Phantoms in the Snow

by Kathleen Benner Duble

  Noah stared miserably at his uncle. What could he say? That was certainly one of the most heartfelt speeches he’d ever heard his uncle make. And put that way, Noah had to admit, it sounded as if he was whining. And Noah knew his uncle hated whiny people.

  “Of course I’m grateful, Uncle Shelley,” Noah said. “I didn’t mean to sound as if I wasn’t.”

  “’Course not,” his uncle said. “I know that.”

  James Shelley swung his arm over Noah’s shoulders. “Now let’s go get us some chow, boy. You got to keep your strength up for training, eh?”

  Noah let his uncle lead him back to the mess hall. His uncle would be no help. Noah would just have to hope that a letter arrived from Reverend Patterson and that he would somehow get Noah out of this mess.

  Seven weeks passed. Every day, Noah worked on his skiing ability, growing better and better. He began to like the feel of flying down the slope, controlling his turns, going as fast as he could. He continued training with Olaf, digging foxholes and shooting. He returned to the barracks at night, sweaty and exhausted, but there was a strange satisfaction in the hard physical work. He could feel his strength building the harder he pushed himself.

  Still, every day Noah went to the Army Post Office, hoping to have a letter from Reverend Patterson.

  One day, Olaf led him in a different direction from the mountain training camp.

  “Where are we going?” Noah shouted up to him as they skied away from Camp Hale.

  “You vill see,” Olaf called back.

  Noah followed him until they stood at the top of a high cliff.

  “Skis off,” Olaf ordered.

  Noah did as Olaf told him.

  “And so today, ve learn how to rappel down a mountain,” Olaf said, taking a rope and wrapping it around a boulder.

  “I’m going down that?” Noah exclaimed, looking over at the great drop below him and at the thinness of the rope. “Using just that?”

  “Ja,” Olaf said. He turned and tied the rope to a metal ring that was attached to a stake that had been driven into the rock.

  “Why?” Noah asked. “It’s not as if there are going to be these metal rings on top of mountains in the middle of a war.”

  Olaf laughed. “Of course not. Vhen you have to go down the side of an untried mountain, vhether to escape or to attack, you vill have to drive the piton in first yourself and attach the carabiner before you go.”

  “How in the heck do I do that?” Noah asked, fear in his throat at the idea of trusting some small metal stake and ring he had just driven into hard rock without someone testing it first.

  “Next time, I vill teach you,” Olaf said. “For today, ve just rappel down.”

  Olaf looped the doubled rope between his legs, around one thigh and over his body and up past his neck to his hands. Then, in horror, Noah watched Olaf lean way out, until only the soles of his boots were touching the mountainside.

  “Vee hoo!” Olaf shouted, grinning. And with a giant leap, he let the rope slide through his hands, bouncing his way down the mountainside, swinging out and then in, where his boots kicked against the rock of the mountain before he slid several more feet down.

  Noah could barely breathe just watching him.

  Olaf reached the base of the mountain. “Your turn, Noah,” he called up. “The rope you should use is lying next to you.”

  Noah wondered if he could just pretend not to find it. Then when Olaf came back up to help him search, he could toss it over the side when Olaf wasn’t looking. But what was the point? He’d just be putting it off for another day. There would always be more rope back at the camp. He would have to do this sometime.

  Noah picked up the line. It was made of a strange material he had never felt before. He stood with the two ends, trying to remember how Olaf had done it. He tugged on the rope, and it gave a little.

  “Are you sure this is strong enough to hold me?” he called down. “You know you’re much smaller than I am.”

  Olaf laughed. “This rope is very strong, Noah. It does not fray. The material is new and is called nylon, and it is very good. You vill be fine. Now tie the rope like this.”

  Below him, Olaf demonstrated how to secure himself with the rope, and Noah followed his example.

  “Now lean back, and plant your feet against the side of the mountain,” Olaf ordered.

  Noah took a deep breath. This was it. He was petrified. He leaned back, fighting the instinct to scramble to safety at the top of the mountain. Below him, the world seemed a great distance away. His head played out the image of himself free-falling to the bottom. He thought he was going to throw up.

