“Maybe, but I’m in no shape to ski towing a sled. I don’t have your strength, and my skiing muscles are out of condition. I don’t trust myself with Pam on this incline. But without the weight of the sled, I can easily stay on my feet and blaze a trail.”
“You lead, I follow? I don’t like it.”
“Neither do I, but at least this way if I make a mistake, Pam won’t suffer because of it.”
“Lindsey—”
“We don’t have time to argue! I’m getting cold just standing here.”
Eric swore. Lindsey ignored his temper as she took off her snowshoes and switched them for skis. He helped her remove the backpack. Then he lashed it to the sled, along with his pack and the rifle. The removal of the excess weight felt heavenly to her overtaxed muscles. She quickly substituted new poppers for the cooler ones inside her gear and in Pam’s sleeping bag.
“Thanks,” she sighed. She watched Eric fiddle with his radio unit as he attempted to reach the cabin. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing, but static,” he said with disgust. “If we can’t get through to them at this height, we never will.”
“Try again after you put on your poles and skis,” she suggested.
The result of the second radio attempt was the same. “We can’t stand here any longer. Let’s go.”
After a final check on Pam to adjust her blankets and straps and offer a reassuring word, Lindsey straightened. “I guess I’m ready.”
Eric maneuvered close to her. “Turn on your locator beacon. I’ve turned on mine. Just to be safe.”
She complied. “I know we won’t need them,” she said firmly.
Taking her face in his gloved hands, he kissed her full on the mouth. “For luck,” he said.
Lindsey didn’t return the sentiment. “Did you request me as a replacement or not?” She had a driving need to know.
“I never said I did.”
“I’m asking, anyway.”
“Tell you when we reach the bottom. Let’s get going.”
“I’m gone.” She deftly poled her way toward the incline. The top of the pass had hard-packed snow from the harshness of the winds—the same winds that consistently prevented helicopter flight—but the bowl beneath them was covered with the newly fallen powder, which lay over its harder snow. Different temperatures produced a layered effect—hence the avalanche danger. Heavier snow, such as a layer that had melted a little in the sun, then frozen at night, would mix with fresh snow. The various layers built up and up until gravity disturbed the delicate balance. The loose powder provided a moving, sliding plane for the more solidified layers. When one layer sheered away from another, it tended to have a chain effect on the others—like sheets of snow falling from a roof, but over and over and over again until the whole roof—or mountainside—reached stability again.
Lindsey was an excellent powder skier, but skiing prowess meant nothing in these shifting slabs of snow. She cautiously tested her balance and began with slow, easy movements. This was no time for overconfidence, let alone hotdogging. Without her added burden of pack and torch, she made fair progress, only a bit clumsy in the darkness. If she took her time and was very careful, they would all reach the bottom, none the worse for the wear. Eric shone the light ahead for her, then followed.
He’d attached the sled to himself with a body harness and long leads, since—unlike earlier, when he wore snowshoes—he needed ski poles to negotiate. His S-shaped descent was even slower than Lindsey’s. He couldn’t allow the sled to run into his skis or upset on its own at the end of each turn. He ended each traverse down by skiing off the powder at the end of the bowl, and waited inside the relative safety of the trees and rocks at the edge while Lindsey descended some more.
Time passed with agonizing intensity. The three picked their way down the shallower edge of the bowl, where the snow wasn’t as heavy as it was in the center.
Only now the shallower edge of the bowl turned into rocky ledges and outcroppings for a good two hundred feet. They’d have to enter the deeper curve of the decline—and hence the deeper area of the bowl—to clear the rocks.
Lindsey stopped her progress, and allowed Eric to catch up to her. “We’ve got problems,” she said, staring at the snow and wishing it was warm San Diego sand. “Look at these rocks!”
“My turn to lead,” Eric said immediately.
“No. I told you before, I can’t handle skiing and towing the sled. Pam’s safer with you.”
“I—”
“Don’t argue. You know I’m right.”
