The Snowy

by Dave Schneider

  Down at the finish, a reporter with the Jagged Peak News began to type on his laptop. The article would appear online today and in print tomorrow.

  The Weirdest Race

  It was the weirdest race ever. But it posed no problem for the two winners, Sparky Pierce and Sandy Jones. They flowed over rolls, flew off bumps, propelled down pitches and deftly handled every kind of turn thrown at them.

  Interestingly, every one of the racers, no matter what their level of skill, ably handled the unusual direction changes and odd terrain, even the perilous, pernicious pillow garden and the terrifying waterfall gully. The better racers simply got a bit more speed. That says a lot for the course setter, whose name is listed as S. N. Oflian.

  Sparky, in an effort to shave time, took air over a few pillows, then leaped over the waterfall. How’s that for skiing outside the box?

  But, two questions remain. Where did Jagged Peak get the space age race equipment? They refused to say. And why did the forerunner look like a giant otter? Was it really a very large, high tech robot?

  As a note of interest, Sparky and Sandy were two of the four youths who recently went missing in the out-of-bounds. The other two youths were Neff Feeney-Fey and Notch Cheng Tan. Neff posted her best run ever, coming in sixth. Notch, though, had a strange thing happen....

  Notch followed the line as well as he could. He felt fast—better than he’d ever skied. “Hot run, Notch!” he breathed, sliding to a stop in the finish area.

  He clicked open one binding with his pole, the other with his boot heel and listened for his time. But the speaker was silent. Must be side-tracked for a moment. He picked up a ski in each hand and, dragging his poles still on his wrists, walked over to the scoreboard, a big grin on his face.

  He scanned the board. Sparky’s still first. He was looking for his own time and place. But they weren’t posted. The racer after him finished. The racer’s time and place came over the loud speaker and was posted.

  “What’s going on?” asked Notch. He looked at the racer beside him who shrugged.

  Then, next racer came through, his time announced, his place posted.

  Notch strode toward the finish building, when suddenly the loud speaker blurted, “Number sixteen, please report to the start for a rerun. Number sixteen, please report to the start for a rerun.”

  “They didn’t get my time!” sputtered Notch, heading for the pile of warm-ups. “Incompetence! Now I’ve got to go back up and get psyched all over again...Nuts!” He dug out his pants and parka, threw them on, clomped into his skis and poled off toward the lift, shaking his head.

  Neff caught up with him at the lift. “I’ll ride up with you,” she said. “I’ll bring your warm-ups down for you.”

  “Thanks,” grumbled Notch.

  “I saw it happen. It was really weird,” she said.

  “What? What happened?” he softened.

  “The hawk. It took your drone. That’s why you got the rerun,” she said.

  “A hawk? You’re kidding.”

  “I’m not,” she said as they got on the lift. “There was this big hawk. It came out of nowhere. It snatched your drone and carried it into the woods. The drone was blinking really fast.”

  Notch stared at her. “A hawk. So much for superior technology.” Or for me shooting my mouth off about incompetence. He sat silent for a while. Maybe I can find the drone later. The chair rose. “I had a really good run,” he said. “I don’t know if I can do it again.”

  “Yeah, it was a good run,” said Neff.

  “I never had so much fun,” said Notch.

  “Me too,” said Neff. “Had a couple of mistakes, but I felt good. The course held up. No ice. Really fast.”

  “It’s like an engineer set it,” he mused.

  “Or an artist,” she replied.

  “You three guys made it to the regionals. If I blow this run, I won’t be going.” He shook his head.

  “Notch, think of it like you’ve had a practice run! No one else has. You have the advantage.”

  “Maybe. I guess I was hoping it would all be over by now.” The lift was approaching the top. “Where’s Mark?”

  “Over there, with Sparky’s dad.”

  “They’re laughing. Do you think it’s about my drone?”

  “I really don’t think they would laugh about that, Notch. Mark never makes fun of people. And Sparky’s dad is a nice man.”

  “Yeah. I’m just nervous, I guess,” he said, getting off the lift.

