by Dana Mentink
He jerked toward the movement, thinking he had imagined it until the shape zinged again through the white-robed trees finally coming to a stop on a flat rock that protruded above the snow. The dog barked, a loud, agitated sound that cut through the quiet of the snow-covered hollow.
Luca stared at the animal. Even though he could not figure out what a dog would be doing alone out here on the slopes, he was far more surprised by one particular detail. The animal was big, a scruffy black-and-tan creature that spoke of German shepherd parentage with something fluffier mixed in, but the strangest thing about him was his left ear, the top of which had been cut off somehow long ago, leaving a flattened tip.
Luca had known a dog with just such an ear, but he could not believe it. Ava’s dreamer of an uncle owned a critter that answered to the same description, but it could not be one and the same. Uncle Paul, last Luca had heard, was lying low to escape a group of unsavory folks from whom he’d borrowed money.
“Mack Dog?” Luca yelled out, amazed that he remembered the name.
The dog jerked as if he’d gotten a shock, stood up and wagged a tentative tail in Luca’s direction.
A noise from over the hill made them both tense. Luca was not sure but it might have been a shout or maybe just the echo of some agitated bird.
Mack Dog leaped from the rock, floundering in the snow before he began an awkward journey in the direction of the noise, bulldozing his way through the frozen piles, standing every few feet on his rear legs to get his visual bearings.
Luca watched the dog in amazement.
How could it be Mack Dog?
He listened again, heard a snowmobile engine. Just someone enjoying the slopes like himself, who had probably lost track of his dog. He should ski on, go to meet his sister, but something turned him in a different direction, toward a smooth section that would take him to the source of the noise.
Mack Dog, or whoever’s dog it might be, wouldn’t survive long left alone on the mountain. Luca poled out to a promising spot and skied as quickly as he could manage downslope, where he edged into a turn that would take him toward the hill. He could make out Mack Dog barreling through the trees in the same direction.
The slope was not as smooth as he made the turn, the snow uneven and bumpy. He had to use his poles vigorously to keep the momentum, and his breath came in white puffs. Finally he made it to a spot where he could see the terrain. Through a curtain of whirling flakes, he spied a road winding below him and beyond that, at the bottom of a steep drop-off, was the lake that he would forever think of as Ava’s.
Mack Dog erupted from the trees and skidded crazily to the road below before trotting around the corner. Luca shuffled carefully on his skis a few feet to the left which gave him a better view of the road below the hill on which he stood. He saw now where the dog was headed, to a battered pickup truck, the front driver’s-side door open. Papers and an overturned cardboard box lay on the snow, as if thrown there along with a messy coil of rope and a toolbox with assorted wrenches scattered about.
He stood, mouth open as the man he knew as Uncle Paul burst out of the trees, cheeks flushed with exertion.
A second figure ran into view. Drawing close, she reached up a hand and stripped off her knit cap in irritation. The blond hair shone brilliant against the red of her jacket.
He did not hear what she said to her uncle nor did he need to. Ava Stanton, no longer an awkward teenager, stood just below him, like some strange memory come to life before his eyes. There was such intensity on her face, such rigidity in her body that his breath caught, nerves tingling.
As if she heard his thoughts, Ava tipped her head up.
Her blue eyes met his, widening, probably lost in the same incredulity he felt.
So riveted was he by those blazing eyes that he did not register the engine until a blue snowmobile appeared, the driver’s face obscured by a helmet with a mirrored visor.
While Luca looked down at the bizarre scene, Paul’s mouth rounded in shock. The machine roared closer.
Something odd and out of place appeared in the driver’s hand, something black and shiny.
A gun.
Luca’s pulse hammered.
No, not a gun, something different.
Luca’s brain produced the fact even as his body pushed forward, hurtling down the icy hill as the snowmobile closed the gap to Ava and her uncle.
TWO
Ava tore her gaze away from Luca’s face in time to see the snowmobile zooming toward them through a gap in the trees. She had no time to puzzle over Luca’s sudden appearance. Feet frozen in shock, she felt the snow tremble under her boots, as the engine noise pierced the air with the intensity of a buzz saw. Ava had seen people do crazy things on the slopes before, something about the combination of speed and snow seemed to rob them of their senses, but this was different.
Her suspicions were confirmed when she saw something appear in the driver’s left hand while his right still gripped the accelerator. It was squat, compact, unfamiliar, but her instincts screamed in fear. The machine closed in, and she shouted to her uncle.
“Uncle Paul!” Her words were lost in the scream of the engine.
Paul raised an arm to his head as if to ward off a blow, Mack Dog barking wildly at the approaching threat, unsure whether to make for his master or the oncoming mechanical monster.
Ava started forward with no better plan than to somehow get to her uncle. Her feet slipped and slid on patches of ice as she stumbled toward him. The snowmobiler was not more than fifteen feet away and closing rapidly, the black instrument aimed at her uncle. She saw that the hand gripping the weapon was ungloved, the finger now flipped up a trigger guard and pressed an illuminated button. Tiny projectiles exploded from the barrel. She watched in horror as they pierced Uncle Paul’s jacket like a swarm of enraged hornets.
