Jenna nodded, removed her own hat and goggles, and grabbed at his coat while he secured their lines. "Something's wrong, Cole. Please hurry." The anger in her voice had dissipated, replaced with desperation.
That got to him.
Before he could put up his guard, feelings surged through him. Things he hadn't felt in years. Hadn't allowed to surface. Because he couldn't afford to do so. Caring always led to pain.
Stop. Focus.
He lowered himself down the rope. Andie had fallen about twenty-five feet below Jenna, as far as the ropes would allow. But that wasn't what bothered him. She hung upside down, completely limp. He knew that she had some kind of rare disorder, but he hadn't had time to find out all the details. He hadn't expected to find a vibrant, functioning, normal kid.
A new question plagued him. What if he'd put them all in danger by pushing too hard?
It wasn't long before he reached her still form. "Andie." Keep your voice calm. He pulled her upright. "Andie, talk to me. What's happening?"
"Uhhhhhnnn . . . mmmomm . . ."
Cole yanked off her goggles and checked her pupils. Eyes were glassy. "Andie, I need you to stay awake."
"Uhh . . . kay . . ."
He pulled off her ski mask. Bright red cheeks, skin hot to the touch. He yelled as loud as he could up to Jenna, careful not to let his alarm come through in his voice. "She's burning up. And she's bright red."
"Take off her coat! She's overheating!" Jenna's words fought the fierce wind as they floated down to him, but he didn't miss the panic in her voice.
That's right. Marc's words registered again. The kid couldn't sweat or feel pain.
"Andie, stay with me. Stay awake." He lifted off her pack, unzipped her jacket, and gently pulled her arms out one at a time. Grabbing some snow from the side of the cliff, he wet down her face and neck. Surely it wouldn't take long for her to cool off in these temps. "Andie, look at me."
No response. All her symptoms pointed to heatstroke, but could it really be that? On the side of a mountain? In frigid temps?
"Andie"—he made the words forceful—"wake up."
Jenna's shout echoed down to him, "Cole? Cole? Andie?"
Cole rubbed Andie's face again.
Her eyes opened and worked to focus on him. She blinked. "Cole . . ."
He released a sigh. "Hey, you back with us?"
She glanced around. Each moment that passed, her eyes gained clarity.
"Did you hurt anything? Can you talk to me?" He continued questioning her, hoping the lethargy would clear. He removed his own ski goggles and placed a hand to her forehead. At least her skin wasn't burning any longer. He unclipped a water bottle from a carabiner at his waist and positioned it at her lips. "Drink."
He looked up at Jenna and waved an arm, hoping she understood that Andie was alert and okay. That was too close. His heart thumped. Time to squelch these feelings.
After chugging the entire water bottle, Andie smiled. "Cole?"
"Yeah?"
"You have icicles on your eyebrows." She reached up, tentatively touching his face, and smiled again. "It's kinda warm today, huh?"
He allowed a small laugh to escape. "I'm glad you inherited your dad's wit. Guess you're feeling better?"
"Well, I don't know. Everything's not so fuzzy anymore." She shrugged her shoulders. "Thanks, Cole. Guess I overexerted. I'm sorry I slowed you down."
Cole winced. It was his fault, pushing them to extremes to prove he could protect them. "Andie, no. You didn't do anything wrong." He checked her harness. Avoided eye contact. "Sometimes . . . well sometimes, I get too focused on the mission."
"The mission?" Andie giggled. "Oh, Cole. You are way too serious. Now you sound just like my dad."
He allowed himself another brief chuckle as he clipped the water bottle back into place and prepared to climb. "Well, your dad and I were friends. I should have told you earlier. And yes, we had many missions together."
"I know."
"Oh? How did you know?"
"I overheard you talking to Mom. It's okay, it reminds me of my dad."
He cocked an eyebrow and checked their ropes.
"But that doesn't mean I trust you."
"Of course not."
"So, are you ready to get me up this mountain?"
The kid had spunk. "Sure thing. Let's get you up to your mom. I'm sure she's pretty worried."
"All right, Mr. Mission. I'm ready."
After repositioning himself in his harness, he tied Andie's coat around her waist and shoved her hat and mask into the pockets. "You can't stay exposed to these temps too long, so once we get up there, you need to cover your skin, okay?"
"Yes, sir!" She gave him a mock salute.
"Safe to say you don't have to wear your heavy coat while we're climbing."
"Good guess." She giggled again.
Cole had forgotten the beauty of a child's laughter. Andie was almost a teen, but she touched something deep. Just like his—
He shook his head. Couldn't let his thoughts go there. "All right, I came down here without my ice axe, so you are going to have to hold onto me while I get us up over that ledge. I need you to carry your pack though. I'll do all the work, but there's no other way to get it up there. Then you can have your mom check you out, get you geared up properly, and we'll move some more. Sound good?"
"Yep." She was already grabbing hold of him, positioning her legs and arms to be out of the way as he climbed.
"Need more water?"
"I'm good. At least until we get the next twenty or so feet."
Man, she reminded him of her dad. Especially in the early years. "Smart aleck. Since you're so brilliant, your call name will be Einstein."
