It seemed as though everything happened at once; the wheel dog shot into the haunches of the team dog in front of him, and then the neck line, tug line, and gang line tangled as the sled surged ahead. Chaz’s hand flew up as he lost his balance; a shot split the sky before the gun sailed end over end like the blades of a pinwheel, and then disappeared into a thicket of shrubs. Cursing, Chaz grabbed the handle bow to steady himself at the precise moment Nicky catapulted out of the basket and onto the ground, racing toward Jack and Ashley.
“Whoa!” Chaz stomped on the claw break and screamed again, “Whoa!”
“Hurry!” Jack screamed. He grabbed Ashley’s hand and almost pulled her off her feet.
A few fist-size balls of snow skittered down the sheer mountain face like beads from a broken string, rolling across the creek bed before disappearing into the other bank. As the dogs barked wildly in a cacophony of sound, Jack realized Chaz barely had control of them. If he left the team to search for the gun, the dogs would streak away. He was caught in his own web. When Jack glanced back, Chaz was looking at him with such cold hate that Jack felt his blood turn to ice. He knew without a doubt that if Chaz had had the gun, he would have shot Jack right then and there.
Nicky sprinted toward them so fast his feet churned up divots of snow, and then he stopped in his tracks, pivoting to face Chaz. He was panting hard. “Get out of here!” he screamed. Slicing the air with his arm, he cried, “It’s over. You can’t take all three of us. Leave us alone!”
“You think you’ve won?” Chaz answered vehemently, still trying to steady himself on the sled. The sound from the dogs bounced up the face of the mountain, causing more snow to skitter down. Jack looked above him, at the smooth snow that glimmered like a sheet of glass.
A memory from scouting jarred him. Sound. Snow. Gunshot. Snow.
“I’ve got the dogs!” Chaz raged. “In a few hours it will be 20 below and your blood will freeze solid. You may have dodged a bullet, but Denali will do the rest.”
As if to affirm his words, a gust of wind danced around them, blowing yet another curtain of crystals through the wild emptiness.
“Get out of here!” Nicky screamed.
“You’ll never make it.”
“I’ll make it!” Nicky cried defiantly. “You tell them Nicky Milano won. You’ll never find us again—not me, not my dad!”
Chaz let go of a stream of curse words, then released the claw break. Leaning forward, he shouted the command “Hike! Let’s go!” The dogs jerked forward, slowed because of their tangled lines. Once again a funnel of snow swirled around them like the spirit of a whirlwind, licking at the back of Chaz’s sled as he took off toward the east.
Just then Jack heard a crack like a tree splitting from frost, only a hundred times louder. It was coming from behind him, not in the direction of the retreating dog sled. His eyes flew to the mountain’s peak.
More balls of snow skittered down like balls of yarn. Snow. Sound. Dogs barking. The crack of the gun. Each thought raced through his mind, faster than the tick of a watch. He knew. Instantly he grabbed Ashley’s arm and pulled her toward the direction they’d come, but before he’d taken two steps, he knew he was too late. There was another crack and a rumble, as if thunder had broken through the clouds. But this was a deeper sound, louder and more frightening than any storm.
The first things he saw were the branches. Tips of spruce swayed in the arctic wind, but a flick of motion above the tree line drew his gaze past the smattering of trees, up to where the sheer mountain face touched the sky. An enormous plate of snow broke free, as if a giant knife had sliced off a piece of cake.
There was no time to move, no place to go even if he could. A tidal wave of snow, ten feet deep and as wide as the mountain, had come loose, roaring down the mountainside like a tsunami of crushed ice. The trees that stood in its path were broken like so many toothpicks.
In that brief second, Jack called out the only word that came to mind.
“Swim!” That was the last thing he said before the wall of snow hit him full force.
White. His world was suddenly pure white as his body got dragged down into a colorless ocean of snow. He tumbled in a cartwheel, righted himself, then felt himself clamped in a vise more powerful than he could comprehend. A tree snapped in half as it hit a rock, like a bone fractured clean through. He, and it, were helpless against the force of the avalanche. Nothing but white. Nothing but cold.
