“How far?”
“May be a few hundred yards?”
“Not far enough. He’s driving too fast for the area,” muttered Michael. “Not a good sign.”
Michael slowed as they approached the road, navigating around the jagged rocks that broke up the blanket of snow. Each time Ellie looked behind them, Aidan was closer.
“He has the faster vehicle, too,” said Michael. “Once we get onto the road, I don’t know how long I can keep him off.”
“All we can do is try,” she said. And pray.
Was Michael a man of faith? In those first months after Sean died, she had felt like she was drowning, like his death was pulling her under and keeping her there. Her belief had saved her life, and she hoped that Michael could feel God there with him, too.
“Hang on,” said Michael as he drove them up the embankment and down the steep decline of the other side.
Above them, the mountain range ascended with a season’s worth of snow clinging to the rocky face. In front of them, the two-lane road curved gently through the remainder of the valley then turned out of sight around a curve. The car tracks were barely visible in the new snow. Why weren’t there vehicles on the road, now that the snow had let up?
“Just beyond that curve is where the road cuts through Angel’s Slide,” said Michael. “If we make it through that stretch, we can get off the road again.”
Ellie didn’t miss the if in that last sentence.
The snow glowed in the beam of the headlight, lighting a short distance in front of them and leaving the rest of their surroundings shrouded in darkness. They would move around the curves as the drop off the mountain grew steeper. They raced toward the first curve and then Michael cut the speed. As they rounded onto Angel’s Slide, Ellie turned back and saw the light from Aidan’s snowmobile flickering behind them, darting one way then the other. He was still gaining on them, faster now.
Michael slowed as they took the first corner then sped up as the road straightened. They dodged large chunks of snow that had fallen from higher up the mountain and rolled into the road. On her left, the mountain rose, and on her right, the edge of the road ended in a sharp drop into the canyon. The light from the snowmobile pursuing them dashed against the mountainside, and Ellie was afraid to check how close it was. If the sled caught them now, they could so easily be nudged off the road. Just one more hairpin turn.
“Hold on,” said Michael. “Just after this turn, we’ll get off road again.”
She clutched Michael’s jacket and braced herself. But as they rounded the corner, an enormous cloud of white blew toward them through the night air, overtaking them in a swirl of wind.
Ellie gasped as the cloud of powder enveloped them.
“Avalanche!”
The gust of snow hit them, a white haze cutting off Michael’s sight. He couldn’t see the edge of the road and he couldn’t see the wall of granite on the other side. At this speed, he could so easily kill them both.
“Lean in. We’re turning,” he called through the intercom over the noise of the storm.
Michael slammed on the brakes and made a U-turn into the lane of oncoming traffic, praying no one was coming toward them through the blinding cloud of white. He could barely see a few feet in front of him, but he had to get them closer to the mountain, away from the edge of the road. The snowmobile stuttered forward until they were now facing the way they’d come. The other sled would be rounding the corner at any moment. Michael couldn’t count on Aidan—it had to be him—to turn back. He would be heading straight for them. But at their back was an avalanche, the force of it creating its own storm. He’d seen this before. A slide of heavier snow set off sandstorm-like winds that blew powder—and everything in its way—down the mountain. How close were they to the crushing river of snow? Would the heavier snow hit them from above, burying them alive? Or would they get blown right off the edge of the road? Danger lay in both directions. They were trapped.
Michael found the snowbank and pulled up to the base of the steep slope. Tiny flakes swirled while bigger chunks of snow pelted against his helmet.
“What do we do now?” called Ellie over the howl of the wind.
“We can’t drive in this,” Michael shouted through the intercom. “Not when I can’t see.”
The snow was already building over the skis of the snowmobile and covering them both in a white film.
“We need shelter,” she called back.
But her words were drowned out by the roar of a snowmobile motor. Aidan. He was still pursuing them, and now he was at the hairpin turn. The single light flashed and bounced before it shone straight at them. Visibility was so low that whether he meant to or not, Aidan was going to hit their vehicle—and them—if they didn’t get out of the way.
“Into the snowbank,” bellowed Michael. “Now.”
Michael scrambled off the snowmobile and grabbed Ellie’s hand, and together they dashed through the new layer of blowing snow and climbed up the steep bank. Even just a few feet away, Ellie’s figure was blurred through the storm. The mountain was barely visible. Ellie’s boots slipped through the powder, and Michael grabbed for her glove.
Protect her. Adrenaline raced through him as the message resonated in his entire being, strong and clear.
“Link arms with me so I don’t lose you,” yelled Michael. “I’ve got you.”
Crack. The shatter of hard plastic against plastic, followed by the crunch of metal, echoed over the wind.
“Get down!” Michael called and then he threw himself on top of her, shielding her with his body as best he could.
Kernels of ice and bits of fiberglass pelted against him, so he held on tight to Ellie.
“Help us, Lord.” Ellis’s voice was a whisper in his ear, so quiet beneath the storm that he almost missed it. But it was there. She was praying, the way Sunny and he used to pray together.
“Amen,” he whispered.
He waited for a breath, then another breath, until he was sure the spray from the collision had settled. Then he scrambled up and turned around, searching through the snow for Aidan. Pieces of black material, large and small, dotted the white landscape, scattered around the wreckage of both snowmobiles. Aidan—it had to be him—had slammed straight into their sled. One windshield had shattered and another dangled from the handlebar. The front skis were askew, and the front plates were in pieces all over the road. If he and Ellie hadn’t jumped off in time...
Michael pushed that thought away and searched for Aidan.
“Do you see anyone?” he asked.
“Over there.” She pointed farther down the road. “I see movement.”
Michael whipped around and saw the faint figure in the storm, the red coat glowing through the snow. Aidan lay in the snowbank, slowly lifting himself to sitting. It looked as if he had been thrown over the handlebars. The man was alive. That was all Michael needed to know to set him in motion.
