“Whatdya mean?” Fahd called out.
“The night of the banquet. Remember when I left the tent?”
“I remember when you ran out crying like a baby,” said Sarah.
“I thought I was gonna hurl, remember?”
Sarah rolled her eyes at Travis. Why did they have to go over all this again?
“So?” Lars said. “This guy made you throw up?”
“No-no-no-no. When I was out in the entrance. This guy comes running through like something’s chasing him. Bowls me right over.”
“Maybe he didn’t see you,” suggested Fahd.
“He saw me all right. He had to step over me to get past. I see him again, he’s dead meat.”
“What’re you gonna do?” shouted Andy. “Blow him apart with your force shield?”
“Very funny,” said Nish. “Very, very funny.”
Nish folded his arms over his chest and closed his eyes. Whether he was just shutting out the shots he was taking from his teammates or gathering his forces to bend Andy like a spoon, Travis couldn’t tell.
But he could tell that Nish was upset at whatever had happened to him. It did seem odd to Travis. People in Japan were so polite. They seemed always to be apologizing for no reason. And he had never seen anyone move so fast unless it was on skates.
Why would a waiter be running through that way anyhow? The kitchen was in the other direction, and through revolving doors.
And wasn’t this just about the same time that the mayor had stood up and dropped dead from the blowfish?
Fahd asked what everyone else was thinking: “Is the death on the tape?”
“A bit,” said Data.
“There’s no need for anyone to see that,” said Mr. Dillinger, his thumb hard against the “forward” button. “Who wants to see the spoon bend?”
“Me!”
“We do!”
“I do!”
“Me!”
Mr. Dillinger pushed the “play” button and the fuzzy picture cleared to show the little downtown restaurant. The woman was just coming to the table carrying the spoons.
A cheer went up through the bus.
But not from Travis. There was something about what had happened to Nish that was bothering him. Something to do with a man running away from a murder that was just about to happen.
If there were no such thing as the magic of skating, Travis thought, then he would choose snowboarding as the perfect way to travel through life. If he loved nothing more than the sense of his sharp skates on a new, glistening sheet of ice, he loved almost as much the feeling that came from a sharp carve on a good snowboard.
He liked to get his hands down low, his knees bent, and the carve so deep that his hips all but brushed against the snow as it flew past him. A few quick curves, a jump, a quick tail grab, and a perfect landing, immediately into another hard, hard carve, the snow sizzling beneath the board almost exactly as ice will sometimes sizzle beneath your skates.
Travis was not the best snowboarder, but he was pretty good. Best were Sarah and Lars, who were probably the best technical skaters on the team, and fastest, as usual, was Dmitri. But Fahd wasn’t far behind. Fahd, in fact, was a far better snowboarder than skater, and Travis was secretly delighted that his friend now had something to brag about.
Nish was hopeless. Well, not exactly hopeless, but he had no patience, expecting his expertise in hockey to serve him just as well in snowboarding. He also thought–or claimed to think, anyway–that snowboarding should be a contact sport. But Nish felt that way about every game he played. He was convinced that baseball would be more fun if you could tackle the runners.
The Owls had been welcomed to Mount Yakebitai by Mr. Ikura, the owner of the ski resort and, according to Nish’s information from Mr. Imoo, the owner of several of the top ski and snowboarding hills in the area. He was reputed to be a very, very wealthy man, and was renowned for his generosity. Of his generosity there was no doubt: he had met the Screech Owls with free passes, free board rentals, and a voucher for each youngster for a full meal at the cafeteria.
“It’s not sushi, is it?” Nish had whined.
“Anything you want,” said Mr. Ikura.
“Dairy Queen Blizzard!” shouted Nish.
“What’s that?” Mr. Ikura asked.
“Just ignore him,” suggested Sarah. “We all do. And thank you from us all for your kind gift.”
Sarah had then presented Mr. Ikura with a team windbreaker, and he had put it on to great cheers from the team. He had thanked them and told them to enjoy their day on the hills.