“I hate it when you’re right. Keep as close to the edge of the bowl as the rocks allow. If you hear anything suspicious, head for the downside of the bigger rocks and hunker down. Let the snow shoot over you.”
Lindsey studied the rocks. The granite blocks and rounded stones from the last glacier age didn’t look like much protection to her. If they moved, she could easily be crushed. She started to state the obvious, then realized she’d only be stalling.
“Is your beeper working okay?” he asked.
Lindsey checked the test light on her jacket’s locator beacon. “Yep. Yours?”
“Yes.” He paused. “Be careful…take your time.”
She nodded, adjusted her ski poles and slowly glided past the rocky edges of the bowl and into the deeper snow. Ever so gingerly, Lindsey carved out a path with an extremely shallow rate of descent. Eric watched from the edge, then followed, the sound of the flat-bottomed sled scraping against the top layer of snow and echoing strangely in the bowl. They made it safely past the first set of rocks, rested on the side above the second, and started again.
Lindsey slipped, but managed to right herself before she fell. She forced herself to relax muscles she’d tightened in concentration, and negotiated the second set of rocks without further incident. Eric followed and again joined her. Together they studied the third and last obstacle—this set of rocks was even taller and nastier than the other two. The only consolation was that once they were past these rocks, they’d be almost at the bottom of the pass. Which meant helicopter rescue for Pam.
“You know what they say. Third time’s the charm,” Eric said. She noticed the hoarseness of his voice and knew it wasn’t just from the cold or fatigue.
She leaned forward and kissed him, repeating his earlier words. “For luck.” Then she was off.
The snow felt dicey below her skis as soon as she left Eric and Pam and the safety of the bowl’s edge. Her skis sank through powdery layers and sliced into harder, icier layers below, her ski edges cutting into ice with a harsh grating sound. Worse, more boulders loomed, their rounded tops high above the snowpack, and she was forced to move deeper into the bowl to avoid them.
The sudden crack of what sounded like a rifle shot caught her by surprise. She was facing directly away from the boulders. From above came the groaning of thousands of pounds of snow beginning to move, at first slowly, then picking up speed at an ever-increasing pace.
Lindsey’s horrified mind recoiled from the truth and refused to trust in her hearing, but that was only for an instant. Then instinct took over, instinct for survival. Lindsey pushed off for greater speed than ever before, and headed straight down the incline. Her muscles, now responding perfectly in an adrenaline-heightened state, followed her commands as she raced down through the snow. Her life hung in the balance, and Lindsey realized with the calm, detached logic that appears in times of great stress, that decisions had to be made—and quickly, because seconds were all she had. The slide was gaining on her; the roaring in her ears had increased with terrifying intensity to that of a runaway freight train, except that trains never reached hundreds of miles per hour, like this snow. There was no way she could get to the bottom of the slope before the snow got to her.
She had to aim for a clear section below the boulders and ski back up the side of the bowl. She wanted to live! But was it possible? Already her overtaxed muscles were trembling from the extra demands being made upon them. She ski
ed too fast for comfort, for balance, and a fall now would mean certain death. The wind whipped past her face as she crouched as low as possible, offering the least wind resistance for the highest amount of speed. She silently prayed “Please, Lord,” the only prayer she had time for as the end of the boulders approached.
All her concentration was focused on her muscles, willing them control, willing them not to collapse and fail. She watched for the end of the boulders, and as the final granite edge confirmed it, Lindsey prepared herself. At the last possible moment, she leaned in to negotiate the deep powder turn to safety. Lindsey could have cheered aloud as she successfully managed the turn; she was shooting up the bowl’s inclined side, higher and higher. Her joy vanished as she felt the huge gust of wind on the backs of her legs from the approaching mass of snow. She dared not turn around and look, but she knew the snow was almost upon her.
Faster! she prayed as her uphill progress to the safety at the base of the rocks began to ebb due to loss of momentum and gravity. Just a little faster, a little farther! And then she was at granite. Lindsey dug her ski edges into the snow, the metal rasping, biting into the crusty surface of the wind-swept bluff. Before she could stop, a wall of force hit her in the back and knocked her flat, covering her with icy darkness.
