“A landslide!” said Rachel. “We’re going to drop a landslide on them.”
“If we can,” said Justin. His face showed determination and purpose, but his mind was filled with hesitation and reluctance; for he knew he was attempting to create the same catastrophe that had killed his father and his uncle.
The four pursuers had now rounded Justin’s oak tree and were about to step onto the lower ridge. They looked up uneasily at the tons of snow and debris above their heads, and even the Prophet seemed hesitant to move forward; but his determination returned, and he said, “It’s not far to the other side. Just be careful.”
“And quiet,” said Chuky. “No noise, no talk.”
The pre-teens waited until the search party was almost halfway across the lower ridge before leaping into action. At that point Justin and the girls began to push the first of the movable boulders over the edge. The huge rock tumbled down the snowpack exactly the way Justin had hoped; and he quickly turned his attention to the second boulder. “Come on, ladies, let’s do it!” When both boulders were moving, the trio stood on the rim to watch the results of their efforts. They were devastated by what they saw, for the two giant rocks had stopped rolling about a hundred yards down the incline, and the snowpack had not loosened at all. “It didn’t work,” said Justin.
The twins didn’t speak.
“Look!” screamed one of the Bitterroot guards, “Up there, above us! The kids! I saw them first. I get the bonus.” The others raised their eyes to the three tiny figures standing high above the ominous snowpack; but Chuky quickly lowered his gaze and turned to the guard to warn him about the danger of making too much noise. The guard, however, in his excitement at being the first to spot the runaways, had lost touch with reality and with the present circumstances. He removed his revolver from the holster in the small of his back, and before he could be restrained, he fired two shots in the air—the signal to summon the other search parties to the scene.
The mountain began to move, slowly at first, unnoticeably, because the actual slippage was occurring below the surface in the slush and debris beneath the hard-packed ice. But in seconds the entire hillside joined in the slide, hurtling faster and faster toward the valley below.
The men on the ridge knew they were in a terrible position. Should they turn around and race back the way they’d come, or should they try for safety on the far side? Indecision caused them to freeze in their tracks unable to function or to attempt an escape in either direction. When they came to their senses, they all began to run toward Justin’s oak tree, with J.J. Flack in the lead. “You bloody fool!” he shouted back at the guard who had fired the pistol, “you’ve killed us!”
The young people watched in wonder as the scene developed below them. “The gunshots did it!” cried Janie. “Why would they fire a gun down there?”
“Because one of them is stupid,” said Justin. “I’d guess it was a signal of some sort. They couldn’t hope to hit us at this distance.”
The landslide had now reached its maximum velocity, and it was clear the four men would soon be engulfed; but they had not given up and were making a last ditch effort to save their lives. The Prophet was still in the lead, with Chuky close behind and the guards in the rear.
“They’ll never make it!” Justin shouted, his voice almost drowned out by the roar of the landslide. “Flack’s close, but not close enough. He’ll be swept away with the others. Watch.” It was a ridiculous command, for there was no way the girls would turn away from what was happening to their pursuers. The disaster below was like a high-energy action movie being screened solely for their benefit. The Prophet lengthened his stride in desperation, and the squat Chuky somehow managed to keep pace. The guards were now lagging badly, almost as if they had caught a vision of their doom and were resigned to it. The wave of snow and rubble caught the two men in mid-stride and lifted them high in the air and hurled them hundreds of feet into the valley.
“And now for the Siberian,” said Justin, “and then Flack himself.”
But Chuky apparently had other ideas, at least when it came to his boss. A fraction of a second before the wall of snow reached them, Chuky dove forward into the Prophet’s back and propelled him out of the path of danger. Chuky himself was not so lucky. He fell face down some distance behind Flack; and the edge of the landslide struck him at the waist, spun him around, and buried his head beneath thirty feet of snow.