After his first couple of runs, Travis had come to a smaller hill near the bottom to work with Nish on his carving. Nish wanted to improve, but seemed willing to allow only his best friend to know how bad he really was.
They were working on Nish’s crouch when Mr. Dillinger and Data came along, Mr. Dillinger pushing Data on a special sled. Data was filming again with his camera.
“Put that thing away!” shouted Nish, embarrassed at being caught. “Or else.”
“What’re you gonna do?” Data laughed. “Use your force shield?”
“I don’t want any pictures, okay. Not yet, anyway.”
Mr. Dillinger headed back toward the lodge, and Data stayed with the two boys, content to watch without filming, at least for a while. Nish worked hard, sweat covering his face, and Travis was delighted with how quickly Nish’s snowboarding was improving. He seemed to have mastered the balancing, and once you had that, you were away.
“Go ahead,” Nish told Data with new confidence. “You can take some shots of the master now.”
Data picked up his camera and began shooting again. Not just Nish, but the entire hill, the lodge, and a Toyota 4x4 that was crawling up the steep road toward them.
The vehicle came to a stop just the other side of some nearby trees. Two men got out and pulled a Yamaha snowmobile from the back, followed by a heavy sled, which they attached to the rear of the snowmobile.
Hill workers, Travis presumed, after a quick glance, but then he noticed Nish was staring fiercely at them.
“The guy in the red coat,” Nish said.
“What about him?”
“Isn’t that the guy who ran me over?”
Travis looked hard. He had heard the stupid jokes about how all Japanese look the same, and he had heard that there were Japanese jokes about all Westerners looking the same, and he knew that neither was true, but still, he couldn’t tell whether this man looked all that much different from any other hill worker he’d seen that day.
“It’s the creep, okay,” said Nish. “Check the eyebrows.”
The eyebrows did stand out. Very dark, and slanted in a V that gave him a slightly mean look.
“Maybe,” Travis said.
“No ‘maybe’ about it. That’s him.”
“I’ll get a shot of him,” said Data. “Then we can check it against the other shot.”
“I’ll take my own shot, thanks,” Nish said, bending down.
Nish quickly packed a good hard snowball, reeled back, and let it fly. The snowball flew past the trees separating them and crashed into the side of the snowmobile.
The two men looked up, startled.
Nish shook his fist. “MOSHI MOSHI!” he shouted.
“‘Hello, hello’?” Travis translated, puzzled.
Nish grinned sheepishly. “Well, I didn’t know what else to say.”
The man with the mean eyebrows gave a quick, hard look at the boys and then turned away.
“Got him!” shouted Data.
“Nah!” said Nish. “Missed him.”
“No,” Data corrected, patting his video camera. “I got him.”
“That’s really going to hurt him,” Nish said sarcastically, shaking his head and boarding away, carving like an expert until, leaning too tight into a turn, he fell flat on his face, the snow spraying around him.
“Got that, too!” Data shouted triumphantly.
Travis caught up to Sarah, Dmitri,
Lars, and Jenny at the top of the gondola run. It was a glorious sight–the sun sparkling on the thick snow, the clouds below them, tucked tight as thick blankets to Mount Yakebitai. It was snowing down there, but at the top, high above everything but the neighbouring bright white mountaintops, the day was picture perfect. Travis wished Data could get up here with the video camera, but Data had gone back to the lodge and Nish had stayed out on the smaller hill to practise.
They did a long run together, Sarah taking the lead and all the others trying to follow, not only her run but her every move. If Sarah pumped a fist, all five pumped a fist. If Sarah jumped and tucked or did a special grab, everyone did. They dropped down through the clouds and along a high ridge until they noticed some signs indicating danger, and Sarah pulled to a sharp stop in the shelter of some pines. The others pulled in beside her.
“Fun, eh?” Jenny said.
Travis smiled at her. Jenny’s face was flushed bright pink. Snow was falling on her cheeks, and melting from the heat as fast as it landed.