Her safety bindings released and her poles straps snapped around her wrist during her forward momentum. Lindsey was flipped onto her back, her hat and one glove ripped from her body. She immediately thrust her hands before her face, cupping them and making an air pocket while she still had the chance. She waited to be tumbled, rolled and broken into bits. Instead, with a sudden jerking motion, her body ground to a halt. Lindsey lay still, winded and drained, as she listened to the roar of the slide. It filled her head and shook the ground with tremors of power. And then there was only silence.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Rangers’ winter cabin, 4:00 a.m.
“NAOMI, STOP TRYING the radio,” Keith said, resting on the couch, but upright and dressed. “You’re only wasting the batteries.”
“Since Eric and Lindsey haven’t answered me, I’m not wasting batteries,” Naomi said, worried. “I hope nothing’s gone wrong.”
“With those two?” Keith asked incredulously. “Your brother’s a tank, and Lindsey seems to have more than her share of luck. If they don’t have Pam in a hospital by now, they’re damn close to it.”
“From your mouth to God’s ear,” she said fervently. “But why haven’t they called? Why can’t we reach them?”
“Maybe the problem’s at this end.”
“You already checked the radio. And you tested the batteries. What else could it be?” Naomi wondered.
“We didn’t check the antenna.”
“When it’s light, I’ll go look,” Naomi said, playing with the radio again, then stopping. “You don’t think the antenna’s blown down, do you?”
“Wouldn’t be the first time. If it has, I can’t get up there to fix it.”
“Maybe I could…”
Keith shook his head. “You’d be a clear target for a man with a rifle.”
“But what if it is the antenna?” Naomi asked. “What are we going to do?”
“We keep warm—and wait.”
LINDSEY OPENED HER MOUTH to take in a gulp of air, and succeeded. She felt snow in her hair, and hoped her fingers wouldn’t get frostbitten. She hoped the snow hadn’t torn the diamond from the setting of Wade’s ring. Once she got home she intended to give it back to him, preferably intact. Maybe then she and Eric could find some kind of middle ground. The ridiculousness of her concerns—definitely minor concerns in her present situation—almost made her laugh out loud. But the blackness of her prison didn’t allow for laughing. Panic attacked her, but she fought it off. Instead, she did the things all potential avalanche victims were taught to do.
She moved her hands from her face, pressing the snow away from her mouth to allow herself more air. That action alone heartened her. If she’d been buried deeply, she wouldn’t have been able to shift the snow; the sheer weight would have immobilized her.
Next she tried to move her legs. They shifted just a bit, but she couldn’t lift them. The same applied when she tried to sit up. However, she could move her arms, another encouraging sign. Although she was buried, it appeared that her race for the side of the bowl had placed her in the shallower part of the slide. She still breathed easily; the snow wasn’t packed into the consistency of ice or wet beach sand, which meant oxygen might be able to permeate to her layers.
The next step would determine her further actions. First she worked up a ball of saliva in her mouth. Then she turned her head sideways. Slowly, cautiously, so as not to inhale snow, she opened her mouth and let the saliva drool down the side of her face. She noted the downward track gravity imposed on the liquid, and mentally established up, down and her horizontal plane. She needed to dig toward the surface with the truest perpendicular she could. All rangers had read of victims trapped in shallower depths who’d lost their sense of direction in the blackness. They had panicked, and dug sideways or even downward, instead of toward the surface. It was just as easy as losing your bearing in water; there you blew air bubbles to navigate. Trapped in snow, you spit out saliva. The warmth of the liquid against the cold of your face would tell the story, if you kept your head. But nothing could save her from the weighty, pressing darkness.
Don’t panic. Stay calm. You aren’t in deep, or you couldn’t move. You have a locator beacon, and Eric saw your last location.
With her one gloved hand still keeping a protective air pocket and shelter over her mouth, she slowly maneuvered her bare hand to the correct perpendicular position in the heavy snow. With scratching, clawing motions, she began to dig toward what she hoped would be the surface.