19
Blizzard
It had snowed without stopping throughout the day. Large billowy flakes stuck to the ground and accumulated in piles and drifts that made hiking without snowshoes extremely difficult. Each step the runaways took was a challenge—knee deep in slush, strain to extract the leg, and repeat the process over and over again.
“I’m tired and I’m hungry,” said Janie. “Let’s stop for a rest and some more rabbit. We’ve put a lot of miles between us and the search party by now.”
Justin pulled his leg from the deep snow. “There’s a cedar grove up ahead. We can rest there, but we’d better save the second rabbit for later. We don’t know when we’ll find something else to eat.”
Rachel said, “Rest then. Janie and I are dead on our feet.”
At the cedar grove they found a spot where the falling snow was partially blocked by the trees, and they spread out their silver tarp as if they were preparing for a picnic. Janie and Rachel collapsed in exhaustion, and Justin stood looking at the dark sky.
“Boy, would that second rabbit taste good right now,” said Rachel. But she laughed to make it clear she knew that Justin was right in saving their food until it might be needed desperately.
“They’ll never be able to track us in all this goop,” said Janie.
“No,” said Justin, “but I’ll bet they have snowshoes, and that means they can move a lot faster than we can.”
“If they’re moving at all,” said Janie. “When we saw the Prophet stumbling down the mountain, he looked like he might run all the way back to Sheba Hill.”
“Not likely,” said Justin. “He’ll chase you two till his last breath.”
The remaining eight members of the search party had set up a base camp north of the valley the landslide had destroyed. The bruised and bandaged Prophet sat under a sloping awning that had been strung to protect him from the falling snow. One of the Sheba Hill guards approached him and began to speak; but the Prophet raised his hand to indicate the guard should wait. “Weather report,” said the Prophet, pointing to the radio. “Let’s hear what they’ve got to say.”
…And the storms will produce blizzard conditions for much of western Montana and eastern Idaho. If you don’t have to go out, remain in your homes for the next day and a half, beginning at ten or eleven p.m….
“Maybe we’d better head back to the lodge,” said the guard.
The Prophet shot him an icy stare, “We’re not going anywhere. We’ve got everything we need right here. We’ll wait it out and then be ready to move out when it blows over.”
“Sometimes these blizzards are—”
“That’s final, no more talk. Tell the others to tie everything down.”
“The Missoula men are drunk.”
“Let them stay that way. Just so they’re sober when the storm passes.”
The guard hesitated, looked at the ground and then at the awning. It was obvious he had something on his mind. “Sir, I—”
“Yes, what is it, man? Get on with it.”
“Well, some of us were wondering about the bodies out there—Chuky and the others. Shouldn’t we try to recover them…maybe before the storm hits full force?”
Flack rose to his feet impatiently, stepping close to the guard until their faces were only inches apart. It was a tactic he used frequently, one he’d learned from his father and grandfather: intimidate your subordinates by smothering them with your physical presence. Don’t give them any room to maneuver, and they’ll stand like statues until you’ve had your say!
The Sh
eba Hill guard blinked and opened his eyes wide, waiting for a decision, but he did manage to insert a short comment. “Sir, the bodies…”
“Will stay right where they are until we’re ready to go back for them. Right now they’re buried so deep we’d need mining equipment to dig them out. And it’s possible we won’t get to them until the spring thaw. They’re dead, you know. There’s no question of rescue.”
The guard was trembling under the pressure of the confrontation with his spiritual master. The Prophet had not withdrawn his long, bandaged face; and the guard didn’t feel it was advisable to be the first one to back off. Finally, Flack moved away and resumed his seat. “That’s all. Tell the others.”
“We’ll get ready for the storm.”
“See that you do.”
As the guard was leaving the protection of the awning, he said, “Won’t those kids die in a blizzard?”
“Maybe yes, maybe no. We’ll have to wait and see. I know one thing—that’s no ordinary little boy out there.”