A wave of unseen energy swept through him. His body tensed and twitched as he went down, unconscious on the snow.
“No,” Ava screamed, scrambling to get to him.
The snowmobile stopped just long enough for the driver to haul Paul’s unconscious body up across his knees, and then the machine lurched forward again, heading straight for Ava.
Her blood turned to ice.
“You’re not taking him,” she yelled. “I won’t let you.”
She had no idea how to stop the assailant. The only notion that thundered through her mind was to somehow slow the person who was going to take away her uncle.
Her body went rigid, bracing for impact as the snowmobile’s skis flew across the ground.
The mirrored visor reflected her terrified face back at her as the driver made the final approach.
She threw up her arms and screamed.
The air was knocked out of her as she was tossed aside, not by the impact of the snowmobile, but by Luca’s body as he crashed into her and sent her sailing into a pile of loose snow. They fell in a tangle of skis and ice particles.
She felt his arms around her, trying to pull her away from the road, but she fought him off in spite of his strength.
“Let go.”
His green eyes flashed behind the swirl of snow. “Stay down.”
“Get off, Luca.” She struggled to her feet and pulled herself free from him and the pile of snow, ignoring his clasping hands. Then she was running, following the ruts of the snowmobile, pushing as fast as she could against the wind.
“Uncle Paul,” she screamed. Mack Dog raced along behind her, barking.
She heard Luca snapping off his skis, getting to his feet, calling out to her.
She ran up the hill and down toward the lake.
The snowmobile was stopped there, idling, the unconscious Paul still lying brokenly across the driver’s lap. She could see the driver considering how to get by her car which was partially bloc
king the road. Going around would put the machine on unstable ice, possibly causing the skis to founder.
The other side backed to a steep incline covered with loose powder which would undoubtedly ensnare the machine in moments. Ava continued to run as fast as her complaining muscles would allow. His indecision gave her a slim chance. If she could get her uncle off the machine and into the car...
She closed the gap, ten yards, now five.
Reaching forward, lungs burning with the effort, her fingers strained to grasp the metal passenger grip.
Paul stirred, and she thought she could hear him groan.
Almost there. Almost.
As her fingers touched the cold metal of the passenger grip, the driver jerked into action, revving the motor. The snowmobile leaped forward into the pitched snow. For a moment, she thought he would not make it as the skis began to sink into the surface. With a surge of her last bit of energy, she grabbed the bar, clinging there as she was dragged along behind. Her weight unbalanced the machine and it slowed.
She’d done it. He would have to stop.
Then the snowmobile jerked and skidded, throwing her loose and sending her tumbling down the slope toward the lake.
Arms spread, hands clawing, she tried to stop her momentum. Sky blurred with snow as she tumbled toward the glittering oval bowl.
In dizzying glimpses she saw the driver wrestle the machine back up to the road and disappear into the distance as the lake rushed up to meet her.
* * *
Luca finally struggled clear of the snow. He’d seen enough to know that Paul had just been abducted although he did not give himself time to mull over the insane scenario. He texted an SOS with his GPS coordinates quickly to his sister.
She would send help. He took off in the direction the snowmobile had gone, a frantic Ava charging after it.
Doing his best to avoid the slick patches of icy snow, he ran as quickly as he dared until he slid close enough to witness Ava clinging to the back of the snowmobile. He saw her tensed fingers lose their grip on the bar as the machine bucked on the uneven snow. The unconscious body of her uncle Paul would have slipped to the ground as well if it weren’t wedged under the handlebars.
The driver gave only a cursory look behind him as he fled onward, kicking up a cloud of white in his wake, Mack Dog in loud pursuit. Luca had no thought of giving chase as he scrambled to the edge of the slope where he saw Ava rolling helplessly, like a tumbling rag doll. He crashed down the hill after her, trying to calculate in his mind how it would end.
Would she stop before she reached the edge of the lake?
He remembered his early days apprenticing on a Life Flight helicopter. The horrifying call on that crisp February morning; a child wandered out on the ice, fallen through. A father heedless of his own safety following his boy into the same deadly snare. That day it had switched from a rescue to a recovery and the anguish of it clung to him even after so many years. Luca blinked away the thought.
Ava would stop her desperate roll before she got to the water; she had to. He floundered through a deep pocket of snow, the cold seeping into his clothing and making his eyes tear. He flailed out of the depression in time to see Ava’s jacket snag on a root thrust through the winter ice.
Her head bounced against the ground as she came to a stop, jacket precariously held in place by the small piece of wood.
Luca muttered a prayer of heartfelt thanks as his mind ran through options. Poised as she was only six feet above the lake, he would be able to reach her and drag her back up hill. The farther away from the water, the better.
Heart still pounding with exertion and adrenaline, he saw her eyes fixed on his.
“My uncle,” she called to him. “I’m okay. Go help him. Please.”
His heart skipped a beat at the raw emotion in her face. “Help is coming,” he said, easing toward her down the slope. He placed each boot with care, trying not to dislodge the crusts of snow that might knock her loose from her perch.