AT THE SOUND OF THE rifle-shot crack of snow and ice sheering away, Eric had screamed Lindsey’s name at the top of his voice. Then, despite skis and poles, he’d thrown himself over Pam’s sled, his body protecting the child. They were out of the snowslide’s main path, but the overspill’s sudden wind and snow spray could buffet them at the edges of the bowl; the furious pocket of air created by the massive displacement could reach hundreds of miles an hour. Eric couldn’t ski himself and Pam to safety. Unlike Lindsey, they were in the safest position they could be at the time, as long as they stayed prone.
After what seemed like an eternity, but wasn’t even a full minute, the sound of the freight train stopped. He lifted himself to his hands and knees, kicked out of his bindings, then knelt next to the sled to discard his poles. A light dusting of snow fell off him as he parted the blankets to get to the crying Pam.
“It’s okay,” he said, glad she hadn’t seen the whole terrible spectacle—Lindsey being swallowed alive—as he had. “Just a little delay, that’s all.”
“Where’s Lindsey?” Pam asked, continuing to sob, her face almost as pale as the snow.
“She’s below us. I need to go help her out of the snow. Can you be a brave girl for me and stay here alone for a few minutes?”
Fifteen minutes max. Then suffocation sets in.
“Don’t leave me,” Pam begged. “Please.”
“I have to, but I’ll be right back. Here, take this.” He took off his watch and gave it to her. “Here’s the flashlight. It still works. Get back under the covers, and shine the light on the watch. When the last two numbers say fifteen, I’ll be back here.”
“With Lindsey?”
“That’s the plan.” He covered her up, removed first his pack, then the body harness and sled traces. He took the radio locator from his pack, hooked it to his jacket and jammed the pack securely against the sled. With the addition of two iron spikes, pegs from the sled itself, the sled became immobile. “Fifteen minutes, Pam,” he said, hating the way his voice shook. Dear God, I can’t lose Lindsey again. He reached for his poles and stepped back into his bindings. “Stay warm, you hear me? I’ll be as quick as I can.”
THE COLD SEEPED PAINFULLY
into her body, causing tingles in her extremities. Her nose and cheeks were already numb, and her ungloved hand burned with the cold. She’d been able to raise it, but even fully extended, it didn’t reach the surface. The only thing worse than the dark cold was the weight.
Eric, where are you? How long have I been in here? She slowly retracted her raised arm to check her wristwatch, but she couldn’t reach the button to light it up. Carefully, she took off the remaining glove and put it on her frozen hand. Then, after pushing more snow away from her face and fighting against the weight of snow, slipped her hands under her armpits.
Her frantic thoughts became morbid. She remembered one summer as a child at the beach, when she’d lain on her back and innocently asked her sisters to bury her in the sand. Only her head had been left uncovered. When they’d finished, she’d tried to sit up—to discover that she couldn’t move. Lindsey had starting crying, then screaming, until her sisters had scooped away enough sand to allow her to free herself. Even then, she hadn’t stopped crying until her mother had taken her to rock in her arms.
Lindsey remembered another summer, when the whole family had vacationed in Colorado, and the three girls had begged to be taken to Denver’s wax museum, a spooky collection of Americana horror.
There were sinking ships and doomed souls in frigid waters, and desperate treasure hunters in dangerous mines. The Donner Party was depicted there as well, but Lindsey decided the worst scene wasn’t the grisly feast. The curator could have done a more terrifying scene using the scariest part of all…the snow that had melted down beneath a Donner Party campfire while they slept and trapped them in a pit more than fifteen feet deep.
Stop it! Lindsey told herself. Save your oxygen! Her own labored breathing filled her ears, reminding her of another wax museum exhibit. During the Salem witchcraft trials, one accused woman had been put to death “by press.” She’d been staked out, and a wooden door placed on top of her. One by one the townspeople had filed by with the largest rocks they could carry. They placed them atop the door, slowly and surely pressing with more and more weight against the woman’s chest. The loud, harsh breathing that had been piped through the museum speakers to re-create the victim’s suffocation filled her memory now.
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