by Hunt, Jack
At first, Kara said nothing. It certainly made sense as to why he was trying to convince her father and had gotten so riled up when he’d refused, and why he sought her out. Her name was down in the event anything untoward happened to her father. The business would go to her. “What kind of debt?”
Frank chuckled. “The kind of debt that makes bad men show up at your door. And I’m not talking about banks.” He lowered his chin. “It’s over my head now.”
“What have you got yourself involved in, Frank?”
He screwed up his nose. “It doesn’t matter. What matters is this. You. Him. Getting out of this damn wilderness.”
She nodded, more questions arising but instead of asking she let it go. “I know one thing for sure… when I get out of here I’m going to make some changes.”
Frank studied her, nodding ever so slowly.
Hours later, long into the evening, Frank slipped back into his dry clothes and they bedded down for the night. The quiet of the backcountry took over, Kara’s mind wandering. Frank got this quizzical expression.
“Look at that,” he said, lifting a stick to the sky, wide-eyed and full of wonder.
“The Northern Lights. I’d forgotten how beautiful it is,” Kara said.
Above, stretching out across the sky, was a colorful array of lights that shimmered and danced, like the ocean’s waves — pale shades of green and pink, a rippling curtain that illuminated the night with an eerie glow. Some of the natives believed that it was the souls of animals dancing while others felt it was a harbinger of something far worse to come. With all the unfortunate events that had transpired, she hoped it was the former.
28
Day four saw improved weather but even more challenging terrain. Aching from the cold night, Kara looked at Frank who was still asleep. Her watch flashed. It was just after eight. They had overslept and were already burning through the morning hours. Outside it was still dark but faint rays were beginning to peek on the horizon. She sat up and checked her father’s pulse. Slow and steady. Hunger pangs persisted, a burning sensation in the pit of her stomach. After working her way out of the opening, Kara collected water from a trickling stream coursing down the mountain. As the container filled she looked off toward the direction they would head in, pondering the hidden perils. It was quiet outside in comparison to the blustery winds they’d experienced the day before, though she knew looks could be deceiving. With no storm, it meant they needed to move fast as the weather could change in a heartbeat.
“Frank. Get up, we need to go.”
He groaned as he stirred, stretching, and working out the tension from his muscles. After giving her father a drink to keep him hydrated, she handed Frank the bottle and began to drag her father out. They had to get through the pass today and off the mountain. With so many days already behind them, she knew the odds of her father surviving were low, and once the freeze-up occurred the chances of staying alive dropped dramatically. Hunched over, Frank emerged from the opening, his cheeks red, his face weathered.
Not wasting time they began the arduous trek through the narrowing valley. The uneven ground rose slowly as they pressed on, making each stride harder than the last. Dragging her father over flat ground was tiring but now it felt like they were hauling a huge granite boulder. The rope bit into her shoulder so hard that it caused a blister to form.
The steeper the climb, the more it felt like the rope would snap. Kara looked back down through the valley toward the lake and trees in the far distance. Hours, days they’d been traveling. “Look how far we’ve come,” she said, trying to use it as motivation when their morale was low. She looked at the way ahead. The only way was up. A steady climb, a vigorous workout for their thighs that would have tested even the fittest. It was as if gravity itself wanted to stop them, hold them back, and trap them in the valley. With every step, her mind pleaded for her to rest, but she ignored it, refusing to be a slave to her limitations.
Frank grunted and panted hard while she gritted her teeth as the air got thinner.
They no longer spoke to one another. The only time they slowed or stopped was for her to check on her father.
Having used all of the branches from the previous night, and seeing no trees or plants this high up, only snow, Kara knew there was no turning back. They were in no man’s land, the in-between, a place where nothing lived except harsh cold and brutal conditions. The rise and fall of rock beneath them varied but the incline kept steadily increasing. The direction only shifted according to the obstacles that lay ahead. At times they stayed in a line, heading straight forward, their faces set like a flint. The next moment it would change and they would zigzag up the slope the way mountain climbers might ascend to the summit. The sun was still rising, its warmth barely noticeable. Their shadows stretched behind them. No doubt they appeared as nothing more than dark pinpricks from above. Even if a plane flew over, the chances of a pilot spotting them were slim to none.
