“We have to get out of here,” said Michael.
And it wasn’t going to be on the sled. At least Aidan’s snowmobile was in just as bad shape as theirs, if not worse. But this stretch of the road was far from everything, just rocky hills much too steep for anything other than parkland.
“We’re only getting the powder part of the avalanche,” said Ellie, “but who knows what’s farther ahead.”
“And the avalanche means that no one will be driving this way anytime soon,” he added.
They were exposed out here on the mountain, and miles away from help. The snow was too deep to walk through for any length of time. All three of them would freeze out here if they didn’t figure out something.
“I have an idea,” said Ellie. She scrambled down the snowbank. “Grab one of these broken plastic pieces from the snowmobiles, something big enough to sit on.”
She headed for the windshield lying in the road. Michael wasn’t sure where she was going with this, but he had nothing to offer. Through the snow, he could see Aidan pushing up to standing.
“He’s coming,” Michael said as he jogged down the snowbank, following Ellie.
It was hard to find the pieces in the storm. His boot hit the front plate of his snowmobile, which had split in two. The side that had borne the brunt of the impact was shattered, but the other side was hanging off the vehicle mostly in one piece. Michael tore it off.
“We’re going to use these as sleds,” she said.
“Right here, from the side of the road?”
This stretch wasn’t a sheer cliff, but it was steep and full of boulders. Also, the solid mass of the avalanche had hit somewhere close. They were on the edge of unsteady ground. If they strayed onto its path, he didn’t want to think about what might happen.
What if Ellie didn’t make it?
“It’s too risky,” he said.
“We’re trapped. We have to get down the mountain to the—Look out behind you!”
Michael turned around and Aidan was right there.
The man went for his throat, but Michael held up the remains of the front plate like a shield, knocking Aidan’s hand away. Michael threw his weight against the plastic piece, catching Aidan off guard, shoving him back.
The man’s muffled voice made it through the wind, but Michael couldn’t hear what he was saying. Last time Michael had caught Aidan off guard, but this time, he wasn’t sure his wrestling moves would be enough. Ellie was right. The only escape was down.
Aidan lunged at him again.
“You go,” he said through the intercom to Ellie. “I’ll be right behind you.”
“I told you I’m not leaving you.”
Aidan’s big body hit him, knocking them both to the ground. Above him, Michael caught a glimpse of Ellie as she brought down the edge of the windshield on the back of the man’s leg. Aidan let out a yelp, and Michael rolled out from under him. He grabbed the front plate and scrambled to his feet.
“Go!” he shouted. “Please trust me.”
Ellie hesitated and, for one long second, Michael thought she’d refuse. But then he heard her voice ring in his ears.
“You better be right behind me.”
Through the blowing snow, he watched as she ran up the snowbank and disappeared into the darkness.
Michael kicked away the hand that grabbed his ankle and followed her up the mound. The swirling snow blocked his view, and all he could see was gray sky and a long and white blanket below him. There was nothing to do but pray and jump.
So he did.
TEN
Ellie flew over the blanket of snow, picking up speed on the steep mountain. She was curled up on the tiny Plexiglas windshield, her feet raised as she desperately held on to the curved sides. The new layers of powder didn’t absorb nearly enough of the jostles and bumps from the rocks and logs and whatever else was buried under the snow. The more speed she gained, the harder she landed. The landscape rushed toward her in contours that came too fast for her to read. Just a little farther. She had to get away from Aidan.
Her heart kicked in her chest as the blur of white rushed by. She hadn’t passed any trees yet, but there were some up ahead. How did she steer this thing?
And where was Michael? Was he right behind her, the way he’d promised to be?
Ellie pushed that thought out of her mind. She was gathering more speed at a frightening rate, and the faster she went, the more she wobbled and smacked against the buried landscape. She put her feet down in front of her, trying to slow the makeshift sled. The moment her heels hit the snow, the shield of her helmet was sprayed with a layer of white, making it impossible to see. She put her feet down further in the snow to stop herself, to wipe her mask, to figure out where she was, but suddenly she was airborne.
All her breath left her lungs as she flew through the air...
Tuck. Tuck now.
Her survival skills kicked in just as she hit the snow. Her left shoulder landed first, with a jolt, and then she was tumbling through the drift, curled up and rolling down the hill. She thanked the Lord for her helmet, even though it was still covered with snow, as she flailed and rolled, losing track of up and down. She needed to dig in somehow, to stop herself. Somewhere along the way, she’d lost the Plexiglas shield, so she stretched out her legs.
Thump.Whack.
Her leg hit something long and hard and her body jolted to a stop. Ellie’s breath whooshed from her lungs as adrenaline coursed through her. Her leg was caught on something—a branch? She lifted her hand to wipe her mask, but before she reached it, a rush of snow rolled over her, burying her. Ellie tried to move her hands, her legs, but everything was stuck. She couldn’t move. She was trapped. Her heart gave a fresh jolt of fear. She choked in a new breath as panic took over. She had to get out. Now. She tried to flail her arms, tried to kick, but after an inch of movement, her limbs were imprisoned by the coffin of snow. Her heart raced, and her breaths were short and fast, steaming up her visor. Was she going to suffocate here, buried alive?
This couldn’t be God’s will. No. It couldn’t be.
“Help me!” she screamed, but her cry of desperation echoed in her helmet, deep under the snow. The helmet. It was why she had air, a little reprieve. How long would it last?