“Luca, please go after Uncle Paul.” She was nearly shouting now, tears trickling from her eyes and etching her face in frozen trails. “I’ll climb back up in a minute. As soon as I get my breath. Please.”
She was begging. He could not stand it. He spoke soothingly, a tone borne of many harrowing experiences in the fire service. “We’ll get you away from the water. Then we’ll find your uncle.”
Her answer was lost in a churning of snow as Mack Dog appeared at the edge of the road where the snowmobile had made its risky maneuver around the car. When he caught sight of them down below, his tail began to whisk in excited circles and he charged down to meet them.
“Stay, dog, for once in your life,” Luca thundered.
The dog paid no heed, pulling even with him. Luca reached out a hand to grab the jingling collar. Mack Dog moved toward Luca until he caught sight of Ava down below. He abruptly turned and plowed toward her, throwing frozen bits into the air.
“No, Mack Dog. Come here,” Luca tried again.
Mack Dog trotted downslope and shoved his face into Ava’s, nose first. She jerked back in surprise and the tiny movement was enough. The twig on which her jacket was snagged gave way and Ava slid like a human toboggan toward the lake.
“Luca,” she screamed, her fear magnified by the thin air as she slipped away from him.
All thoughts of caution were gone now as he foundered down the slope, stumbling and falling as he went. At one point he was almost close enough to grab her, his fingertips grazing the slippery fabric of her jacket.
It wasn’t enough. She skidded right through the scant black shrubs that protruded through the frozen layer at the water’s edge and sailed out onto the iced surface of the lake, finally coming to a stop about ten feet out. Mack Dog started to follow her, but Luca grabbed his collar and yanked him to a sitting position.
“Stay.”
Something in Luca’s ferocious tone convinced the dog, and he sat obediently on the snow.
“Ava?” Luca called. For an agonizing moment, she lay still on the ice.
“Ava,” he called again. “Look at me.”
Slowly she raised her head, and his heart resumed beating. The ice held and she was conscious.
“Listen,” he said. “You have to stay completely still.”
She nodded and he put a tentative foot out on the ice. There was an ominous crack, loud as a gunshot. He stepped quickly back and checked his watch. He estimated the time he’d texted Stephanie to be about ten minutes ago. Help would be arriving soon, but he could not count on it. He looked around for a stick long enough to reach out to her and found nothing.
His mind flashed back to the contents of Uncle Paul’s truck and the long tangled rope thrown out upon the snow.
“I’m too heavy to walk out to you. I’m going to go get a rope,” he yelled to her. “Don’t move until I get back.”
She didn’t answer, instead laying her head down on her arm.
The motion caused his heart to pulse with a mixture of emotions he could not decipher.
He wondered as he struggled up the hill, Mack Dog behind him, if she was thinking of her mother then. Luca suppressed a surge of anger at the woman who had cut Ava’s heart to ribbons. How could anyone kill themselves and leave a vulnerable teen behind?
His muscles protested as he cleared the slope and ran up the iced road. He wanted to take out his phone and reassure himself that Stephanie was on the way but he could not do it, so strong was the rising tension inside him. Ava was petite. He could recall with ridiculous clarity how her slender wrist fit easily in the circle of his fingers when they would conduct arm wrestling contests. Delicate, but so was the ice that was the last barricade between her and a slow death by drowning.
He was sprinting now, the snow increasing from trickles to torrents, obscuring his vision
momentarily as he paused to wipe his eyes. The truck swam into view, drifts of snow collected across the bed and partially concealing the contents strewn on the ground. He found the trail of rope, its end poking up just enough for him to grab hold. As he pulled it up, he noticed tiny metallic circles, like bits of confetti, slowly being swallowed up by the falling snow. He snatched one up and stowed it in his pocket before taking a quick look in the truck.
As he’d suspected. No keys, but he did find a leash which he clipped on the excited Mack Dog.
They took off running back to the lake, both Luca and the dog alternately stumbling on the slick ground. He tied Mack Dog to the fender of Ava’s car, eliciting a bark of outrage.
“Sorry, can’t have you adding any weight to the ice.” He raced to the edge of the slope, immensely relieved to see Ava still lying there.
“I’m coming down,” he called.
She didn’t move.
Quickly he tied the rope around the sturdy trunk of a pine that stood sentry over the valley below. He unrolled it as he plunged back down the slope, praying it would be long enough to reach her. He made it to the water’s edge with a good fifteen feet to spare.
Enough.
Barely.
“I’m going to throw you the rope. Grab an end and I’ll haul you in.”
No answer.
“Ava,” he shouted, startling a bird in the nearby shrubs. “You’ve got to get the rope.”
With no response from her, the feeling of dread in his gut increased. He knew that head injuries were silent killers. Her progress down the hill had been bumpy. Pulling his phone out with fingers gone numb from the biting cold, he saw the message.
SOS rec’d. 911 en route.
Stephanie didn’t waste time asking superfluous questions. She was on her way with the ski patrol, he was sure.
But how long?
The snow was falling fast now. Ava’s jacket was already covered in powder, flakes plastering her hair. How long before her body became hypothermic? “Ava, wake up,” he shouted again, his strident tone ringing across the ice.