Hours rolled by, the ground felt like a treadmill taking them nowhere but to more of the same — snow, peaks, craggy cliffs, and endless winding lines disappearing into the void. It was like driving on a straight road, hypnotic, mesmerizing, torturous.
As the ground leveled, and the valley narrowed, the land became more like a canyon with low cliffs that steered their path. Ahead, as far as they could see, the rocky bluffs gave way to the mountains — like upright fingers, one higher than the next. Releasing the rope, Frank slumped to his knees, breathing hard. She waited for a second, expecting him to get up, but he didn’t. He waved her off, struggling to speak as she bent over to check on him.
Kara held on to his arm, trying to help him up. “C’mon, Frank.”
“No, I have to rest.” He pulled his arm away.
Kara shook her head as she looked up ahead. “The river is beyond this pass, it’s not much farther, we need to keep going.”
“That’s what you said earlier. We’ve been walking for hours and miles.”
“It’s not much longer. We can make it if we—”
“I can’t do it,” he yelled. “Okay?” He was down on his hands and knees, head between his arms as if he was praying. “You didn’t fall in freezing water. You’re younger than I am. I’m just an old man.” The excuses spilled out, one after the other, the mind conjuring every reason it could, preferring ease over the strenuous.
There was no denying he was exhausted.
His breathing was rapid, his eyes clenched shut as he rolled onto his back, releasing hot breath like smoke from a chimney.
Pain had become the default.
She studied his face, then her father’s. Panting hard, Kara took a moment, slumping down beside him, shaking her head, thinking of what to say to keep him going. She was tired too, and there was nothing more she wanted than to sleep, but they were in an unforgiving landscape, a merciless plain that would end their lives at the slightest inkling of weakness. “So you just want to give up?” she asked, breathing hard. “Huh? Is that it? You want us to lay here until we freeze to death?” She picked at the snow. Frank said nothing. “No one is coming for us. Getting off this mountain is down to you and me.”
“I don’t care anymore,” he said in almost a whisper.
Kara nodded. “But your family does.”
That got a reaction out of him.
Frank pummeled the ground beside him with a fist.
But that still wasn’t enough.
“Do you know one thing that every single person who managed to survive a situation like this had in common?”
There was a pause.
“Huh?” she beckoned for an answer.
“I don’t care. Do you not understand!?” he bellowed into the sky as if he was directing his anger toward the wilderness more than her.
“Think about it, Frank.”
His features changed as he began to chuckle, a delirious laugh. “You and your father, you’re the same. Always pushing, never listening. It always has to be your way.” He sat up panting h
ard but she could see his laughter quickly subsiding and giving way to anger.
“One thing they have in common, Frank?”
“I don’t care. Okay? Don’t you get it? It’s over. Done.” He began to cry, rocking back and forth on his knees, staring into his gloves. It was hard not to pity him.
There was a short stretch of silence.
Kara stared at the ground. “You know when I was in that river. The night I lost my mother. I was exhausted, tossed around by the water, cold, struggling to catch my breath. It was dark, I was scared, and all I wanted to do was let go. Give up and join her. I figured it was going to happen anyway, so why fight it? But then something happened. I’m not sure why. I don’t confess to know how the human brain works but… I saw someone. A face. Something that gave me the will to live.” Kara looked over; he didn’t appear to be paying attention but she continued. “It wasn’t her face, it was my father’s.”
Frank looked at her.
“What do you want to live for, Frank? Your kids, Jacqueline?”
He gritted his teeth and stabbed an angry finger at her. “Don’t you dare mention them!”
“See, you still have some fight in you. Harness it.”