  “Have a great run,” said Neff.

  “Thanks,” he said.

  She joined some friends. Notch headed for Mark.

  “Notch, I hear you got a rerun,” said Mark.

  “Yeah.”

  “Do you know why it happened?”

  “Neff said it was hawk.”

  “Seems like. But get this. A drone just came fluttering out of the trees, feathers stuck to it. Probably your drone. It’s over there, getting first aid. So, how about you?” asked Mark. “How do you feel about having to take another run?”

  “Mad, at first.” He looked over at Neff. “But, I’m okay now. Just super nervous. What if I blow it this time? No regionals.” Stupid hawk.

  “Did you like your first run?”

  “Yeah. A lot.”

  “Then why think about blowing this one?” Mark nodded toward the start tent. “You can take your rerun at any time. But talk with Sparky for a moment, first. Okay? I’ll leave you to him.” He beckoned to Sparky, pointed to Notch and left.

  “Another run,” said Sparky, coming up. “That’s so cool.”

  “Cool?”

  “Yeah. I wish I could get one.”

  “Why? You have the fastest run.”

  “It would be fun to do it again. See if I could beat my first run.”

  Notch looked at him. “Even with a rattier course?”

  “More challenge,” said Sparky. “How’d you do on the second pitch?”

  “I set up,” said Notch, “but I still went a little straight over the top. Got low. Skidded some. But nailed the under gate. Scrubbed speed after the roll. Had a decent run everywhere else. Even in the gully.”

  “Awesome,” said Sparky. “How about airtime out of it?”

  “Big air,” said Notch, “Almost missed the next gate!”

  “But you made it. How about the final gates?”

  “Took em straighter.”

  “Me too,” said Sparky. “Straighter’s faster there. Let em run. Finesse the final two gates.”

  “Best run I’ve ever had,” mused Notch.

  “Makes sense. You’re skiing really well.”

  Notch looked over at Mark, who pretended to flip and catch a coin. So it’s my choice. I can think about it like Notch, or I can think about it like Sparky. He grabbed his ski poles and skated toward the start tent.

  The line-up official motioned him into the tent. The start official beckoned him past the waiting racers.

  He slid up to the start line. The number on the hovering drone flicked from 52 to 16, Notch’s.

  Notch took a deep breath, placed his poles, and stared at his line around the first two columns.”

  “Are you ready?” asked the starter.

  Notch nodded, “You bet.”

  “You may go...”

  Notch pushed off. “Unhh….”

  Notch slid to a stop in the finish area and stared at the display, panting. “Five. I got fifth,” he said.

  He joined his parents outside the finish fence. His mother hugged him. “I love reruns!” he bubbled.

  His father grabbed his skis, held them with one handle and pulled something from his pocket with his other hand. “You earned this,” he said, handing Notch a new smart phone, and grabbing his poles.

  “Thanks,” said Notch, turnin
g it on. “Maybe we can develop an app for interplanetary texting?”

  “We’ll work on it.”

  Notch put the phone in his pocket and walked into the training center beaming, his mother’s arm in his, his father just behind, carrying his ski poles.

  Sparky met them. “Great run, Notch,” he said, high-fiving him.

  “Thanks. And thanks for the coaching,” said Notch.

  The awards were held upstairs in the Training Center. The top three girls and boys were given medals. Sparky and Sandy took golds. And because the top fifteen boys and top ten girls qualified for the regional championships, they all received ribbons. Notch, fifth, and Neff sixth were elated with theirs.

  “You guys never skied better,” said Mark, “Maybe you should get lost again, just before the regionals.”

  They stared at Mark for a moment, as if considering it. Then they looked at one another...and shook their heads no.

  CHAPTER 69

  Detained

  SANDY rode home with her father. He went into the kitchen and called Nora, his office manager, for messages. A few minutes later, he came out and asked Sandy to come into the kitchen. “You need to hear this, sweetheart.” He punched in a number.

  Sparky’s father answered. “Hey, Rob.”

