Maeve can’t help but notice that Karo’s hand is still shaking slightly; there’s a note of panic to her voice. Sim sets the foil trays down to one side.
“Why can’t we all go?”
Dan shoots him a look. “All of us trying to get down over the lower ridge would just be foolish.” He shakes his head, as if the decision has already been made. “Too risky.”
“Wait—” Maeve’s breath catches. In her mind, she is already halfway down the slope, heels digging into the ice, elbows drawn in tight for balance, away-away-away and home. Desperate to leave this place. “Slow down. No one wants to be left behind.”
But Dan is glued to the survey, trying to figure out a route down, what supplies they’ll need to bring. She’s not sure he’s heard her. Karo just looks relieved.
“Fine,” Karo says, speaking only to Dan now. “Then who? Let’s get a team together.”
Maeve is jarred by her response; this is all happening too quickly.
“If we can get down there, even close to the village,” Dan says, mostly to himself. “Set off some flares. Get some attention. Something to alert the emergency crews.”
What used to be an easy hike just a few miles down the road is now going to require a different kind of travel altogether. The debris field to either side of them is bound to be unstable. Dan raps the desk with a knuckle as he thinks.
“The best plan would be to circumvent the worst of it somehow.”
“Go around?” Justin says. “Around where? Around how?” He brushes at his face, jittery.
“Go up.” Sim traces the survey with a finger, looking at the topography. “You’d have to go up and then down a different way.”
Dan shakes his head again. “That doesn’t work, either.” The issue is the instability, he says, of the slab.
The issue is that it hasn’t ever stopped snowing.
“I think we’d need to count on eight hours, maybe longer, to cut along the outer edges safely.”
“So we can’t leave until tomorrow morning anyway,” Maeve says, insisting on the we.
But the words are barely out of her mouth before Karo interrupts: “Tomorrow is too late.”
She seems to be riding an edge; she’s not her usual self but some different, urgent version.
“Okay, so we bring shelter and supplies, just in case,” Dan says. “I’d rather go now. I feel useless here.”
Sadie pulls a notebook from the desk drawer.
“I, for one, am dying to get out of here,” she says to the room at large. “What do we need? I’ll make a list.”
Maeve blinks, then looks around, trying to gauge the others’ reactions. What Dan’s proposing seems crazy to her—heading down the mountain with darkness falling and no idea what lies ahead. If Anna’s death has shown them anything, isn’t it how dangerous exposure really is?
But Karo doesn’t argue with the idea. She looks gaunt; she’s drawn her hands behind her back.
If Anna’s death has shown them anything, it’s that someone here isn’t really what they seem. Maeve is damned if she’s going to walk out into the storm with any of them. With someone who left Anna to die in the cold.
But the only alternative is to stay behind at the center. Trapped. Is that really any better?
“Devil’s advocate—” Maeve begins.
Justin sighs loudly. “Here we go.”
“I thought you were done being an asshole,” Sim says. “No? Not yet?”
Maeve takes a breath and tries again: “If it’s only a matter of hours to reach the village, then why hasn’t any help arrived so far?” She rocks back a little as though she’s already anticipating a fight. “What if the situation is worse than we’ve imagined? What if High Water village is—”
Justin gestures for her to spit it out.
“What?”
“Buried,” Maeve says finally. “I don’t think we’d want to find ourselves stranded out there in the dark.”
Dan cracks his neck, impatient. It irritates her.
“Lots of good reasons we haven’t had a crew up here yet,” he says. “Maybe the road is blocked down at the village too and they’re waiting for help themselves. We’d be next in line.”
He pauses just long enough for Maeve to open her mouth to respond—then he cuts her off again.
“Or it could mean they were evacuated.”
“Still a better chance of a radio signal down there,” Karo says, her tone rising. “Or cell service, even. Or—”
“Or we keep going farther down,” Dan says. Smooth and even. “We go until we find someone.”
Sadie sighs audibly, pen still poised in hand. “We’re wasting time,” she says. “And daylight.”