He laughed. “Drawing upon summer camp experience? Is that what those counselors taught you?”
“Something like that.”
He shook his head. “Well, it’s not summer here.” He grabbed handfuls of snow and tossed it, and it blew back in his face. He dipped his chin, inhaling deeply. Curiosity soon got the better of him. “So? What did they have in common?”
“They thought about family, those they wanted to live for.”
Frank wiped tears from his face. “We’re all alone out here, aren’t we?”
She nodded. “It’s just us.”
He sighed and whether it was her words, the thought of his family, or he’d tapped into a reserve reservoir of energy, Frank staggered to his feet, picked up the rope, and slung it over his shoulder. Kara did the same and they soldiered on.
29
Caught between a rock and hard place, more snow fell and the wind howled. It was like Mother Nature was trying to persuade them to turn back or lay down and die, but they refused. They were now beyond the point of no return.
Kara’s eyes watered. The lower half of her face was hidden below a thin layer of T-shirt she’d wrapped around it. It wasn’t ideal but it prevented the tip of her nose from getting frostbite.
She’d seen photos of climbers returning with blackened cheeks and noses.
Nope, not her.
Before them lay the jagged, snowcapped mountain range, an almost impenetrable fortress of frozen waves that rose to the peaks, thousands of feet high and stretched for miles like an army shoulder to shoulder. They stopped for a second to get their bearings, to make sure they were still heading in the right direction.
The pass led out of the range, like a river, a thin line that could easily be lost among the white and gray shades of rock.
Kara pointed, blinking ice crystals out of her eyes. “There!”
Although they didn’t have to traverse a glacier with crevasses, like the Chickaloon and Talkeetna to the west, or the Matanuska to the south, the jumbled terrain was still extremely treacherous with snow covering huge swaths of rock. The chance of a snow bridge collapsing or falling into a crevice covered by snow weighed heavily on her mind. Every step felt like they were playing Russian roulette with their lives.
“We should tie ourselves together,” she said.
“We already are,” Frank muttered, referring to the loops of rope around their shoulders extending down to her father’s stretcher.
“No, I mean just in case there are any hidden crevices. One drop and it could be over.”
He nodded.
Kara removed the rope from her pack, sliced off a good amount, and wound it around her waist, then tied it off, Frank did the same. If either one of them plunged into a crevice and bounced off the side, the damage could be fatal.
Like mountain climbers ascending a slope, being tied together only worked if one of them went ahead of the other, so that’s what they did. She would lead the way, the rope between her and Frank was around fifteen feet long, there was enough slack but not enough that it would drag on the ground.
Frank now had both of his arms in the loops of rope that hauled the stretcher. Kara would test the way ahead using her stick and hopefully, things would go to plan. Problem was, for all the caution they took, plans had a way of going awry in the mountains. Kara dipped the walking stick into the soft snow, taking a few steps, and doing it again. So much snow had already fallen that there was still a chance that what felt solid beneath might not hold once her full weight was on it.
“Hold up!” she said, raising a clenched fist.
It didn’t take long to encounter the next challenge, a snow bridge spanning a gaping crack in the mountain plateau. The general advice was to never go on or under a snow bridge, especially in the summer months when the warmth of the sun could weaken its structural integrity. But it was cold up here, far cooler than down the mountain. Though there was a chance it could hold their weight, was that a gamble she was ready to take? What was good yesterday could be less reliable today. The space from edge to edge was a good eight feet, and at least twenty feet deep.
Kara cast a glance to the left and right, looking for another way around but there was nothing but sheer rock face as the valley narrowed into a hairpin turn. They could walk a few miles back and find an alternate route, making their way up to the ridgeline in the distance, but that would add a hell of a lot more time on the day and they were already burning daylight. It also could hold other pitfalls. No, they needed to get through the pass and down the mountain today.
