“So on the east side of the mountains the rivers flow to the Gulf of Mexico and the Atlantic.” Carter scratched the hairy stubble on his face. With the morning sunlight streaming through the windshield, it made a strange orange halo around his chin. “But on the west side, the water flows to the Pacific.”
“Weirdness.” Tony sipped his Gatorade, contemplating the mysteries of geology.
“So you’ve been up here before?” Matt asked Carter, who drove as though he was eighty years old and legally blind. Slow, yet disturbingly aggressive. But it was a narrow highway with U-turn switchbacks, so Matt decided speed was not a plus in this situation.
“Oh yeah,” Carter said. “Just last weekend with Sid and my sister, but we hung out on the bunny hills. Not like what Dylan’s got planned.”
“Bunny hills? Really?”
“Yeah, at Old Terrain Park. The place used to be an actual ski resort.”
“But it’s not anymore?”
“They closed it down about ten years ago,” Carter said. “Took all the lifts and signs and stuff down, so now it’s totally wild again.”
“Wild?” Matt tried not to sound nervous, but Carter’s driving made him want to shut his eyes and hum. Instead, he grabbed the dashboard when Carter slammed his brakes as a herd of deer galloped across the highway, flew over a ditch, and disappeared into the pines.
“Whoa,” Tony said. “That is wild.”
“Saw a bear out here once,” Carter told them. “But that was last summer when I was hiking up in Estes. She had two cubs with her, and I thought I was going to bite it that time.”
“What happened?”
“I backed up real slow, sat down, and pulled my jacket over my head,” Carter said grimly. “Thankfully she ran off with her cubs.”
“That’s amazing.” Tony laughed.
“Didn’t feel amazing when it happened. Just felt terrifying.”
They drove on, the van groaning up the road, until after a few more miles the ground leveled out. Ahead, a large brown building came into view, an oval parking lot on one side of the highway.
“There’s the base lodge.” Carter turned into the lot, and Matt counted ten cars, mostly SUVs and the all-popular Subarus. The air was cold and clear, but the sun, now fully up, was promising warmth. The sky was the dictionary definition of the word blue—perfect skiing weather. For the first time in a week Matt felt something that reminded him of happiness.
“Tony! Matt!” Sid waved. “C’mon and get your stuff!”
Twenty minutes later, outfitted with poles, boots, and bindings, they stared up at a hill of snow. Not a mountain, Matt realized, but a hill. A very steep one. Technically they were already in the mountains; they were surrounded by them, the peaks rising and falling away into the horizon like giant mounds of whipped cream. The hill ahead was clear of trees, but thick green swaths of pine fanned down on either side, defining a wide alley of snow in the middle. That was what Matt could not get over: the sheer amount and depth of the snow, the brightness of it, so white and dazzling he had to pull down his goggles to prevent blindness. He took great gulps of the thin air, trying to get the oxygen to his muscles as fast as possible. He was going to need all the help he could get.
“Okay,” Sid said, “let’s take a practice hike up. Get used to the skins.”
“Got it.” Dylan, Leah, Carter, and Julie had already started up, and Sid followed in the track they’d made. Matt thought it felt similar to all the other times he skied cross-country, and in a few steps the glide came back. Sid was right about the snow—the skis floated, not scraping on slushy ice. It was as smooth as talcum powder. The green nylon skins hooked onto the tip and tail of his skis, covering the bottoms, reminding Matt of thin pieces of nubby carpet. And to his surprise, they did work, preventing him from backsliding as he climbed. But it was still exhausting. Within a minute he was sweating. After five minutes he realized the hill was much longer than it looked. His thighs burned; so did his calves. Forget it, Matt thought. This was not at all like cross-country, and it certainly wasn’t easier with the gear he carried on his back like a pack mule.
“Good God,” Tony grunted behind him. “I thought this was supposed to be fun.”
“We’re out of shape,” Matt wheezed the obvious, his head pounding with every pulse of blood. He leaned on his poles, and even though he inhaled as fast as he could, it felt useless. His lungs shuddered and burned as though he was drowning. Hot, sharp stabs radiated through his back—tiny knives of fire poking under his rib cage. He was in no way ready for this. “Now I know what it feels like to have asthma.”
