Avalanche!

by Frieda Wishinsky

  “Help?”

  “Building your fort.”

  “I don’t know, Owen …”

  “I’m sorry for calling you names at school, Alex. So what do you say? Can I help?”

  Alex looked at Ben. He knew they were thinking the same thing. It was going to be hard finishing the fort before dark without help. And maybe if they worked together, Owen wouldn’t be such a pain at school.

  “Okay. But it’s our fort. You have to build it our way. Deal?”

  “Deal.”

  Alex handed Owen a container and a shovel. “Fill this up, pat the snow down and you’ve made a brick. Stick it on top of the brick pile near the house over there. We need more bricks for the last wall.”

  Owen filled a container with snow, tapped it down and turned it over beside the house. “Hey, look at this, guys. Good one, right?” Owen pulled his phone out of his pocket and snapped a picture of his snow brick. Then he took a picture of the fort.

  Alex and Ben smiled. “Good one, Owen.”

  “Yeah. This fort is cool,” said Owen.

  Ben and Alex exchanged quick looks. Then they got back to work.

  For the next hour the three boys worked steadily. Alex and Owen worked side-by-side shaping and piling bricks near the side of the house. Ben worked at the fort near the back porch. He placed bricks on the last wall and patted each brick down with his hands and his shovel.

  The fort grew taller, wider and stronger by the minute.

  “Hey! Maybe we could even climb into the fort today,” said Alex. “We might finish by four if we keep working like this.”

  “That would be awesome,” said Ben.

  Alex walked over to a new mound of snow. He bent over to dig his shovel in and his glasses fell off. As he scrambled to find them, he heard a boom.

  “Did you hear that?” he asked Owen.

  “Yeah. I heard something. They’re probably dynamiting near the road. They do that to stop avalanches from crashing down near the highway.”

  “That boom isn’t down the road. It’s close. Really close. It’s like thunder. It’s like …”

  Alex squinted up at Mount Ava. “Owen! Ben! Look!” His heart began to pound.

  A huge slab of snow thundered down the steep mountain. It snapped branches. It rammed into trees. It buried everything in its path and it was heading right for them!

  “Avalanche!” shouted Alex. “Run!”

  But it was too late to run.

  Waves of heavy snow crashed over them, knocking them off their feet, tossing them like pieces of furniture, burying them under its heavy, cold weight.

  And then there was silence.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Alex struggled to open his eyes. They felt heavy and cold as if someone had covered them with an ice pack. It hurt to blink. When he did, snow fell off the top of his lids and onto his nose. His nose felt like an ice cube stuck to his face. It felt like bricks were pressing against his chest.

  Where am I? Where are Ben and Owen?

  Alex shivered. He suddenly remembered the avalanche — the mountain of snow hurtling at him. Tossing him like a football. Tumbling him over and over till the snow finally stopped moving. Everything had happened so quickly.

  Avalanche. Even the word made his heart beat faster.

  It really happened. Here. In my own backyard.

  But he was alive! He could breathe but it hurt. And he was cold. So cold.

  He gagged and coughed. His mouth was full of snow. He swallowed some and it made his throat hurt. Icy bits scratched his throat. He spit out as much of it as he could.

  How long have I been lying here?

  Alex blinked his eyes open and shut. He wasn’t sure which way was up. All he could see were smears of white and patches of blue. Is that the sky?

  Alex tried to shake his head free from the snow. The snow on top of him felt so heavy he didn’t know how he could move out from under it. Come on. Get up! he thought. You have to get up. You have to move.

  Alex took a deep breath and tried moving his arms but only his right arm budged. And there was something in it. Alex jiggled it. It was cold, long and hard. What is that? And then he remembered. He was holding his shovel when the avalanche hit. Somehow he still had it.

  Alex wiggled his arm back and forth, knocking a little more snow off each time.

  But it was hard to move the heavy snow. And he was suddenly so tired he just wanted to close his eyes and go to sleep.

  No! Don’t. You have to try.

  With all his might Alex forced himself to knock off more snow. He wiggled his arm again and again, knocking chunks of snow with each movement till finally he freed his right arm, his hand in his soaked right mitten and his shovel.