"Awesome! I've always wanted one of those! Now let's get movin,' tough guy. We're wasting daylight." She hugged him tight.
One step, two. Each slow and calculated as he pulled them up the rope. Almost past the sheer vertical climb. Cole held the girl pressed to his chest. Careful not to grip too hard. She was so small . . . he could crush her without even thinking. Concentrate on the pressure. The progress. The fact that this was what mattered—getting out. Not that this child had done something no one else had been able to do. For a long time.
Made him feel.
His teeth clamped together. Focus. Focus on what was important. On getting her up to her mom. Safe. Analyze the mountain. Each step. Don't think about the interactions with these two since the crash.
Wait a minute. Interactions since the crash . . .
He frowned. Why had Andie rushed back to Hank's side before they left? "Tell me about your conversation with Hank."
Her face scrunched up, frowning from her hairline down to her chin. "I don't know why he did what he did. But, he deserved to know that God loves him no matter what."
"Oh really." Cole couldn't help the cynicism that washed out the words.
"Yeah, really." Those demanding eyes grabbed his attention.
No, he wouldn't get suckered into this one. He looked away.
"No matter who we are, or what we've done, God loves each one of us. Don't you believe that, Cole?"
Such innocence. Such faith. Totally blind. "Look, I don't want to burst your bubble, kid. And I don't want to belittle what you believe in, but no. I don't."
She sighed. Then shook her head. "It's a good thing God doesn't give up on us as easily as we give up on Him."
"I didn't say I gave up on Him."
"But you never gave Him a chance, did you?"
"Let's just say I've never needed to."
She laughed at him. This tiny preteen, who struggled for her own life—was laughing at him. "Oh, you've needed to. You're just too stinkin' stubborn to admit it. And for your information, Hank listened. He ne
eded to be taken care of. Maybe you do too."
He didn't like the way this conversation was going. "Well, maybe you should pray for him. That would take care of him."
His sarcasm wasn't well received. Andie shot him a glare. "I have been praying for him. And I'm gonna keep praying for him. And you know what? I'm gonna pray for you too. 'Cause you obviously need it."
"Let's table this discussion for later."
"Why?"
"Because I need to know more about your . . . disease."
"Yeah, good excuse. And it's not a disease."
He cocked an eyebrow at her irritated tone. "Okay then, it's not a disease. But since you have me as your captive audience, why don't you explain your . . . problem with me."
She studied his face. "As long as you promise we'll talk about God later."
"Fine. Whatever." Tenacious kid. "Now tell me about . . ."
"HSAN? Sure, okay. It stands for Hereditary Sensory Autonomic Neuropathy."
"Wow. That's a mouthful." His words were clipped as the thin air pressed his lungs.
"Yeah, you should try to spell it."
He humphed.
"Anyway, I can't sweat, I don't feel pain, and I also had brain surgery last year. But it was for something else, because I couldn't feel the pain of the problem, so they had to do surgery. But I'm better now."
Did all preteen girls dump information this fast? "So, you could have . . ."
"What?" Andie scrunched her eyebrows. "Just say it. I'm not a baby."
"I know that. I just realized you could have died back there and I didn't like that thought." The exertion of climbing, carrying extra weight, and talking began to make him light-headed.
They were almost over the ledge. Andie waved her hand at her mom, smiled, and then looked back at him. "You know what, Cole?"
"Hmm?" He concentrated on his grip, securing each foothold before the next.
"I think you're the first person to actually understand the depth of my disorder on the first try. Seriously, people—even family members—don't always get it until they've been around us for a long time. Thanks. For understanding."
Heaving them over the ledge onto easier terrain, his heart hammered in his chest. And not just from the exertion. How could this be happening? A carefully guarded space inside him begged to be unlocked.
No. Not again.
Never.
He unfastened Andie and collapsed in the snow as mother and daughter united. They must've made some good progress today, the air was thinner. Definitely higher altitude. Breathing deep, he took a minute to take off his pack and compose himself. Keep your mind on the mission.
His traitorous mind had other plans.
Not one soul had penetrated his heart in more than nine years. And that was how he wanted it. His promise was costing him more by the minute.
The girls' voices drifted over him.
"Oh, Mom, I was so scared! I tried to call your name, but it was already too late. I just wish I could feel it sooner."
"Honey, I'm so sorry. I should've checked your temperature earlier. I'm just glad you're okay." Jenna touched noses with her daughter. "You'd think in two-degree weather, we wouldn't have to worry about it, huh?"
Andie's giggles floated in the air around him. "Mom, you crack me up. I'm so glad you're my mom. I don't know what I'd do without you."
"Same here, kiddo. Thank God He saw fit to give you to me."
Cole turned away from the scene. Then why does He take people away?
Clouds continued to swirl and gather around the peaks of Denali and Sultana. The weather wouldn't hold much longer. They had to move.
"Jenna, Andie," he barked. "Time to go."
Jenna turned and approached him slowly. "Cole. Thank you." Placing one hand over her chest and another on his arm, she continued, "I can't tell you what it means—"
"Not a problem. But we need to get moving." His words impaled her smile, but this was solid ground. The mission. "There's a storm coming. I can feel it."