  “Now bounce a bit,” Olaf called, “and let the rope slip through your hands.”

  Inside his gloves, Noah’s hands were sweating. He steadied himself, said a quick prayer under his breath, and bounced back, doing as Olaf instructed. Immediately, he fell several feet, his breath coming out of him in a great big gasp. He gripped the rope again and stopped, banging hard against the mountainside.

  “Good,” Olaf yelled up. “But keep going. In a var, you vill not be able to stop every few feet, Noah. You vill need to be quick.”

  Noah sighed. It was always about speed: speed in skiing, speed in shooting, speed in crawling, and speed in rappelling down a mountainside. He wished he could speed up the fear, too, and get to the calm faster.

  “Come on now, Noah,” Olaf commanded.

  Noah looked down at the ground below. He felt dizzy. He took a deep breath again and let the rope slide. This time, when his boots hit the mountain, he didn’t let himself stop. Instead, he pushed hard against the rock, and let himself slide down even farther. Fear rose in his throat as he flew toward the mountainside again. He forced himself to forget the fear and to just keep going. When Noah reached the bottom, he looked up to where he had started and pride at his courage rushed over him.

  “Good job,” Olaf said. “Now, let’s do it again.”

  They hiked back up. This time around, Noah just let himself fly, and soon found himself in a rhythm. In, push, fly out, loosen your grip, slide down, over and over. It was like being an eagle or a kite sliding down that mountain so smoothly, the world at your feet and you coming toward it as fast as you could manage. When you just let yourself go, it was an amazing feeling!

  Again and again they practiced, until on their final run, Noah and Olaf shouted with joy as together they propelled down. Noah loved doing this! And Olaf, too, seemed pleased.

  When they got back to camp, Noah was on a high, in spite of the shaking of his arms from the effort of that afternoon. On his way back to the barracks, he stopped to check for mail, and found to his surprise that there was a letter for him. Noah’s heart skipped a beat. The return address was Reverend Patterson’s. He sat down and ripped the letter open.

  Dear Noah:

  Son, I was glad to get your letter and to hear that

  your uncle has provided for you in your time of

  loss. I wish I could be more encouraging about you

  coming home and finding work. I know your folks

  were opposed to war, Noah, but I’ve spent some

  time asking around and there isn’t anything here.

  At least there, you have food and shelter. You are

  too young to be shipped out just yet and so this seems

  the only avenue available right now. I will keep my

  eyes and ears open for other possibilities, but the

  community is hard up. Another mouth to feed is

  something that most folks around here cannot afford.

  May God keep you, my son.

  Reverend Patterson

  Noah closed the letter and stared down at the floor.

  Just then, Wiley plopped down beside him. “Hey, Noah. We got a day off tomorrow. Me and the boys are going into Leadville. You want to come?”

  “What’s in Leadville?” Noah asked dispiritedly.

  Wiley leaned in close. “A little bit of wild.”
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  Noah turned to look at Wiley. His red hair was sticking out in all directions, and a wicked grin lit up his face.

  “Wiley,” Noah said, ripping Reverend Patterson’s letter in two, “count me in.”

  A little bit of wild? Noah Garrett needed just that right about now.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Noah’s uncle frowned when he heard of Noah’s plans to go to Leadville. “Be better if you rested, let those muscles of yours loosen up during your day off.”

  “Aw, come on, Shelley,” Roger said. “The kid needs a break. We’re just going for dinner and overnight. Where’s the harm?”

  “The harm is in my nephew going along with you bozos,” James Shelley said.

  “Hey,” Bill argued, “he’s of age. He can handle himself.”

  “Yeah,” Noah said. “I’m of age.”

  Noah’s uncle shot him a look, then nodded. “All right, but I’m expecting you to take care of him.”

  “Yes, sir,” Wiley said, popping to attention and saluting Shelley.

  “Yeah, yeah,” James Shelley said, waving Wiley off. “Get out of here.”