  His arm ached like he’d been lifting weights for hours, but it was free. And the metal shovel was a little dented but that’s all.

  Now the left arm. You can do it.

  Bit by bit Alex pushed the shovel back and forth until he scraped snow off his left arm. Finally it too was free of snow, but he’d lost his left mitten in the snow and his wrist throbbed. He tried moving it but a sharp jab of pain shot through him.

  Another wave of exhaustion hit him. It was like he’d been running all day. He wanted to close his eyes. Sleep.

  Stay awake. Move! Get up. Find Ben. Find Owen. What if they’re buried?

  Alex tried to call out to his friends, but all that came out of his mouth was a croak. He cleared his throat and tried again.

  “Ben! Owen!”

  His voice was weak, raspy. He called their names again and again. His throat hurt but he kept calling as he pushed his shovel back and forth against his chest. He pushed over and over until his chest was finally free.

  He tried to sit up. Pain shot through his arms and chest, and he fell back in the snow. His left wrist throbbed like a toothache, but he forced himself to sit up.

  Alex took a deep breath. Breathing didn’t hurt as much now. He shivered as the cold pierced through his wet jacket and snow pants.

  “Get off me, snow!” he said out loud as he kept pushing and shovelling the snow off his legs, until first his right leg, then his left leg were free. Luckily he still had his boots on. He touched his bare head. His hair was matted and wet all the way through to his scalp. His hat was gone.

  He leaned on the shovel and with all his might yanked himself up. But as soon as he was upright, his head spun. He sat back down on the snow and held his head in his hands until the dizziness passed.

  He called, “Ben! Owen!” No one answered.

  Where are they? Why aren’t they answering me?

  The snow was so deep around him that it covered everything like a giant white blanket across a huge lumpy bed. It was hard to see clearly without his glasses, but he could see enough to get around. He could see the lumps of hard snow across his yard and two of the trees in the back were broken in half. He could see the shed wrecked, smashed to bits. And his house … his house had caved in. The porch had been torn off.

  Thank goodness no one was home, thought Alex. Does anyone know what happened? Is anyone on the way to help us?

  Owen had been working near him piling bricks. Ben had been over at the fort near the porch. He had to get to them.

  Alex called out to Ben and Owen again. Again no answer.

  Alex swallowed a lump in his throat. He took a step and sank into a deep pocket of snow up to his knees. He lifted his legs and pulled himself out. He took another step and another, sinking into the hard, crunchy snow again and again. He stumbled on the chunks of football-sized snow dotting the yard. He kept calling for his friends. He tried to force his voice louder. But he was so hoarse, he couldn’t.

  “Ben! Owen! Are you there? Are you okay? Answer me.”

  And that’s when Alex heard a faint croaking sound. It was close.

  Owen! It had to be Owen.

  CHAPTER TEN

  “Owen!” Alex called, clutching the shovel and squinting.

  He heard that croaking sound
again. Closer this time. Where is it coming from, the left or the right?

  Alex couldn’t tell. He didn’t know which way to go. The snow was so thick and deep each step took all of his energy. But he had to walk. Every moment counted for Owen and Ben if they were buried. Alex looked up at the sky. The sun was going down. It was going to be dark soon.

  What time is it? Alex knew that his parents were due back at four thirty. And Ben’s dad was coming to get him at five o’clock.

  I wish I had a phone. Owen had a phone! But where is Owen?

  Another croaking sound. Louder. Clearer. Closer. From the right. Alex was sure of that now. Alex took a few steps to the right. He sank into a pocket of soft snow. He took another step. And another. The snow was crustier here and he could walk over it, but it was lumpy, too. It was like walking over snowballs. He stumbled. His knees buckled. He fell into a rut in the snow. He lay there for a moment, catching his breath. As he forced himself up, a wave of dizziness and nausea hit him. He stopped to let the wave pass.

  There’s that croaking sound again. Close. Very close. There in a mound of snow, Alex spotted a dark green hat. Owen’s hat!

  Alex took another step and sank into the snow up to his waist. He crawled forward on his hands and knees, sinking and falling. He stood up and used the shovel to propel himself forward.