Snow filled his mouth, and for a terrifying moment he couldn’t breath. Swim! The command came from somewhere deep inside. He had to keep his head up, or he would be buried forever in this grave. With his arms pumping, he struggled to ride the wave, always pushing toward the air, praying the rush of snow would stop and then, in what seemed forever but was only a few seconds, it was over. As he slowed to a stop Jack placed his hands over his face to create an air space. Still tumbling end over end, he finally quit moving.
Panic gripped him, and he fought to push it down. He couldn’t let himself give in to the fear, couldn’t use up the last second of oxygen in frantic digging that could send him deeper into the snow, couldn’t allow himself to feel his own terror. He tried to move his hands—one was encased in snow over his head, the other, his right, still covered his face. He pushed it away from his eyes, moving it a few inches. This was crazy. There was no way to know which direction was up.
“Help,” he whispered. The sound was muffled in his own ears. Opening his lids, he saw nothing but gray-white, felt nothing but deep cold. Which way was up? What had happened to Ashley? Think! He commanded himself. Remember.
At a winter camp out for Eagle Scouts, he’d learned about how to survive an avalanche. Spit! That was it. In order to know which way was up, a person caught in an avalanche needed to spit and follow gravity. Pushing as much snow from his face as he could, Jack sucked against his tongue. When he let the saliva go, it dropped from his lips straight into the snow. OK, he told himself. Gravity says the earth is straight down. He pictured it in his mind, and realized that he was stretched out horizontally, as if he were flying over the earth like Superman. The air was above him. If he’d gone the way his instincts had told him, he would have tunneled himself straight ahead and smothered.
With all his strength, Jack pushed his right hand as far above him as he could reach. Clawing with his left, he tried to kick his feet. Up. He had to get up. Once again, he drove his hand up as far as he could, wrenching his body toward the sky. The wall of snow could have buried him ten feet under. If it had, he would die here. No! Keep pushing! He’d already propelled past his air pocket and snow was filling his mouth, blinding his eyes. He made another air pocket, stopped, caught his breath. Fear seized him. He could die here. No, he told himself. The biggest part of survival is mental. Don’t panic—stay focused. Push, kick, move. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, he felt his fingers break free, and then he felt a hard yank that practically pulled his arm out of its socket. He sucked in a huge gulp of frozen air.
“Jack!” he heard his sister scream. “Jack! Hold on!”
Snow was clawed away from his head, and then Nicky clamped his hands under Jack’s armpits and jerked him free from his tomb. His legs buckled beneath him. Jack rolled onto his back and took three long swallows of air, sweet and knife-sharp in his lungs. He felt Ashley’s fingers on his face brushing the snow from his eyes.
In the background he heard the dogs barking wildly.
“Ashley—”
“I’m right here. Nicky pulled you free. We’re all OK.”
“The dogs—”
“We think Chaz got caught in the avalanche,” Nicky said. “Serves him right.”
“No—I mean the dogs and the loud barking and the gunshot. I should’ve remembered sooner. Sound triggers an avalanche. I should have made us move. Should have made us. Are you sure you guys are OK?” Jack croaked.
“We’re banged up, but man, we made it,” Nicky answered, brushing snow from his hair.
“
What about you, Jack?” Ashley asked. Her voice quavered.
“I feel like I’ve been in a rock tumbler.” Gingerly, he moved to a sitting position, testing his limbs. Snow had been packed into every crevice, down his neck and into his boots. He was already freezing. “Whoa, my head is scrambled,” he moaned. Taking off his glove, he began pulling chunks of snow from his collar.
“I did what you said, Jack. I tried to swim—but—” Ashley’s face suddenly contorted, and she began to cry great, heaving sobs. “I—didn’t—know where you were and—”
“Don’t cry, Ashley,” Jack told her. “I’m serious. You’ll need the energy.”
Every inch of Ashley was covered with white, as though she’d been rolled in dough. Her knit cap was gone, as well as one glove, but she was alive and standing with Nicky’s arm around her shoulders like a vise. That arm again! Nicky’s hair stood from his head in snowy clumps, and his cheek had been scraped raw. Blood seeped out of the scrape and trickled down onto his parka in a thin, red ribbon. “Shhh,” he told Ashley in a hushed voice. “We’re alive. That’s all that matters.”