If it was just Frank and her, they could jump across but her father? She ran a hand over her face and cursed. That caught Frank’s attention, he made his way behind her to get a better look. The moment he looked down he flipped out. “I knew it. I fucking knew it!” He punched the air. “Damn it!”
Kara brought a clenched hand to her mouth, tapping it slowly as she contemplated.
“Well that’s it,” he said, immediately giving up.
“No, it’s not.”
“Oh, you expect us to jump it? Huh? Yeah, sure, hold on a moment while I throw your one hundred and eighty-pound father across.” He shook his head in disbelief.
“Frank, this is all that stands between us and the pass. If I knew for sure there was another way around, maybe we could have taken it but we might just encounter the same thing or even worse.”
He scoffed. “Worse. How could you get worse than this?”
“You can jump it.”
“Sure, but we don’t know how solid the edges are. I’ve seen these things crumble, sending climbers into darkness. And what about your father?”
Kara took the walking stick and prodded the edges near the bridge. A few chunks of snow tumbled into the abyss, however, when she tested the bridge itself, it felt solid, almost like ice. At that altitude, bombarded by the high winds, it wouldn’t have had a chance to melt or weaken. At least not yet.
“Unless you want to walk a few miles and try another route then…” she trailed off.
“I’m not stepping out on that. Prodding a stick a few inches out from the edge doesn’t mean the rest is stable. I could walk four feet into the middle of that and it could be weaker there.”
“You’re right,” she replied, nodding as she took out what remaining rope they had left. “Listen, I can’t hold your weight but you can hold mine.”
“And your father?”
She looked back, grimacing at the thought of it going wrong. “You can jump over. Once you’re on the other side, I will take a run at the bridge and drag him over. If it crumbles, you’ve got me, I’ve got him.”
“If it crumbles?” he said. “You, drag him? I think the thin air has killed a few brain cells. No way!” He waved her off.
“You didn’t let me finis
h.” She tossed the rope to him. “Once you’re on the other side, tie yourself off to that boulder.” He looked behind him then back at her.
“If I say no, you’re going to do it yourself, aren’t you?”
She nodded.
Frank sighed, and took the extra rope, and then looked back at the gap. “I can’t believe you are talking me into this. I’ll need to take a run at it. Which means I can’t wear this,” he said, untying himself from her.
“That’s fine, I’ll tie off your end to my pack and once you’re over, I’d throw it to you, you can untie it and tie it back onto you.”
“That won’t give you much room to run at it and remember, you’d be hauling him.”
“The snow is smooth, there’s a slight incline here.”
Strangely, the idea of her and her father going at it alone didn’t sway him as much as the thought of her crossing and him following. Frank nodded. “Okay.”
“Yeah?”
He grumbled. “Let’s just do this before I change my mind.”
Frank removed his snowshoes and gave them to her. The snow up there wasn’t as thick as it had been, so it wasn’t like they would be wading knee-deep through it. It wasn’t any deeper than a few inches, a lot of the rock was exposed. Frank walked at least twenty feet away. Clutching the rope in one hand he eyed the gap like a long jumper, ready to go at it. He blew out his cheeks a few times, summoning the courage. She heard him curse momentarily before his boots pounded the snow and he launched himself off the edge. His body landed hard on the other side but he had made it in one piece and he knew it. “Yes!” he bellowed, fist-pumping the air. “Screw you!” he said, flipping the bird with the other hand to the mountain as if it was trying to stop them.
“Okay,” Kara said, getting his attention. “Get ready.”
Frank turned and tied himself to a boulder, gave it a few hard tugs, and even leaned back to make sure it was secure before he told her to toss over the pack with the end of the rope that had been attached to him. Fifteen feet of rope soared over, the pack landing hard. He secured the end to himself. That meant she only had roughly nine feet to run at that bridge. Looking at it now, it looked impossible. Before she attempted it, she tested the snow bridge one last time, using the walking stick and prodding it further out, deeper this time. She pushed it in. It held. Solid. No movement. Nothing crumbled.