Hurt shone in her eyes. "Okay." She went back to Andie. "Honey, we need to go."
In silence, they replaced packs and adjusted ropes.
"We're ready, Cole." Andie gave him a thumbs-up and lifted her ski mask over her head. A smile shaped her lips, but her complexion was pale.
"You all right?"
"I'm tired. But if I don't keep moving, my body will just quit."
Cole turned to Jenna for help. What did that mean?
Jenna's eyes were guarded. "Don't push too hard."
He could read between the lines. If something happened, she'd blame him. Well, that wasn't going to happen. He pasted on a smile and looked to Andie. "All right, Einstein. I want you right behind me this time, and I mean directly behind me, okay?" He attached another shorter rope between just the two of them. "If you need anything, tug on this rope, and if you slip or misstep, I'll feel the tug. Keep your coat around your waist for right now, but keep your skin covered. Got it?"
"Got it."
"Let's go."
Snow began to fall. He kept their pace slower and more cautious. Snow crunched beneath his boots as his crampons took hold each icy step. If the situation wasn't so dire, he'd be enjoying this trek. Sultana was a steep climb, but she was beautiful. Every time the sun broke through the clouds, the snow turned into a million, brilliant prisms.
An all-too-familiar sound broke through his reverie. He put up his hand and looked down at the girls. "Stop. Quiet."
Tearing off his goggles and hat, he strained his ears, listening to every sound. The clouds partially below them now cut off his line of sight, so he focused all his energy on his hearing.
Then it came . . . the steady thump. Like an airborne heartbeat.
A chopper.
"Cole!" Excitement filled Jenna's voice. "Cole! They're here! They're here to rescue us! Go down, let's go down!"
"No!" He knew that helo. It wasn't rangers.
The girls stopped in their tracks.
Jenna stared him down. "Why?" She yanked at her goggles and mask, eyes fixed on his face. She must have read the answer there, because horror filled her eyes and her face drained of color. "No. You mean . . . ?"
"We need cover, and fast. If they spot us up here, they won't hesitate to kill us."
Andie and Jenna drew close. Cole checked out the surroundings. About twenty yards east a rock outcropping might provide cover. He prayed the ledge would be enough. His gut told him they were in for more than the girls could handle.
Pointing to the area, he waited for Jenna's nod. He grabbed the girls' hands. "Okay, dig your crampons in with each step so you have a grip, we're going to move as fast as we can."
With a deep breath, he charged forward, dragging them along.
The thwump-thwump of the helo's blades grew closer.
Each step took great effort. Clunky boots sinking into the deep snow. His arms stretched behind as he pulled and tugged the girls, leaning all his weight forward, the ropes were taut. Just a few more feet. His muscles burned, his lungs starving for air. Just . . . a few . . . more . . .
Diving for the small area under the rocky ledge, he pulled Jenna and Andie with him. They collapsed in the snow, chests heaving, gasping for oxygen.
He glanced below. Clouds moved in and out. The helicopter shifted with the wind and snow, but clearly hovered over the crash site. Minutes dragged by. Ten, then fifteen . . . If only he could see!
A break in the clouds gave him a brief view. Ropes swung below the helo. They must be checking the plane. A curse blew out his lips. It would give away the one card he had left—that Andie and Jenna were still alive.
A huge blast of Arctic air hit them, throwing them back against the rocks. At least the bad weather was working in their favor. C
ole leaned back out to check the chopper. The ropes were being pulled back up as it rocked and swayed in the wind. But it continued to hover.
Too much time had passed. His brain grasped for escape options. But then, another break in the clouds opened a full view to him. "Oh, no." All the air in his lungs left him in a great whoosh as he anticipated the next move from the enemy below.
"Cover your ears!" Looking back at the girls, he yanked the ropes closer to him, pulling them in from the edge.
The short whistle of the missile barreling toward its target preceded a deafening explosion.
Both girls screamed, their gazes glued to the blast.
Cole glanced down. A giant fireball exploded and then grew in huge waves of flame and smoke, like an angry beast devouring everything in its path.
CRACK!!
The mountain rumbled around them and Cole threw himself over Andie, shoving her as far under the rock as possible. "Jenna!" He grabbed for her, even as his head collided with the massive ledge—and light disappeared.
CHAPTER EIGHT
ANDIE
April 7
Sultana, Denali National Park
1:59 p.m.
The snow roared and thundered around us.
Hank was dead.
God, why?
"We'll send someone back for him. He'll be fine."
Fine? This is what you call fine? He's dead! I balled my hands into fists. If we had taken him with us, he could still be alive.
But then we wouldn't have been.
No sooner had we gotten under the hanging-rock-cliff-thing than the snow pummeled down. If it hadn't been for Cole, we would have been dead.
I couldn't believe it. Didn't want to believe it. Someone was really after us, and wanted to kill us. My body trembled.
Hank was dead; we could have been dead.
We could die . . . We probably would die.
What was happening? All I knew at the moment was we were safe under a gigantic rock with an avalanche in action.
And I was cold.
But I felt safe.
My head rested against something that heaved up and down in a slow pattern.
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