The dogs’ barking became more urgent. Jack looked out at the field of white, its former glassy surface now mottled with chunks of snow. Broken branches, rocks, and tree trunks had been flung around like confetti on a sheet. They could have been killed. Easy.
Rolling to his knees, he stood and took a few wobbling steps in the dogs’ direction. “We should help the dogs.”
“Yeah. At least some of them are alive,” Nicky agreed. “They’re really howling—I bet they’re still tied to the sled.”
“What about Chaz?” Jack asked.
“I thought of that. We’ll look to see if he’s digging up his dogs. If he is, we’ll turn and go the other way. If not, we’ll help the dogs. They don’t deserve this.”
Jack shook his head to clear it. “No, that’s not what I meant. If Chaz got buried in the avalanche, he’s suffocating right now.”
Nicky stiffened. “So? I say if he dies, it’s justice.”
“I know, but…but can we really do that?”
“Watch me,” he spat. “I can do it easy.”
Ashley bit the edge of her lip. “Was Chaz a bad spy?”
“Yeah. Remember, I told you they were after me. You believed me, but Jack didn’t. Right, Jack?” He cocked his head. “You thought I was full of it. What do you think now?”
Jack dropped his gaze. Of course it was true. He’d thought terrible things of Nicky, who had been telling the truth all along. It was hard to remember all those bad feelings, especially when Nicky was the one who’d pulled him from the snow. “I’m sorry I didn’t trust you, Nicky,” he told him.
With a curt nod, Nicky said, “Apology accepted,” and held out his hand for Jack to shake. That effectively removed the arm from Ashley’s shoulders, so with a smile, Jack shook hands.
The dogs’ howls kept splitting the sky like sirens. “We gotta start digging,” Jack said, but when he tried to take a step his legs nearly buckled beneath him. He grabbed Ashley’s arm to steady himself.
“Yeah, digging to save the dogs,” Nicky said.
“But how can we save the dogs and not the man?”
“That Chaz is a waste of skin!” Nicky fumed. Pointing toward trees that were still standing, he cried, “What if he’s out there, watching, waiting for us?”
“And what if he’s dying while we’re arguing?” Jack shuddered as he remembered his own tomb of snow. “Can you live with that?”
“I can!” Nicky blazed. “Don’t be stupid, Jack.” Turning toward Ashley, he asked, “You think I’m right, don’t you? Don’t you?”
“Ashley, Chaz is still a human being,” Jack said weakly. “We can tie him up with the dog harness—whatever you think is right. I just can’t let a person suffocate in the snow.” But it was no use. From the look in Ashley’s eyes he could tell she would do whatever Nicky suggested. The alliance had shifted. Jack would have to go it alone.
Turning on his heel, he headed toward the dogs’ crescendo of yaps and cries. He knew that in some ways what he was about to do didn’t make sense, and there was no doubt Nicky had every right to be vengeful. But at the end of the day, Jack would have to live with himself, so he had to try to save a life, even if it was an evil life. He paused as he tried to calculate the quickest path across the snowfield. Some of the snow was littered with debris, while other parts looked like white carpet.
Suddenly he felt his sister’s hand on his elbow and saw that she was walking in tandem with him once again, her boots thumping lightly in the snow. “You can stay if you want, Nicky,” she called over her shoulder. “I’m going with Jack.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
“Hold up, I’m coming!” Nicky cried. “I don’t like it, but I’m coming.”
“Good,” Ashley said. Ashley’s smile irritated Jack. Hadn’t his sister just sided with him? He’d been hoping Nicky would stay away but now, once again, they were three. Well, Jack had bigger problems to worry about than Nicky Milano. The howling of dogs rang through the air; in the distance Jack saw a dark shape that looked like an arm reaching up from a sinking ship. For a split second he thought it belonged to Chaz until he realized it was one of the dogs. Jack began to breathe again.
Sasha howled as if he’d been shot. “Don’t worry, we’re almost there!” Ashley cried.
“I still say we free the dogs and leave Chaz buried. Guys like him have nine lives,” Nicky said grimly. “Like in a horror movie, he’ll come back. He’s just too mean.”