Justin continued to watch the western sky. “This fluffy snowfall is going to seem like cotton candy when the real stuff hits. Look at those black clouds building up over the mountains. We’re going to get hit, and we’d better do something fast.”
“A blizzard?” asked Rachel.
“Probably,” said Justin. “I’ve seen winter clouds like that a hundred times.”
“When will it come?” asked Janie.
“Tonight, I think. We’ve got to get out of the storm’s path.”
“How? Where can we go? Will there be wind—strong wind? Another lean-to would blow down like the little pig’s stick house.”
Justin smiled. “You’re right, Janie, no lean-to tonight. I’ve got something much more stable in mind, an old Eskimo trick.” He looked around, examining the cedar trees. He eventually found one with a massive pile of snow surrounding the trunk. “This one will do nicely,” he said.
“Nicely for what?” asked Rachel.
“For a tree-pit snow shelter. The snowpack around this cedar is fine, maybe five-feet deep. We dig a big round hole, all the way to the ground—even below ground if we can. We use the trunk of the tree for our center pole. We put boughs on the sides and on the floor. The tree above will act as a kind of roof, but we use more boughs and the tarp to cover the hole. We’ll be making a type of igloo.”
“We can spread pine needles on the floor, too,” said Janie. “That’ll make it warmer and softer.”
“Right.”
“How do we dig?” asked Rachel.
“With our hands and with flat rocks and flat sticks. Start looking.”
They hollowed a large space around the trunk of the cedar tree. They dug five feet down to ground level, and then Justin insisted they go down an additional foot, scooping out the dirt with a firm strip of birch bark. Then they packed the snow on the sides and lined the entire space with evergreen boughs of various sizes. The girls then dumped armfuls of pine needles into the hole and Rachel said, “Like a soft mattress.” Finally, they anchored the boughs and the tarp on the roof with ten large stones. “Overkill, maybe,” said Justin, “but we want our roof to stay put.”
“Two roofs,” said Janie. “The tree is our roof, too.”
“That’s the plan.”
The snowfall had now diminished, and darkness had not yet fallen; so Justin took the opportunity to build a fire close to the cedar tree shelter. “It’ll keep us warm until we have to get down inside, and then we can take some heated rocks with us. You’ll be surprised how much they’ll help down there. But now we’ll make some pine-needle tea.”
“No rabbit though?” asked Janie.
Justin reached into his coat to retrieve the second of the two rabbits they’d roasted that morning. “Well, maybe a bite or two each. But we save the rest for the blizzard. We’ll be getting awfully hungry down in that hole.”
At the base camp the searchers were also preparing for the storm, but with considerably more equipment and supplies. With air mattresses, arctic sleeping bags, and insulated tents, none of the eight men was overly concerned about the danger involved; but nevertheless, the Sheba Hill guards went about securing their provisions to make certain nothing blew away or was dislodged by powerful winds. The Missoula men were still half drunk, but the Prophet insisted they peg their tents securely and make certain their supplies were stowed correctly.
The radio weatherman was now predicting the storm would arrive earlier than expected and the advance elements would reach the Bitterroots between eight and nine p.m.
The three twelve year olds had retreated to their tree-pit snow shelter. They’d nibbled on their remaining rabbit, sipped hot pine-needle tea, and stayed by their blazing fire as long as possible; but now the wind and the driving sleet and snow had forced them to collect their heated rocks and escape to the protection of their vertical cave. The rocks were effective, and at first the tight little shelter was quite warm; but within an hour the warmth began to dissipate, and the trio began to shiver and huddle together to share body heat. Outside they could hear as the storm screamed through the cedar grove, uprooting any tree that didn’t have an extensive root system and then shredding the tree with loud pops and cracks that sounded as if a hunter were firing a high-powered rifle. Justin looked at the thick trunk in the center of their refuge. “I’m glad we chose this one. It’ll be here a hundred years from now.”
“I’m glad we’re in here and not out there,” said Janie.
