the matter. Strapped to a carrier, two men pulled her toward the resort. The lights from the buildings were a beacon, but even that sight couldn't thaw her heart or emotions of surviving, not with her husband back on the mountain. There was another blizzard on the way, and there wasn't time to retrieve his body before it hit. Her eyes dry, the small group made it to the courtyard, and Joan started to stand up from the stretcher, but the man beside her, his face covered by a mask, shook his head.

  “Medical room.”

  “I don’t need”

  Stephen held up his gloved hand. “Procedure. No choice, Joan.”

  Stephen jumped up ahead and held the door open for them, shooting Joan a look of concern. She knew he was worried, but it couldn’t be helped. She just wanted to be left alone to grieve in her own way. Her marriage hadn’t been the best, the bastard cheating on her with her best friend, but she had still loved him.

  Escaping to an empty room had been the plan, but with the insistence on taking her to a medical room and Stacy blocking their way, that plan went straight out the window.

  “Where’s Michael?” she demanded. Sweeping her tangled hair away from her wide, bloodshot eyes, she searched the group frantically.

  Join the club, Joan thought. Having been friends since they were little girls, Joan knew the pain of the betrayal would hit her hard later, but right then, she couldn’t feel shit, and she was thankful for it.

  Her throat tight, Joan struggled to breathe past the urge to cry. Stacy never blinked on seeing Joan on a stretcher as she glared down at her.

  “Where is he? Where’s Michael?”

  Suddenly, she saw Stephen move to the side of her, but he wasn’t looking at her. He was glaring at Stacy, his forehead pulled down into a scowl.

  “You are in the fucking way,” he growled, his eyes narrow. “Move!”

  Stacy stumbled back, shocked at the big man, but the men took the fast chance to skirt around her. She probably looked like a train wreck. She hadn’t really slept in two days, not to mention bathing. She just wanted the freedom of silence, of grief, and wanted to be left alone.

  I’m not getting that yet, she thought, sighing as they entered a small room in the back, first aid kits on the walls. The medical room.

  She felt Stephen following beside her, but they didn’t talk.

  The on call doctor quickly checked her over, and before long, she was allowed to limp towards the stairs, crutches beneath her arms. Stephen behind her, she painfully made it up the stairs, and she saw Stephen’s arm in front of her push a door open. Once inside, she looked around.

  A bedroom. It was a beautiful room with a mountain view. The queen size bed brought tears to her eyes, tears she had refused to shed, but suddenly, a flood opened, a flood she couldn’t contain.

  Great racking sobs shook her, and she felt his arms come around her, holding her as she cried. Everything hit her. Falling, the blizzard, the avalanche, finding Michael in the snow, frozen, and…

  She stiffened and jerked back, the tears coming faster.

  “Oh my God.” Barely able to breathe, she brought a fist to her open mouth.

  “What? What is it?” Stephen asked, trying to hold her again.

  Pulling completely away, she stumbled over to the bed where she collapsed on the soft mattress. Her heart pounded with a realization that brought the pain of everything right to the top.

  “It was my fault,” she whispered, nearly choking on the grief that tightened her throat.

  Stephen sat down beside her, keeping a few inches between them, almost as if he was afraid to touch her, afraid she would shatter at the first contact.

  “What was your fault?”

  “Michael’s death. It was all my fault.”

  She pressed her fist tighter against her mouth, the tears falling faster. She started to rock back and forth, Michael’s sightless eyes flashing through her mind.

  “Joan, talk to me. How was it your fault?”

  Shaking her head, she struggled to talk, her breathing coming in short bursts. “The gunshot, the avalanche. He was looking for me, and the avalanche…”

  She couldn’t finish as the sobs shook her, making talking impossible and breathing hard.

  Stephen cursed and grabbed her, pulling her tightly into his arms. She stiffened and tried to jerk back, but the grief was too much. She didn’t have anything else. She slumped against him and buried her head against his broad chest as she cried. She cried for what had been, what was, and what could have been.

  Stephen didn’t say a word. He just held her and let her cry.

  Finally, her tears subsided, and she pulled back slowly. She took the tissue Stephen handed her and blew her nose, missing the small grin from Stephen.

  She sat there for a moment, staring down at the brown carpet at her feet. “We had our problems,” she said softly. “We started to fight a lot. He was always gone and…” She trailed off thinking of the past, of their problems that now seemed so small and insignificant.

  Stephen sat quietly beside her, just letting her talk.

  “We dated in high school and then later fell in love.” Taking a deep breath, she straightened and wiped her eyes, blowing her nose one last time and drawing another smile from Stephen.

  Sighing, she stood up and limped over to the large window, staring out towards the mountains, towards Michael and his final battle with nature. “He had loved to hike, loved the mountains,” she said quietly. “Normally, he would have bitched about taking time off work, but I knew he wouldn’t say no to the resort. Well, I thought I knew,” she finished bitterly, thinking of Stacy and their affair behind her back. Although they had their problems, she had gone about her life
thinking they were doing okay. Meanwhile, her husband and her best friend had been having an affair. She still couldn’t get over that, even after everything that had happened. Her eyes burned, but she blinked furiously, determined not to cry anymore. She didn’t have anything left to give.

  She had been numb, unable to feel the full agony of her injuries, but just then, that numbness started to fade as the fire returned, and she flinched, putting all of her weight on her good leg.

  Stephen, spying her pain and hearing her small gasp, jumped up and disappeared into a bathroom. Walking out, he carried a small glass and something in his palm.

  “Here. Take these pills. Aspirin. It will help.”

  She didn’t argue and downed the pills and water.

  “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome. I’ll leave you alone for a bit. Holler if you need anything.”

  She didn’t respond to that and kept her head bent as she heard the door close. Finally, she lifted her head to an empty room. For a moment, she felt alone as if the world didn’t care. A tear escaped, and she brushed it off angrily.

  Damn it. I was the one who wanted him to leave!

  She let her head fall back to the bed and closed her eyes.

  She just wanted to go home. Not that she had much to return to, but it was better than being trapped with her dead husband’s lover while Michael’s dead body lay on the mountain.

  Stephen walked down the staircase to the first floor and headed for the office in the back of the building. Protocol was to debrief on first arriving from a rescue mission and to write up his report, but given the situation, his boss had understood and given him some leeway.

  Halfway to his destination, he spied the woman, Stacy, on the couch beside the fire, her slender legs drawn up to her chest and her arms around her knees. The small sitting room was in the middle of the building, and he would have to go through it to get to the office. Lips tight, he started to walk straight through, ignoring her, when her sobs reached him.