The path of the avalanche, as wide as the length of a football field, ran from the very top of the mountain all the way to the creek bed and beyond. Although smooth slabs of snow had sheared off the mountain wall, the avalanche path was marbled with chunks that ranged in size from pebbles to grapefruit to bowling balls. Here and there Jack saw the scattered remains of trees, their broken limbs resting at crazy angles. An enormous force had been contained in that roaring mass of snow. It was as if a bomb had gone off—nature’s bomb that had instantly swept everything in its path.
And yet, now that its fury was gone, the mountain seemed to have settled back to sleep. A mist churned by the avalanche hung in the air, muting colors of trees and sky as if they were covered with tissue paper. Every few seconds a stream of snow would break free from spruce needles, cascading in tiny chutes until the branches once again sprang toward the hidden sun. It would have been beautiful if it hadn’t been so deadly. They pushed on, struggling through snow that seemed to grow thicker with each step.
“What time is it?” Jack asked.
Nicky jerked up his coat sleeve to check his watch. “Two thirty-six. I figure we were hit about 18 minutes ago. Which means—”
“We’d better go faster,” Ashley finished up. She didn’t add what he knew they were all thinking, that if Chaz was under the snow, his time was quickly running out. “So come on!” she cried.
From the sound of the dogs, Jack could tell Chaz had made it to the farthest side of the path of the avalanche. If not for the huskies’ cacophony, they would never have known how to find the sled. The yelps served as a beacon, drawing them to the site like a lighthouse drew ships.
“Do you think the dogs’ noise’ll cause another slide?” Ashley asked nervously.
“No. We’re right in the path of the one that already fell. We’ll be OK.” Jack looked into the remaining trees, and for a moment his heart jumped into his throat. There, perched in the thick foliage of a spruce tree, sat a boreal owl. From the mottled shadows, its large yellow eyes seemed to watch his every step. He must be getting jumpy, maybe because Nicky had mentioned horror movies and the owl looked eerie. Get a grip, he told himself. Odds were that Chaz lay buried with the sled. And yet, Jack and Ashley and Nicky had defied the same odds by escaping the snow’s grasp. Maybe Chaz had, too.
The barking became deafening. The two lead dogs, Kenai and Sasha, had clawed a crater in the snow around them—a hole three feet deep and four fee
t wide. Still attached to the gang line, they frantically strained against their harnesses, but they were caught like flies in the web of neck line and tug line. A few harnesses lay empty on the ground, which meant, to Jack’s relief, that some of the dogs must have escaped. When the dogs spotted them coming they became even more frenzied.
“You’re safe, we’re here now,” Ashley cooed to them. She immediately began trying to work them free from the tangles, soothing them with a steady stream of “hush now” and “you’ll be free soon.” First she went to help Sasha, but another team dog was so panicked that it knocked Ashley flat. Rocking back up, she called out, “Whoa,” so loudly that they quieted for a moment before they surged around her again. Clearly, the dogs were terrified.
Nicky dropped to his stomach to peer into the hole the dogs had made, scooping out snow with his gloved hands. “Yo, don’t look in here,” he called out to Ashley. “Some of the dogs didn’t make it. There’s at least two of them, maybe three bodies.”
“Are you sure they’re dead?” Jack asked.
“Yeah,” Nicky replied. “I’m lookin’ at ’em. I know what dead looks like.”
“Any sign of Chaz?”
“Nope.”
“Can you unhook the dead dogs from the line?”
“I think so. Give me a minute.”
Grunting as he worked, Nicky released some lines that Jack couldn’t see. Then, fingering a carabiner clip that attached the main line to the front of the sled, he said, “Move back, guys. I’m going to free the line.”
“No—wait—” Jack cried, grabbing the blue lead, but Nicky had already squeezed the clip. Instantly, the line jerked through Jack’s fingers, ripping a hole in the palm of his right glove. Ashley made a lunge for it, but the line wrenched through her hands. There was no way she could hold on. The other survivors broke free from the snow, barking furiously. They seemed to be trying to run in different directions until Kenai forged ahead, pulling the rest of them back into a ragged formation—like the V shape geese make when they fly through the sky. With Kenai in the forefront the dogs turned to race along the creek bed and disappeared behind a bend.
Buried Alive! Page 6