Lars was biting into a mittful of powdery snow.
Dmitri was closer to the edge of the pines, staring out over the dangerous slope where no one was to go.
And then the mountain exploded.
Just the roar alone would have terrified Travis. But a moment after the terrible sound hit them, the world began to slip away from under the Owls, and they hit the ground, screaming.
Mount Yakebitai was falling!
“It’s an avalanche!” Sarah screamed, barely audible over the devastating roar.
“Hang onto the trees!” Lars yelled.
Travis rolled to one side, over and over, until he could wrap his arms around one of the pines. The tree was shaking–but holding. Dmitri held on to a pine beside him.
The snow below the Owls seemed to be bucking like a horse. Travis could hear Jenny screeching, but he could also see that she had managed to grab a tree.
He lifted his head higher, the sound almost deafening. He could see out through the pines to the dangerous slope, and he had a sense of being in a moving car.
It felt like he was flying with the trees up the hill!
He looked again and realized it was the mountainside slipping down, not him going up. The slope seemed to be sliding like a cloth off a tipped-up table, the roar building and a plume of snow rising thicker than any of the clouds that ringed the mountain.
The roar began to recede, but the ground still shook.
Or is it just me shaking, wondered Travis.
The five Screech Owls lay against the safety of the pine trees until the roar stopped. The sky was still filled with rolling snowflakes when they finally stood, but the avalanche was over. They were still alive.
Jenny was crying. Lars put his arms around her and held her. Travis wished he had enough nerve to do it, but knew he couldn’t. He wished he could be that comfortable around other people.
Sarah was creeping to the edge of the pines. Dmitri grabbed her arm.
“Don’t!” he said. “There could be a second one any minute.”
“Where’s it headed?” Sarah asked.
“Toward the lodge,” Dmitri answered.
Never had Travis snowboarded so well and so fast–but it meant nothing to him except getting to the bottom of the mountain as quickly as possible. They had to find out if anyone was hurt.
Dmitri went first, body crouched, board singing on the snow. He led them in a high loop away from the avalanche area and into clearer skies that had not yet filled with the burst of powdered snow that had risen like a cloud of smoke from a bomb blast. Sarah followed. Then Travis, Jenny, and Lars bringing up the rear and making sure Jenny was all right.
Travis felt his heart jump when the lodge came into view. It was safe! There were skiers and boarders milling about, all staring up toward the practice hill where one edge of the avalanche had rolled over the top like a giant wave.
The five boarders raced down and several of the other Owls, and Muck, came stomping through the snow to greet them. Mr. Dillinger and Data were waving from the deck outside the lodge.
“You’re all right! You’re all right!” Fahd called.
“We’re fine!” Sarah called back. “But it was close!”
“Everyone here okay?” Lars asked.
The others turned to Muck.
Travis looked at the big coach. Maybe it came from running through the cold air, but Muck’s eyes were glassy and red around the edges.
“We can’t find Nishikawa.”
This time, the frightening roar came from inside Travis. He heard Muck’s words and instantly the pieces of a terrible picture fell into place: Nish finally figuring out how to snowboard; Nish deciding to work on his carves alone; Nish heading farther up the practice hill to be out of the way until he was ready to show everyone. Nish, smothered by the avalanche.
“NNNNNOOOOOOOO!”
The Owls all turned at once toward the hill where the avalanche had lapped over onto the ski runs. Several trees were broken. Snow was piled up as if ploughs had just cleared the world’s largest parking lot. Huge banks of snow had risen out of nowhere, it seemed, the flying powder still in the air and now glittering in the sun that had just broken through.
Already rescue crews were out. Vast snowmobiles like army tanks were rolling out across the hills, and rescue workers in bright-yellow ski jackets were racing toward the trees.
Travis reacted without thinking. He kicked off his board and began running toward the area where he had last seen Nish.
“Travis!” Muck called from behind.