“We’d be dead in an hour,” said Justin.
Rachel listened to the whistling wind and moved even closer to her two companions. “If we’d been good little girls,” she said, “we’d be in Sheba Hill right now, warm and safe with full bellies.”
“About to marry the demon who murdered our sister,” said Janie.
At the mention of Mary, their older sister, both girls were silent for a long period; and then Rachel said, “Well, not exactly. If we’d been good little girls we wouldn’t have set fire to Hank Biggars’ place, and we’d be about to marry a lesser demon.”
“Some choice,” said Janie.
“It doesn’t matter anyway,” said Rachel, “because I think by now we’ve proven we’re not good little girls.”
The storm howled throughout the night and continued through mid morning; but by noon it had departed and was well on its way, in a weakened condition, to the Great Plains.
Justin left the tree-pit shelter first to start the fire; and by the time he called the girls, he had produced a hot blaze that would warm his two cold, damp friends. After the twins had come out and had spent some time by the fire, he told them he was going out to reconnoiter—to see what damage the storm had done and also to see what he could find in the way of food. He assured them he wouldn’t be gone long. He then showed them that while they were still inside the shelter, he’d fashioned snowshoes from evergreen boughs. He tied the boughs around his boots with his laces, and he explained that while the snowshoes looked pretty dumb, he was fairly certain they would do the job. He pointed to two more sets of shaped boughs and explained that he had made snowshoes for the girls as well. He tramped about thirty feet from the fire, turned and called out, “They work! A little awkward but I think they’re going to be okay. I’m not sinking in.”
The cedar grove looked as if a timber crew had come through with chain saws. Fallen trees lay everywhere. Justin was now more thankful than ever that the cedar he had chosen for their shelter was fat and sturdy, because if it had collapsed during the night, he and the twins would have been ripped out of their sanctuary.
He found a stand of pine trees and managed to knock down some cones with a long stick he found not far away. He knew the tiny pine nuts inside the cones would provide some nourishment, but only from the cones still on the trees. The nuts in pine cones on the ground would be dry and inedible.
He came within thirty feet of two confused mule deer that appeared to be on the same mission he was—to locate food of any kind as so
on as possible. He knew he had no chance of bringing down one of the deer, for even if he managed to hit one with his throwing stick, the deer would merely shrug and trot away. But the thought of freshly roasted venison was almost too much for him to tolerate.
About ten minutes later he crossed what he thought might be the tracks of a black bear. He assumed that the blizzard had roused the bear and had sent him out to see what had disturbed his sleep. Justin made it a point to veer off from the tracks. A grumpy black bear was precisely what he didn’t need. He also came upon the tracks of a particularly large moose, and he took the same tack that he had with the bear. An angry moose might be even more dangerous than a bear.
No rabbits, no squirrels, no field mice or rats. All the small creatures had enough sense to stay in their burrows until they were sure the blizzard could no longer harm them. He looked for termites and grubs and insects of all kinds, but found none; so he headed back to the shelter with only the pine cones he had stuffed in his pockets.
Back at the tree pit he showed the girls the pine cones he had knocked out of the trees, and showed them how to peel away the outer layers to get at the nuts.
“Not much to chew on,” said Janie when she found a nut.
“No, but eat all you can,” said Justin, “and now’s the time for the rest of our rabbit. We’ll need strength for our trek up the mountain.”
In the searchers’ base camp the four Missoula men were finishing a heavy meal of meat, powdered eggs, fried potatoes, and energy drinks. The three Sheba Hill guards and J.J. Flack had eaten a half hour earlier and were now in the process of putting on their snowshoes.
The tallest of the Missoula men said irritably, “This is useless. Those brats are dead—no way they lasted through that blizzard. They’re splashed all over the bottom of some canyon, waiting for a mountain lion to drag their bodies off.”
RUNAWAY TWINS (Runaway Twins series #1) Page 9