  Noah followed Wiley, Roger, Bill, and Cam out the door, a duffel bag with clothes for overnight in his hand.

  “Man, your uncle sure doesn’t give you much credit. I mean you signed up for war, for Pete’s sake. He acts like you’re a kid or something,” Cam complained as they picked up their skis and poles.

  Cam had no idea just how true that statement was. Noah shrugged. “Family. What can you say?”

  Wiley laughed. “Ain’t that the truth?”

  They all jumped into a jeep, throwing their bags, skis, and poles in the back. Soon they were roaring down a snow-covered road, sashaying back and forth fast enough to make most people sick. But the boys of the 86th laughed as they careened from side to side, and Noah joined in. Cam, Roger, and Wiley began teasing Bill, who was trying to read a letter from his sweetheart back home.

  “What’s her name?” Noah asked.

  “Suzie,” Bill replied.

  “Ooooh, Suzie,” Roger crooned. “Marry me, Suzie.”

  “Oh, shut up,” Bill said, punching Roger, who was driving. “With that ugly mug of yours, you’ll never even get a girl. Heck, it’s lucky they even let you in the army.”

  Not too far from camp, the jeep abruptly came to a halt.

  “What are we stopping for?” Noah asked as Wiley jumped out.

  “You’ll see,” Roger said, grinning.

  Wiley took a rope out of the jeep, went to the back of the vehicle, looped the rope around the bumper, and then put on his skis.

  He took the rope in his hands and gave Roger a thumbs-up sign. Roger took off, the jeep fishtailing a bit, and Wiley, holding on for dear life, shouted with joy at the top of his lungs. Noah laughed, watching him.

  They each took turns skiing behind the jeep as they sped toward Leadville. When Noah’s turn came, he felt a flicker of fear, but he managed to hold on, even when the jeep went careening around an icy curve. At the end, Noah was sweating profusely, yet marveling at the thrill of the ride.

  Cam was the last one to ski. Wiley, who was driving this time, floored the jeep and sped down the road. Cam was hooting and hollering, and they were all laughing as Cam tried to ski from side to side. They rounded a curve, and Cam’s eyes suddenly widened. Noah turned to look. There was a mailbox on the side of the road. Cam couldn’t move back to center fast enough. He smashed into the box, letting go of the towrope in the process. Wiley slammed on the brakes, sending the jeep into a ninety-degree turn before coming to a stop.

  They all jumped out of the car and hurried back to the mailbox. Cam was sitting up and looking a bit woozy.

  “Cam!” Wiley shouted. “Are you all right?”

  “Didn’t see that coming!” Cam slurred before falling over into a heap.

  “Get him into the jeep,” Roger commanded them.

  As if they were in the midst of battle, the boys all went into action. Bill took one of Cam’s legs and Wiley took the other. Roger grabbed Cam’s right arm, and Noah took the left. They raced toward the jeep, Cam’s dead weight throwing them from side to side. Carefully, they placed Cam in the back, and then, squishing into the front together, started the jeep up again and turned it around.

  “Is there a hospital in Leadville?” Noah asked as they sped on.

  “Don’t know,” Bill said, his face white. “We’ve never needed one before.”

  “What’ll we do if he’s hurt bad?” Wiley asked. His voice shook.

  “We’re idiots,” Roger said angrily.

  Noah couldn’t agree with him more. He felt awful about this.

  “This is all my fault,” Wiley said, shaking his head. “I was driving.”

  “Cam’s tough. He’ll survive this.”

  “I sure hope so,” Roger said, taking a curve. “The sound of him hitting that mailbox was awful.”

  “And he hit it hard.”

  “Yeah,” Wiley said. “Even the jeep shuddered.”

  “But it will make a good story.”

  “A good story?” Noah sputtered. “How can anyone think about that at a time like this?”

  “Seems as good a thing to think about as anything else.”

  Who was being so callous? They all looked at one another, and then finally turned to the backseat. Cam was sitting up, looking fine and grinning away. “I think I might even have your uncle beat with this story, Garrett!”

  The laughter that filled the jeep was louder than before, filled mainly with relief.