Tony struggled up next to him, panting like a dog. Sid glanced back, apologetic. “We’re over eleven thousand feet right now.” Sweat gleamed on his forehead. “I forget what it’s like the first time up here.”
“What it’s like is that it totally sucks.” Tony coughed.
“Just a bit more.” Sid pointed his pole to the ridgeline where everyone was already camped out, waiting for them. “It will be worth it on the way down, I swear.”
Matt nodded, too weak to argue. They were more than halfway up, so they might as well keep going. Ba da dum strum strum. A banjo tune vibrated against his leg. Cell phone. Text message from his dad. The first time in over a week he had heard anything from him. Considering the last conversation they’d had, Matt figured his dad wanted a cooling off period.
He felt his anger return as he climbed. Of course his father would text right at the moment when Matt had stopped thinking about him and what he had told him over the phone, the real reason he wasn’t going to be in Florida, the reason his mother already knew about but Tony and Sid did not. Matt knew they would find out eventually. After all, his mom was still good friends with the Jains. But he didn’t think he could tell Tony. For some reason, he was afraid if he did he would start crying. And now his father was texting him. Like he had some weird sixth sense. Somehow he knew Matt was having fun—if you can call climbing up a mountain of snow fun—and it was his mission to ruin it.
“Dammit,” he exhaled, not wanting to check his phone. Not yet. He figured if he stopped now he’d fall over. The phone repeated its banjo strum once more, but Matt ignored it. Instead, he concentrated on moving forward, moving up, mimicking Sid’s motions. Head down, knees bent, shoulders loose, right foot, left foot. Glide, glide, inhale, exhale.
When they arrived at the summit Matt felt like someone who’d just got punched in the kidneys. His legs were a quivering mess of exhausted muscle. If he fell down now he figured he’d never get back up.
“Ooof!” Tony did fall down, splaying out into a drift like he’d been shot in the back. “That was NOT a bunny hill.”
“That’s because you climbed it.” Dylan laughed. “Don’t worry. You guys did good. Most newbies take a lot longer.” He glanced back at Carter, Julie, Leah, and Sid. “Isn’t that right, Carter?”
“You know it.” Carter smiled, appearing less like he’d just hiked the same route and more like he’d ridden a gondola to the top. “It took months before I got used to it.”
“That doesn’t make me feel much better,” Matt said. His eyes were pounding so hard he was afraid they might pop. He pulled out his bottle of water and drank half, hoping that would ease the hammering in his head.
“Maybe that will.” Carter gestured to the view in front of them. “Not bad!”
When Matt’s heart rate dropped to somewhere near normal, his vision cleared and he raised his head. It was endless—a sea of blue and white before him. An ocean in the sky. The immensity of it gripped him with the dizzying effect of being unable to sense where the Earth ended and the sky began. It was beautiful.
But terrifying. A pressing white noise filled the space around him now that everyone had gone silent, a roar the mountains made. Matt felt like he was ten years old again, seeing the ocean for the first time, watching the relentless waves pound the rocks. Only one thought surfaced:
I am a little speck of nothing.
&nb
sp; “Take it in!” Dylan’s laugh was a boom, echoing across the ridge. “The mountains are calling and I must go!”
“John Muir,” Matt said, trying not to gasp.
“Awesome.” Dylan smiled, seeming like the type who used the word awesome a lot. And meant it. “You even know John Muir.”
“This kid’s one of those quotable weirdoes,” Tony explained. “Has a giant quote book with everything in it. Nerd memorized them all.”
“Oh yeah?” Leah asked him, curious. She pushed her goggles up her forehead; her cheeks wore matching pink splotches and her mouth was a deeper slash of crimson, shining with cherry ChapStick. Like her brother, she appeared unfazed by the climb, and she watched Matt curiously, seemingly unmoved by the view. Matt guessed she’d seen it many times. “How about this: I am so clever that sometimes I don’t understand a single word of what I am saying.”