Travis didn’t stop. He ran farther and then looked back. The rest of the Owls, Muck included, were following, Muck hobbling over the snow on his bad leg.
The Owls were a team, and a teammate was in trouble.
Travis was sweating heavily now. His heart was pounding, his throat burning. He knew he was half crying but didn’t care. Nish was his greatest friend in the world.
He blamed himself for what had happened. He should have stayed with Nish. But Travis had abandoned him to show off with his other friends.
And now Nish was gone.
Travis tried to keep what might have happened out of his head, but couldn’t. He could see Nish turning, screaming, and the great wall of sliding snow burying him, crushing him.
Right now, Nish might be trying to scream for help–gagging on snow and slowly losing the fight to stay alive.
The rescue workers were out on the avalanche section now. They were crawling on their hands and knees and pulling behind them thin hollow rods that looked like gigantic long straws. Several of the rescuers were already working with the rods, inserting them into the snow and prodding deep below the surface. If somehow Nish was still alive, he would be able to breathe through one of them until they dug him out!
Travis felt his heart skip with hope. The rescuers obviously felt there was a chance. A million tonnes of snow wasn’t like a million tonnes of rocks. Nish might still be alive!
Travis found himself praying. He was crying and praying and creeping along on his hands and knees as if he half expected to see Nish’s Screech Owls’ tuque sticking out of the snow, or hear his muffled voice complaining about sushi or something.
“What the hell is everybody looking for?” A voice behind him asked.
“Nish!” Travis called back impatiently.
“What?” the voice asked stupidly.
“We’re looking for Nish!” Travis repeated, anger in his voice.
“What?” the voice repeated.
And then it struck Travis: he knew that voice as well as his own!
Still down on his hands and knees, Travis turned his head.
Nish was standing there, his mouth full and his hand stuck deep in a bag of potato chips.
“What’s up?” Nish asked.
“Where did you come from?”
“The tuck shop. Look, they got real chips there–just like at home.”
Travis stood up, now, and did what only m
inutes before he’d thought himself incapable of–he hugged Nish.
“Hey!” Nish protested. “Back off. You’ll crush my chips!”
Now everyone noticed him. The Owls came flying at Nish as if he’d just scored the winning goal in overtime. Even Muck came racing over, his bad leg in pain but his face laughing as he reached into the crush and rubbed a big, snow-covered glove in Nish’s face.
“C’mon!” Nish shouted. “You’re crushing my chips!”
But no one was listening to him. They piled on, and soon the bag of chips was as flat as if the avalanche itself had rolled over it, Nish’s protests growing increasingly muffled as more and more Owls leapt onto the pile.
“It’s a miracle,” said Mr. Dillinger. “An absolute miracle.”
The Owls had gathered just outside the tuck shop at the lodge. Everyone, it seemed, had bought a new bag of chips for Nish, who was in his glory now. Between mouthfuls he held court, as if he had, in fact, been swept away by the avalanche, but was such a superior snowboarder that he had simply ridden the wave of snow like a surfer to the safety of the tuck shop.
Everyone had been accounted for. Not just every Screech Owl, but all the hundreds of skiers and boarders who had been on the hill that day. Mr. Ikura, the owner–his face drawn with concern–had gone around and apologized to everyone who had been here. As if all this, somehow, had been his fault.
“A miracle,” Mr. Dillinger kept saying.
Eventually, word came up the mountain that the roads were once again open. The Screech Owls were tired and cranky and just wanted to get back to their rooms and rest up for the game against Sapporo.
The bus was loaded and warming up when Muck and Mr. Lindsay came back from the area where the rescuers were still investigating the slide. A watch would be kept throughout the night in case there was any more movement.
For the time being, Mount Yakebitai was closed for business.
Travis was sitting close enough to the front of the bus to overhear Muck talking to Mr. Dillinger.
“Apparently they’ve never had an avalanche at this time of the year before,” Muck was saying. “Mr. Ikura says it doesn’t make any sense to him.”
The Complete Screech Owls, Volume 3 Page 4