  “Hello, Fred. I’m afraid we have trouble,” said the sheriff. “We’ve been getting phone calls from Homeland Security.”

  “The first one was from U.S. Customs and Immigration. They want me to detain all the aliens who have entered our country illegally, and to seize any animals and equipment they may have brought in.”

  “That was fast,” said Sparky’s dad. “Who was the tattletale?”

  “I think I know. But I won’t say until I’m sure.”

  “This is crazy,” whispered Sandy, upset.

  “The second and third calls,” said her dad, “were from the FBI and the CIA. They want me to hold the aliens for questioning. And the fourth call was from the SPCA. Something about cruelty to an otter. Anyway, they all plan to show up in the morning and take things out of my hands.”

  “We’re in luck,” said Sparky’s dad. “Except for Snowy, the Snoflians have all gone. They took back their equipment, including Slytherzz the foreotter!” He chuckled. “Try to say that three times fast!”

  Sandy whispered, “Slytherzz the foreotter, Slytherzz the frotter, Slythzz...” then giggled.

  The sheriff smiled. Then he became serious again. “So, Grell went back?”

  “Yes. With the others. Snowy watched the race from my office window. He left for home with Laura and Sparky a while ago. He plans to go back through tomorrow. Wants to leave the cave totally empty.”

  “He has to go back tonight. I don’t want to have to arrest him. Can you get him to the cave?”

  “We can. I’ll call Laura right now. Have her bring him here to the lodge.” Sparky’s dad hung up and called Sparky’s mom, but her phone was busy.

  So he called Sparky. He told Sparky about the government phone calls and that Snowy had to leave tonight. Sparky was silent for a moment then spoke. His dad listened.

  “Bull did what?” blurted his dad. “When?” He listened again. “Okay, Sparky, please tell Mom that I called and I’ll get back to her.”

  He called the sheriff back. “Seems Bull stopped Laura on the way home and arrested Snowy. Snowy didn’t resist. Bull took him down to your station. In handcuffs.

  “I specifically told my officers to let me handle the aliens,” said the sheriff, angrily. “Bull’s a loose cannon. He overplays the cop role. Creates more problems than solutions. I’m going to the station. I’ll get back to you.” He clicked off.

  “Bull arrested Snowy!” said Sandy. “That’s awful. We need to help him.”

  “We’ve got to get down to the station,” said her dad. Sandy hopped into the cruiser with her father. He beeped the siren twice and wheeled onto the main road. As they barreled toward town, lights flashing, Sandy said, “We’re going to let Snowy out of jail?”

  “We’re not,” said her dad.

  “We’re not?” asked Sandy, crestfallen.

  “No, Sweetheart, We’re not. You are.”

  CHAPTER 70

  Time to Go

  IT WAS DARK, when Sandy and her father entered the police station. Her father went to talk with Nora, while Sandy went to find Snowy. He was sitting in a holding cell.

  He’s gray! “Are you okay?” she asked.

  “Mm,” said Snowy. “Surprised. What’s to happen?”

  “We’re going to get you out,” said Sandy.

  Her father came in. “I’m so sorry, Snowy. I didn’t want this to happen. The officer, Bull, who brought you in, was out of line.” The sheriff looked back at the doorway then turned and said quietly, “Our government people have ordered me to detain you. They’re coming for you first thing tomorrow. You have to get away tonight. Back to Snoflia. Sandy will help. I cannot be here.”

  “Bull just came in, boss,” interrupted Nora from the doorway. “I told him to wait in your office, as you asked.”

  “Thanks, Nora. I’ve got a few choice words for him. You’ll stay around tonight?”

  “Yes, boss. I’ll be here for as long as...as all this takes.” Nora went back to her office.

  The sheriff turned to Snowy. “I want to thank you, again, and to ask if you will convey our thanks to your friends for taking care of Sandy. She thinks the world of you, as do I, as we all do. Meeting you has been, well, remarkable.”