“If we can get down, we can get help back up here,” Dan says. He turns to Karo as though the conversation with Maeve never happened. “I’ll guide them myself.”
There’s a bristling energy among them all. Everyone wants to be first to see that rescue crew. First off the mountain. Justin almost bouncing on his feet. Only Sim has gone quiet: he’s looking down at the map curiously, as if he’s picking out some detail that no one else sees.
Maeve weighs the possible outcomes, reversing her position over and over. What if she’s overreacting? At least heading down the mountain is movement. Action.
But what if the village is evacuated when they get there? She corrects herself: If they get there. And there’s no signal after all. A night in an icebound tent, or two nights.
And one of them—maybe—Anna’s killer.
It feels as though her heart is not beating inside her, but trembling. Like she might throw up. She takes a deep breath and expels it slowly.
Sadie taps her pen, starting to lose her cool.
Karo reaches over to pat her hand, stilling it.
“Dan’s right,” Karo says. “I never meant to suggest we should all go. It’s too much of a risk, especially once it gets dark.”
“Two of us,” Dan says. “I really think it’s better.”
Safer to go or safer to stay here? It’s not about getting home faster. It’s about getting home at all. At least the center is a kind of shelter.
A shelter with doors that lock.
“I’ll stay behind,” Maeve says. Her voice wavers: the words pushed out before she can change her mind. The others pause. Sim, his focus back on Maeve now, gives her a slow nod.
Dan turns to Karo. “You see? Maeve gets it. It makes more sense.” He glances at the survey again. “Karo and I will go.”
“No—” Justin smacks the table. “No way, you’re not going alone.”
“I always get left behind—” Sadie flicks her pen across the table, hostile.
But even Karo is noticeably shaken. It occurs to Maeve that Karo doesn’t want to make the trek herself, she simply wants someone to do it.
Or maybe Karo knows something, and she wants someone—but who?—gone.
A hand on her back. Surprised, Maeve turns to find Sim sliding in next to her, too close. He nods at her again and it’s weirdly intimate. Like he’s responding to a question she didn’t ask.
She steps to one side, shaky. If Karo and Dan leave, the four of them will be alone here—just Maeve and Sim playing house, forced to manage petulant Sadie and spurned Justin. Glancing over at Justin now, Maeve sees the same weird energy coursing through him—angry, anxious. He can’t keep still. If she didn’t know better, she’d say he was coked up. Maybe he is.
Maeve focuses on the survey instead, the elevation marked in uneven, wobbly rings. You can’t be afraid of everyone, she thinks. There must be someone you can trust.
“Well, I’m not staying,” Justin says.
Everyone looks up.
“See?” Sadie throws an arm up and lets it fall, exasperated.
“I’m not staying here,” Justin says again. “Why should I? Why? To freeze, like Anna? No. If someone’s going down the mountain, I’m going too. We should all go. Why just you, Dan? Fuck that.”
Karo steps back, re
ady to take him on, but Sim speaks first.
“It’s okay. The four of you go down, then. I’ll stay with Maeve.”
He touches Maeve’s hand and her stomach tightens. Karo is watching her. There’s something deliberate in her eyes, something sharp and mindful.
“I don’t actually need anyone to stay with me,” Maeve says. “If you’re going to send help up here, I’ll wait, I can wait alone. I just can’t risk an accident, or—or anything, really. Whatever happened to Anna.” As soon as the name is out of her mouth, Maeve regrets it. She starts again, playing it as earnestly as she can: “I have kids waiting for me at home, and as much as I want to get out of here—believe me, I do—I just can’t take any risks. I can’t.” She turns to Sim. “But that doesn’t mean you should stay here too. I’m sure you’ll be an asset on the trip.”
Sim just stares her down. Calm. His hand over hers on the table.
“I’m fine to stay,” Sim says. “I’ll keep working. I’m the one who wanted to include avalanche isolation in the brochure. Remember?”
Maeve’s head spins a little and she feels herself straighten, as though being taller will help her stay in control. She asks herself again: Is it safer to go or safer to stay here? She’s about to give up when Karo surprises her.
