Avalanche
M. Liz Boyle
M. Liz Boyle
Avalanche
© 2019 M. Liz Boyle
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever. For information, contact the publisher at:
mlizboyle@gmail.com
Cover photo by iStock
Cover design © Giant Leap Design
Author photo by Krista Swanson/Simple Wonder Arts
First edition
ISBN 978-1-7334272-0-3
ISBN 978-1-7334272-1-0
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Scripture taken from the New King James Version®. Copyright © 1982 by Thomas Nelson. Used by permission. All rights reserved.
Contents
Acknowledgements
1.
2.
3.
4.
5.
6.
7.
8.
9.
10.
11.
12.
13.
14.
Epilogue
Glossary of Terms
About the Author
Dear Reader,
Acknowledgements
Special thanks to my Father and His Son; my husband Dustin for sharing many adventures with me and encouraging me through this one, as well as explaining many mountaineering and rescue details to me; my parents for rooting for me; my wonderful beta reading team: James Guy III, Nia Flavin, Miranda Gibson, Hannah Gilmer, David Markopoulos, Cynthia Saladin, Jennifer Saladin, Abigail Shafer – your input means tons to me, and I greatly appreciate your help; my gracious and thorough editor Beth Jernberg; Krista Swanson for the fun photo shoot; Karen at the Woodville Library; Rollan and Maria Wengert for urging me to self-publish and answering various questions; David and Sarah Witt for their support and advice; Clara, Walker, Kelty and all of my beloved family members and friends – you all rock!
To adventure seekers everywhere, this story is for you.
1
As I felt the wall of snow crash into me and sweep me down the mountain like I was an autumn leaf, I would have given almost anything to take back my decision to go along with this reckless idea. When I first heard the roar, followed by a deep rumble and rushing sound, all I could do was scream. My big sister Ellie grabbed my hand and frantically told me to grab our little sister, Lydie. I desperately reached back for her, but where was she? She had been hiking just behind me, but apparently had slowed. Sawyer and Marshall Miles bounded through the deep snow to us. Sawyer, almost eighteen, hollered, “AVALANCHE! Run to the side of the ridge!” Run to the side. I had read that tip in an article a few months ago, but thinking about it seemed much more possible than actually sprinting through shin-deep snow with a mammoth mass thundering toward me.
“Where’s Lydie?” Sawyer demanded.
“I don’t know!” I cried.
Ellie and Sawyer exchanged a distressed glance, then took off together, amazingly reaching Lydie just before the snow mass roared into us.
“Swim uphill!” Marshall shouted. Swim uphill. I remembered Dad telling a story of a guy he knew from his mountaineering job that got caught in an avalanche and “swam” to stay toward the surface of the snow. I hysterically began flailing my arms and legs, certainly no Olympic stroke, but perhaps it resembled swimming enough to stay above the surface of the crashing snow. While swimming, I craned my head in every direction, trying to catch a glimpse – what I prayed would not be my last glimpse – of my dear sisters and Sawyer, but all I saw was white. Ominous, smothering white. And then black.
Black. Stifling black. Moments before, the full moon bounced enough light off the pure white snow to read a map. Now I was smothered in darkness. Was this a nightmare? I tried to roll over in my sleeping bag, but no, I wasn’t in my sleeping bag. My whole body hurt. My face felt bruised. The memory flashed into mind, almost as quickly as the avalanche had hit us. Avalanche. Lydie! Ellie! The Miles boys! What was I doing here?? If I had followed my gut and refused to go on this hike, we would be safely asleep in our tent next to our parents’ tent. Our parents’ tent. Mom and Dad – oh, no! How would they cope with the news that their children had been in an avalanche? I had to get out. I would get out. God willing, I would do everything in my power to escape.
Panic surged through me. Instinctively, my body tried to thrash, tried desperately to get up, but I was stuck. The snow was packed so tightly that I could barely move my hands. Without thinking, I began to pray. At first, my plea was panicked, but gradually, I managed to calm down and really ask God for help.
Stay calm, I reminded myself again, and then mocked the thought of staying calm while drowning in snow. Stop that. Think, Marlee. Oh yeah, when buried in the snow, first determine which way is down, then dig toward the opposite direction. The snow was stiff, but not as stiff as I first thought, indicating to me that I must be near the surface. My left hand was near my face. After wiggling it for a few seconds I managed, with some difficulty, to get it to my mouth and I dug a small air pocket. Letting a drop of saliva onto my lip, I felt it fall down my left cheek. So gravity was left. Dig to the right. Slowly, I inched my hands to my right side and pushed snow away from my body. It took all of my strength to move the solid snow just a few inches. My breathing sped up again, partially due to fear and partially due to the workout of digging. Pausing to take a break, I wondered how long my pocket of air could provide enough oxygen. Then I heard my name. Or was that my imagination?
“Marlee!” It was definitely Marshall’s voice. I tried to scream back to him, but my voice deafeningly echoed directly back to me in my cave. I felt a surge of relief knowing at least Marshall and I were alive; I begged God that the others were, too.