  His arms hurt. His legs hurt. His face, his feet, his throbbing wrist. Every part of him was cold. More waves of dizziness washed over him. But he kept going until he finally reached Owen’s hat. Alex leaned down and brushed the snow off the hat.

  Owen’s face was under his hat! He was lying face up and he was breathing. He was alive. Only a thin layer of snow covered his mouth. Alex brushed the snow away from Owen’s mouth, nose and eyes. Owen’s eyes were closed. His breathing was heavy. Alex pushed the shovel into the snow beside him careful not to poke Owen with it.

  “Owen!”

  Owen opened his eyes. He blinked. He spit out snow from his mouth. He gagged and coughed. “Help me,” he muttered. Alex brushed more snow off Owen’s face. He grabbed the shovel and gently removed snow from Owen’s arms. Then he shovelled his middle. Then his legs. “Can you stand?”

  “I … I … don’t know. I feel sick. And my chest hurts.”

  “I’ll help you. Lift your arms. I’ll help pull you up. Do you have your phone? We need to call for help.”

  “I had it in my pocket. I can’t reach it.”

  “Let’s get you up first.”

  Owen stretched his arms out. Alex grabbed them.

  “Careful. I think I may have cracked something in my chest. Every time I breathe it hurts.”

  Alex pulled Owen and Owen, leaning on Alex, pulled himself up, too. Owen bit his lip as he stood up. Both his gloves were gone but he still had his boots on.

  “Thanks,” Owen muttered. “Ugh. I feel sick.” Owen leaned away from Alex and threw up into the snow. He wiped his mouth with snow.

  “You’re going to be okay. You can walk. That’s good. Do you have your phone?”

  Owen touched his pocket. “I did. Right here. I don’t feel it now.”

  “We have to look for your phone so we can call for help.”

  Owen reached deeper into his pocket. He checked his other pocket and the pockets in his jacket. “My phone’s gone. It has to be here somewhere.” He tapped the snow beside him. Nothing.

  “Where is it?” said Owen. Alex dug in the snow around them. The snow near them was hard. It was like digging through bricks. There was no sign of Owen’s phone.

  “It has to be here. It has to,” cried Owen. “Oh no! Look over there!” Owen pointed to his Uncle George and Aunt Wendy’s house. “Their house is destroyed. They’re in there — somewhere under the snow!”

  Alex touched Owen’s arm. “I know. But we’re too far away to reach them through this snow. Keep looking for your phone so we can call for help. I’ll look for Ben,” said Alex.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Alex trudged through the thick, heavy snow toward his broken porch and house. It was hard to see distance without his glasses but he could see right in front of him. He called, “Ben! Ben!” over and over until he was hoarse. Icy tears dribbled down his face.

  What if we can’t find him? Alex had to keep himself from thinking the worst. He had to keep looking for his friend.

  Alex stopped to rest and as soon as he did, he felt shaky and dizzy. For a minute he thought he might faint but the feeling passed. He tried to move slowly. He took deep breaths. His head still spun but not as much.

  Banks as high as his waist forced him to crawl across hard-packed snow as he carefully inspected the snow for any sign of Ben. His arms scraped against broken boards from his house, sharp edges of his porch screen, jagged table tops and parts of chairs, but there was nothing anywhere that belonged to Ben.

  Where is he? It’s getting late. Alex shivered.

  “I found my phone!” called Owen. “I’ve tried it but it’s all wet. It won’t work.”

  “Someone will come soon, even without us calling for help. They know we’re here. Someone has to know what happened here. There are other houses not too far away.”

  “But what if the whole neighbourhood has been hit?” said Owen. “The power is probably out. I can see downed wires from here.”

  “They’ll find a way to get here. I just wish they weren’t taking so long. We have to find Ben now. He doesn’t have much time. If he’s buried deep he might be …” Alex couldn’t say the word dead, but the word kept pushing its way into his head.

  “Hey! I found your glasses. Well, part of them anyway.” Owen held up Alex’s glasses. One of the black arms was missing. The lenses were cracked.