“No. No, I’ll stay with Maeve.”
Sim looks up sharply. Karo shakes her head at him.
“I’m the director. I can’t possibly leave anyone up here. I can’t leave at all. I’m responsible for the center,” she says. “And for Anna, for that matter.” She turns to Dan. “Sim will go down with you. You’ll go in pairs, Sim and Justin, Sadie and Dan—”
Dan cuts her off. “Sadie, no—”
“You don’t get a choice, Dan.” Sadie stands up, gathering her papers and the map. Defiant in that same way. “You’re not in charge. Do you get it? You’re not a soldier anymore, and this isn’t the army.” She gains confidence as she goes, ramping up. “You’re just a high-priced handyman now. Karo is the boss—”
“—absolutely, yes,” Karo says. “And I need Sadie to act as my proxy.”
But then she turns to Sadie herself. “Stop provoking—we all have to get along.” It’s a weak reaction, and even as Sadie swallows her yes, Dan is stepping in front of her again.
“We can’t leave two women up here alone.”
Maeve watches him. Something’s changed. He doesn’t turn, doesn’t lash out at Sadie as he has in the past. His jaw is clenched; there’s a stiff fury burning in him now, just under his skin.
Karolina smiles her professional smile.
“Of course you can. Don’t be stupid about this. You’re a fine team—go for help. It’s the smartest thing.”
“I want to stay,” Sim says. “I already said I’m staying here.” He’s speaking to Dan.
It’s Karo who answers him.
“No.” Her smile cuts off. “You can’t. We need you out there on the trail.”
She gives the survey a final glance, then walks toward her office, gesturing to Sadie to follow behind.
“I have two boxes of tools. You can take one of them. Plus whatever else we have on-site. There’s tarps and more flares down in storage, I’m sure.”
Maeve steals a look at Sim, expecting him to keep insisting, but he’s remarkably quiet. He looks thoughtful but restless.
“Okay, then,” is all he says. “Let me get my pack.”
Karo is in her office, leaning hard on the desk, when Maeve comes in. She pulls up stiffly.
“I didn’t mean to surprise you,” Maeve says. Karo adjusts the candles on her desk and gestures for her to close the door. Behind her, Sadie shuffles a few papers out of an envelope, then stares at Maeve in silence.
Or arrogance. Daring Maeve to tell.
Maeve cannot wait to be rid of her. Sadie and Dan can tear each other to pieces out in the snow for all she cares.
Karo lowers herself onto the couch by the window.
“You know,” Maeve says, “if you’d rather go, I can manage, I can—”
“You can’t.” There’s a beat. “And I can’t,” Karo says.
She’s sitting tensely, as though the very action of sitting is work; she looks like every muscle is in slight contraction.
Maeve glances at Sadie, trying to gauge whether she also finds this strange—but Sadie just looks on, impassive, shifting the papers in her hands.
“I’m upset about Anna too—” Maeve is not sure what else to say.
“Yes.” Karo squeezes the arm of the couch with taut fingers.
“But I think we need to stay focused, even us, staying here. Maybe especially because we’re staying here. You don’t seem like yourself, Karo. Maybe a cup of sweet tea or a shot of something—”
“Oh, not you too with the booze.” Karo pushes rigidly to her feet again. “You mean this.” Her voice drops to a harsh whisper, as though there might be someone outside the door, listening. She holds out her hands, which tremble in the air.
Maeve sees suddenly how pronounced it is. How much, in fact, Karo has been keeping it under control.
Karo turns her hands over, watching them shake, then lets her arms drop. She looks over to Sadie, who finally steps out from behind the desk.
“She has a condition. That’s why I’m really going down to the village—for help.”
Karo scowls at the word.
“She’s going for drugs. I control it with medication. It’s not usually a problem. I mean, you see that—you would never have guessed before today.” She’s unused to confidences, uncomfortable. “I missed a delivery, remember? The day before the avalanche. But—”
“What sort of condition?” It’s a dumb question. Maeve is struggling to catch up.