“That one’s easy,” Matt said, knowing the answer immediately. “Oscar Wilde.” Oscar Wilde had several pages of quotes in his giant quote book, and every one of them had been a winner.
Leah laughed. “Well, color me impressed.”
“Which way do we go now?” Tony asked, stripping off the nylon skins and rolling them up. Matt sat down next to him and did the same, popping them off in quick succession.
“We go down the other side.” Carter adjusted his goggles and pulled his hat down over his ears, which looked as red as his hair. “End up at the little bowl off to the right.” He glanced at Dylan, who agreed. “We’ll take that first marked trail east to the second ridge.” Then Carter dug in his poles, shoved off, and vanished into the white. Dylan, Julie, and Sid followed, cutting wide, swooping arcs into the snow.
“Well, okay then.” Tony needed no more hints. “See you at the bottom, dude.”
Matt balanced his ski tips over the edge and watched the rest of them fly down the hill. It was disconcerting, he finally realized, because he was looking for flags, for signs, for some sort of marker to tell him where to go. But there were none.
“Are you ready, Matt?” Leah stood next to him, tucking her red curls down the back of her parka.
“I think so.” He gripped his poles and pushed down, lifting the skis up with a step forward. He hesitated slightly as he followed Tony’s trail, wondering how to avoid rocks and trees and God knows what else that could be hiding below the surface. All the white was a glare, messing with his depth perception, starting a trickle of panic in his limbs. He turned sharply, making a thick gust of powder, which only blew back in his face. He knew he was going slow, but he was intimidated about which track to follow. Still, it was fun, and a million times better than the climb up.
“You’re doing it wrong!” Leah shouted, swooping past him. She waved her pole to stop.
“What?” Matt slid to a halt. He thought he was skiing down a mountain—how was he doing it wrong?
“You’re following Tony’s line.”
“I’m not supposed to? I don’t want to hit anything.”
“You won’t,” Leah explained, shaking her head. “The snow is deep. Really deep.”
“I don’t know. . . .” Matt looked at the trees off to the side. How deep could it be?
“The whole point of this is to go where no one’s gone before.”
“That’s a Star Trek quote,” Matt informed her.
“Exactly.” Leah grinned, and with that grin Matt felt his heart squeeze a little harder. She smiled at him the way he’d always hoped a pretty girl would. Like he was the only person in the universe. “So let’s boldly go where no one has. It’ll be great, I promise.”
He watched the track she left as she continued down, the movement downright hypnotic, and after a few seconds he followed, skiing next to the trail she made but not in it.
She was right. He seemed to float above the snow, almost hovering, and for the next twenty seconds he flew, hearing nothing but the schuss of drifts around him, even forgetting that every single muscle in his legs had been worked to the point of combustion.
And then he was down, carving sharply right, digging in the edges to a tight hockey stop. Twenty minutes up and two minutes to the bottom.
“Now that’s what I’m talking about!” Dylan hooted with glee, slapping his gloves together in a proud smack.
“What?”
“Your face, man!”
“My face?” Matt’s face hurt, and he touched his glove to his cheek, wondering if he got smacked by something and didn’t notice. “What’s wrong with it?”
“Absolutely nothing,” Carter said. “But you’re grinning like an idiot.”
“Oh.” That’s why his cheeks hurt. From smiling. He hadn’t done that in a while.
“Dude! That was the sweetest ride,” Tony exclaimed. “Better than sex.”
“Not if you’re doing it right,” Sid deadpanned, and Julie laughed knowingly. Everyone did, even Tony, who as far as Matt knew was still a complete virgin. Just like he was. He finally pulled out his phone. Two texts from his dad. Great.
Call me back!
Need to talk to u!
Of course, thought Matt, now he wants to talk. He held the phone up, but there wasn’t a strong signal, and the last text he’d sent was yesterday afternoon to let his mother know he arrived. He typed another one to both of them.
Ski today. Berthoud Pass. Fun!
That should be enough information. He typed a separate text to his dad.
Ok. Will call L8R.