  “Thanks! All this squinting is giving me a headache. Help me look for Ben. You can see better than me now.”

  “I’m coming.” Owen coughed. “My chest is killing me. It’s like someone is stabbing me every time I move or breathe.”

  Owen trudged over to Alex and handed him his glasses. “Can you see through them?”

  “If I hold them, I can. Not perfectly but it helps. Can you see anything around here that belongs to Ben?”

  Owen picked up a large board from the remains of the porch and looked under. There was no sign of Ben underneath.

  Alex lifted up a broken wooden tabletop that used to stand on his porch. Ben wasn’t under there.

  Where is he? He has to be here.

  And then Alex saw a red dot in the snow. It wasn’t far from the caved-in remains of their fort and a long board from the shed, which covered the entrance to what was left of the fort.

  Is that blood?

  Alex shuddered. His heart raced as he tramped over to the red dot. He put on his glasses to inspect it. It didn’t look like blood but he wasn’t sure. He slipped his glasses into his jacket’s top pocket and shovelled the snow near the dot. He crouched down and dug some more. There was more red and some black.

  “It’s Ben’s glove! Ben has to be close,” he called to Owen. Alex dug more around the glove. Nothing. Nothing. And then he hit something hard and rubbery. It was the bottom of a boot!

  Alex dug frantically near the boot. Owen stumbled over.

  “Help me. I think Ben is here.”

  Owen bent down beside Alex. Together they dug with their hands and with the shovel. “It’s Ben’s leg! Come on. We have to uncover his face. Hurry!” yelled Alex.

  “What if …?” whispered Owen.

  “We can’t think about that. We have to get him out,” said Alex.

  The boys kept digging. They dug with their hands until they uncovered Ben’s face. His shovel was up against it, his hand holding the shovel tightly. There was a deep gash across his forehead. He was breathing, but each breath came out hard, as if it hurt.

  Alex leaned over his friend. “Ben, it’s us. You’re okay. We found you.” Alex carefully unclasped Ben’s fingers from the shovel and gently pulled the shovel away from his face so he could breathe better.

  Ben’s fa
ce was bruised. His nose and lips were cut. His eyes were closed, but for an instant he opened them and blinked — once, twice. Then he closed his eyes again and moaned.

  The boys kept digging until they removed most of the snow off Ben’s arms, legs and chest.

  “Let’s not move him,” said Alex. “He might have broken something and moving him might make it worse. Someone will come. Your mom, Ben’s dad. My parents. Someone. They are all due back soon.”

  “I hope so. Ben’s shivering,” said Owen. He sat down on the snow beside Ben. “He’s having trouble breathing.”

  “We have to keep him warm,” said Alex. He moved closer to his friend. “My jacket is too wet and so is yours. I wish we had a blanket.”

  “Wait! I have something.” Owen slipped off his wet jacket. Underneath he was wearing a long, thick sweater. “Aunt Wendy knitted this for me for Christmas.” Owen paused and looked toward the Henshaws’ house. He coughed. Tears filled his eyes. He wiped them away quickly with the back of his hand. “Mom made me wear this today because we were visiting. It’s ugly but it’s dry.”

  Owen placed the sweater over Ben and tucked it around him. Then they settled in close to keep him warm. Ben blinked. He moaned. He coughed. Then he closed his eyes as if the pain was too much. Alex and Owen could hear his short, sharp breaths.

  “You know, I used to live here,” said Owen. “Before my parents split up.”

  “Alex’s eyes widened. “You lived here? Did you sleep in the attic beadroom?”

  “Yeah. Living in town’s okay, but I kind of miss my old life.”

  The boys were quiet for a few minutes.

  “The sun’s going down. It’ll be dark soon.” Alex shivered. “And it’s getting colder. My feet are like ice.”

  Owen nodded. “My chest is so sore it hurts to yawn.”

  “Maybe one of us should walk to the road — or what’s left of the road.”

  “I can’t move anymore. I’m too tired and my chest hurts too much. Plus we should stay with Ben.”

  “You’re right,” said Alex. “We can’t leave Ben.”

  Alex looked over at Owen. He was leaning against Ben. His eyes were closed. He was sound asleep.