“An illness,” Sadie says, matter-of-fact. “Kind of like Parkinson’s. Most people aren’t diagnosed until they’re older.”
She takes Karolina’s arm and leads her around to the big chair behind the desk, modestly assisting. Sadie’s entire role here rapidly shifts in Maeve’s mind: she thinks back to when she first saw the tremble in Karo’s fingers. Yesterday?
“And the medication—” she begins.
Karolina eases herself down into the chair.
“For the first day or so, I didn’t worry too much. I tried just stretching out the time between doses. But it’s sensitive stuff. Normally I take it every four hours, day and night.”
“Do you have any left at all?”
“No, not anymore.”
“Does Dan know?”
“No one knows.”
Maeve blanches. She looks at Sadie again, but the girl won’t meet her gaze. Instead, she finishes sorting through her papers.
“I don’t think—”
“If they knew, they would look at me differently. I manage it extremely well—”
“But this is an emergency.”
“I won’t die from it. It’s not an illness that kills you. Not quickly like that. It’s just—without the drugs—” She stops, at a loss.
Maeve turns to Sadie, responsibility nagging at her.
“And you’re comfortable with this? With Dan?”
A flash of vulnerability passes over Sadie’s face—grim, frightened. Then it’s gone.
But Karo slams a tight fist against the desk.
“Dan is a professional. A veteran! With on-the-ground experience. And they’ll be safer all together than if two of them go alone.” She takes a breath, trying to calm herself down. “I’m asking you not to say anything. Not a word. Just let them go, do you understand? The faster we get a rescue team up here, the better.”
She reaches for Sadie’s papers—the forms that will allow her to pick up the medication in Karolina’s stead—and adds her signature to each one.
They’re ready to go before one o’clock. This still leaves them only four hours of daylight: Maeve wonders at the audacity of the plan, but they all seem galvanized. Giddy. Dan has a set of snowshoes for each of them and some overnighting equipment he’s dug out of stor
age: tarps and headlamps, a hatchet, fire starters. He’s also got a gun, a .44, which surprises Maeve. She watches him carefully loading it.
“I thought you weren’t worried,” she says.
At the sound of the barrel clicking into place, Sim lifts his head from his own packing.
“A gun’s nowhere near as useful as bear spray,” he says. His voice is calm. Casual, even. “I mean, if a bear is what you’re worried about. You know that.”
Dan just nods. There’s a pause, and then Sim goes at him again, harder this time. “So what do you need a gun for?”
“There’s a can of spray for each of us.” Dan sets the safety and slides the pistol into a holster at his hip. “I’d rather hold on to the gun myself than leave it here,” he says. “If it’s all the same to you.”
“It’s not the same to me at all. Is it the same to you, Maeve?”
But Maeve just turns away. The last thing they need now is a pissing contest.
Sim’s eyes steady on Dan. “Don’t forget you’re ex-military for a reason—”
Karo glances over, her face rigid, and signals to Sim to let it go.
Sadie is the first one ready. She sits by the door, impulsive-looking, on her pack, snow pants and parka on, hood pulled up, a ridge of dark fur framing her face. She has an air of the impostor about her, or the ingénue. Maeve thinks again how well she’d fit in, lining up in the audition hall: small and lithe, sharp-tongued and insecure. Cruising for a fight. Maeve doesn’t know whether to wish her good luck or good riddance.
Dan is assembling the last tool pack when Karo comes out of her office and catches his arm.
“Not everything. You need to leave two tarps behind and two cans of bear spray. And the extra flares.”
“You have your own toolbox—”
“I have a toolbox of my own, but I want a few extras. You can’t leave us up here high and dry.”
He stops moving, his hand curled around a flare.
“Best if you don’t go outside, Karo.”
He tucks the flare into an inner pocket of the backpack and cinches the bag tight, Karo’s hand still on his arm, her fingers digging into the plush of his jacket.
Sadie steps up, jittery with adrenaline.
“What if she has to? We can’t just take everything.”
The Retreat Page 17