There, he thought, turning off his phone to save the battery. Let him sit around and wait for a change.
“Think the newbies can handle Current Creek?” Carter asked.
“Think so.” Dylan nodded.
“Where’s that?” Tony asked. The downhill run seemed to have recharged him. He no longer looked exhausted and hungover.
“There.” Sid pointed over Tony’s head at the line of mountains a few miles in the distance.
“North and west, my newbies.” Dylan held up his GPS. “The magic numbers to the cabin are thirty-nine degrees, fifty-one minutes, forty-four seconds north; one hundred and five degrees, fifty-three minutes, and twenty-nine seconds west.”
“What does that even mean?” Julie leaned back on her poles, scanning the horizon. “Sounds like we’re searching for buried treasure.”
“Don’t really know,” Dylan said. “But I’m ready to find out.”
THE HUNTER
Location: Seven miles northeast of the ski group
The cat, like the old saying, was curious. It was early and the morning air was heavy with scent. Bark and leaf and stone. Ice and snow. Fur and feather. One scent in particular turned its head, an aroma the animal had never smelled before. Wet wool, something chemical and foreign, but also the pungent whiff of sweat and body heat. Another animal.
The lion was young, rangy and lean, only its third spring in the mountains. It was also hungry. One small rabbit the day before had not offered much of a meal, and the cat huffed the breeze deeply, mouth open, tasting the air. There was something out there, and the cat switched directions, turning west against the morning light. It did not take long for it to find the tracks this strange new animal left, and it quickened its pace through the trees, finally on the hunt.
MATT
Location: Ridge west of Current Creek
Elevation: 11,500 feet
“How you doing, Matt?” Dylan unzipped his pack, digging around for his lunch.
“Better,” he huffed, easing himself down onto a drift next to Tony, who was already devouring his sandwich. “Much better.” The morning had passed quickly, and now the sun was so warm that if he closed his eyes and tilted his face up, he would swear he was on a beach somewhere, not surrounded by ice. He tried not to look at Tony’s food; his stomach growled in protest.
“You guys are naturals,” Dylan added. “Good form.”
“This elevation is kicking my butt, though.”
“Yeah. Drink more water.” Dylan handed him a banana, two turkey-and-Swiss sub sa
ndwiches, and a bag of chips. “We’ll take it easy for the rest of the afternoon.” He checked his GPS and squinted. “We’re only about a mile or two from the cabin now.”
“Good.” Matt exhaled, trying not to rip into the bag of chips like a wild dog. In the past year he had given up junk food, but reasoned it was okay if he was on vacation. Plus, he’d gone up and down mountains all morning. Surely one bag of chips wouldn’t send him back into a downward spiral of hoarding food under his bed. He wasn’t twelve anymore. He had some self-control. “Thanks,” he said, forcing the thought away. “I’m starving.”
“No kidding!” Tony added, licking the salt from the inside of his chip bag. “I don’t know the last time I’ve ever been that hungry.” He crumpled the bag, and along with his banana peel, shoved all the garbage into the empty sub wrapper and wadded it into a ball. “At least, not since this morning.”
“All the fresh air, I bet.” Dylan laughed and tromped away. Matt shook his head, undid his bindings, and wiggled his toes around in his boots. He ate the banana first, letting it melt on his tongue, then moved on to the chips. He ate each one slowly, thin wafers dissolving into salt in his mouth. Nothing had ever tasted this good before, and all too soon, the bag was empty.
The sun was hot at this elevation, bright and insistent. Rays of light glittered off the snow pack like a field of diamonds. They were perched on a ridgeline a few hundred yards above the trees, and from this vantage point Matt felt like he was on Mount Olympus, looking down on all the mortals below. The only mortal thing he saw was the dark outline of a bird coming down for a landing in the treetops. Even from this distance it looked large. An eagle.
Despite reminding himself to take his time, he demolished the first sandwich in five bites. Thirsty, he scooped a wad of snow into his mouth, which tasted like copper or some tarnished metal, sweet with minerals. To him it was delicious, and he guessed it was about as clean as water gets.
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