  Leadville was a little town of nothing. There were no shops or movie theaters, and the only restaurant in town was the one in the hotel. Still, it felt great to have a room with a real bath, heat, and a pillow and lots of blankets. The boys ate a big steak dinner, and then sat before the fire, talking late into the night.

  “My parents are teachers,” Bill said, “and when I come back from the war, I’m going to go to college to get a degree and then go home to teach. For me, there’s no place on earth that can match Bonners Ferry, Idaho.”

  “Especially with Suzie by your side?” Wiley ribbed him.

  “Sure,” Bill said, turning red. “Wouldn’t be a bad life, being married to her and teaching school. I’ve never had any desire to wander too far from home. Even being here in Colorado makes me homesick.”

  “Not the path for me,” Roger said. “I don’t intend to ever marry. I like freedom too much. I’ve seen my two sisters marry and have kids and work themselves to the bone. Heck, my father spent all his life in Vermont strapped to maple trees pulling syrup just to get by. I want no part of that. Give me the open road and a motorcycle, no responsibilities and a life of adventure.”

  “I don’t know,” Cam spoke up. “Wouldn’t you miss seeing your family, Roger? I miss my mom and my dad and my little brother.

  “He’s only eight, you know,” Cam said, turning to Noah. “You should have seen how proud he was of me when I left to join the war effort.”

  He pulled out a picture and showed Noah. Cam stood on the right with his hand draped around a little boy missing his two front teeth.

  “I hope I live up to what he expects from me,” Cam said. “I’d sure hate to come home without a medal or two to show him. I miss him like crazy.”

  “Aw, you just miss your mom’s cooking,” Wiley teased him.

  Cam grinned. “Well, there’s that, too.”

  “So, what about you, Noah?” Bill asked. “How’d you end up being one of us?”

  Noah told them his own story, even opening up about his parents’ death. By the end of the evening, Noah felt as if he had known these four all his life.

  When Noah bunked down in the twin-bedded room he was sharing with Wiley, he was amazed at how warm and comfortable he was for the first time in a long time. He slept heavily.

  Just before dawn, Wiley shook him awake.

  “What?” he asked groggily, staring up at Wiley, who was fully dressed with his duffel bag b
eside him. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing,” Wiley said. “Hurry up. Get dressed and packed.”

  Noah was so sleepy, he did as Wiley commanded without asking why. But as he put on his pants, he came fully awake.

  “What are we doing?” he finally asked.

  Wiley put a finger to his lips. “Shh, we don’t want to wake the other guests. You ready for a little bit of wild?”

  Noah stopped dressing. Hadn’t yesterday’s race to Leadville been wild enough?

  “Me and the boys have been planning this for a long time now,” Wiley said, grinning. “And since you’ve just finished your cliff training, we knew you were the man to include in this experiment.”

  Wiley paused. “Last time we were here, Bill noticed how high the sides of the hotel are. We did a little reconnaissance work and then asked for rooms on the top floor.”

  Noah looked at Wiley, puzzled.

  “We’re going to rappel down the side of the hotel and then ski off before they can catch us!” Wiley crowed softly.

  Noah stared at him. “What if we get caught?”

  Wiley laughed. “Chicken, Garrett?”

  Noah thought about it a minute. Was he chicken? So what if they got caught? What could they do to him? Kick him out of the 86th?

  “Let’s go,” Noah said, swinging his duffel bag onto his shoulder and giving Wiley a grin and a nod.

  The sun was just coming up over the horizon as the boys leaned out of their hotel windows and began their descent. Each was spaced just a few feet from the other. Their duffel bags were on their backs, along with their skis and poles. Noah was the first to push off, the thrill of rappelling and the thought of getting caught making his heart thump hard in his chest. He let the rope slip through his hands and silently slid down ten feet, coming up hard against the side of the hotel. He pushed off again, trying to quiet the laughter that was building inside him as he watched Roger, Bill, Cam, and Wiley bouncing down the wall near him. They looked like spiders, wending their way through the air, attached by thin strings of thread.