  “You welcome,” said Snowy. “Sandy good friend.” He smiled, the gray in his face turning to tan. “Thank you for help.”

  The sheriff smiled, nodded and headed for his office.

  Sandy sat with Snowy for a few minutes, then said, “I’ve got to see how things are going. I’ll be right back.” As she entered the reception area, Bull came out of her father’s office. She nodded. Bull avoided her eyes and left.

  Her father came out. “I sent Bull to check the county dump. Are you ready, sweetheart?”

  Sandy nodded.

  “Good luck,” he said. He hugged her and left for a town council meeting to discuss the need for a new officer.

  Nora watched him leave, then turned to Sandy. “They’re on your dad’s desk.”

  Sandy grabbed the keys from the desk, hurried to Snowy’s cell and unlocked the door. Snowy followed her down the hall to the rear door. Sandy slid the bolt and unlocked the door. She placed the keys on the floor just inside the door and motioned Snowy out.

  Sandy’s grandmother was waiting in her SUV, its engine idling. Snowy got in the back, Sandy in front.

  As they pulled away, Nora came down the hall, picked up the keys, locked and bolted the rear door and returned the keys to the sheriff’s desk.

  Sandy’s grandmother pulled to a stop outside the town hall. Sandy hugged Snowy and her grandmother and hopped out. She watched her grandmother pull away, waved, then went inside to wait until the sheriff finished his meeting.

  Her grandmother roared up the access road to the ski area, high beams on. She sped up through the main parking lot to the machine shed, where a Trail Tyrant sat, lights on, motor running, Goober in the cab pounding his fist in time with classic country music.

  She slammed on the brakes, turned off the engine, and placed her keys carefully on the dash. She grabbed her backpack from the rear seat and walked briskly to the Tyrant with Snowy. Goober gunned the Tyrant up the mountain faster than ever. Boss won’t mind.

  As soon as Sandy and her father got home from the meeting, they went into the kitchen. Her father called the station.

  “How’s it going, Nora?”

  “Strangest thing, boss. I just went to check on our overnight guest and he was gone. Got out of the cell somehow, and out the back, it seems. The cell keys are still on your desk. The alien must have some special
kind of magic.” She chuckled. “What should I do now?”

  The sheriff looked at his watch. “Have a cup of tea, Nora. When you’re done, call the officers on duty. Tell them to be on the lookout for an escaped alien. Pull Bull from the dump and have him comb through the town center, on foot, my orders. Tell him I said he should check every single hiding place he can think of. He seems to be good at stuff like that.”

  Sandy giggled. She took a sip of hot chocolate, looked at the kitchen clock and asked her dad, “Shouldn’t Grandma be home by now?”

  The phone rang.

  Her father answered.

  CHAPTER 71

  Going

  THE SHERIFF LISTENED INTENTLY, then closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead. After a moment of silence, he said, “I’ll be right up, Goober.” He hung up, grim. “Sandy,” he said, eyes watering, “Goober says your grandmother went through with Snowy. She’s gone. She told Goober she was going to find Grandpa Sam. She gave Goober an envelope, for us. We have to go get it.”

  Goober watched the cruiser’s flashing lights speed up the ski area access road. He stepped out to meet it. Rob pulled up, lowering the window. Goober handed him the note.

  “Sorry, Rob, Sandy,” said Goober, bending to look in, “I didn’t know what ta say to her. I asked if she was sure. She said, ‘Absolutely.’ She was real firm about findin Sam. I didn’t know what ta do. I waited up there a while, case she changed her mind. But then, knowin that lady, I figured she wouldn’t. So I come down.”

  “You did the right thing, Goober, thank you,” said the sheriff. “You helped Snowy get home safely. I want you to know we’re all grateful to you...for everything you’ve done.”

  Goober nodded and said, “Wish I coulda brought you better news. Anyway, Sheriff, you need me, I’ll be inside.”

  “Thanks, Goober.” The sheriff opened the envelope and took out the note. Sandy turned on the overhead light, leaned on his shoulder and read the note with him: