by Fritz Galt
May and Jade had reached Breckenridge quickly enough, but finding Liang was another matter. First they had checked into a condo complex right in the heart of Breckenridge. Then they spent the rest of the afternoon driving from one parking lot to another in search of a white car called a Ford Escort with Colorado license plates.
May saw plenty of nicer and bigger models of cars, and they came from a variety of states ranging from Kansas and Missouri to New Mexico and Texas.
“Lots of Texas,” May remarked. “The cowboys must enjoy skiing.”
Then Jade had the bright idea of searching the ski slopes for Liang and May’s father.
“My father skiing? You must think I’m headless poultry.”
Jade swished her Dorothy Hamill hair around and elbowed May. “You’re just afraid of the snow.”
“I am not,” May said. “I suppose Liang might be here to ski.” She made her mind up on the spot that she would learn how to ski. After all, how hard could it be?
Several minutes and many dollars later, she was being latched into tight-fitting boots and a short pair of skis by a team of tanned young professionals who worked at the ski hut.
Both women began a one-hour lesson with an Austrian ski instructor whom May couldn’t understand at all. Nevertheless, she emulated his movements and soon she was in control of her boards. After half an hour, they tackled the bunny slope. It didn’t take long to learn how to stop. She simply sat down between her skis.
But that wasn’t the technique the instructor was teaching, so he spent several minutes wrapped around her and helping her position her ski edges into a snowplow.
“I feel like my feet are tied to bricks.”
“Vot I vould give to be zose bricks,” the instructor said.
“I am sorry. They are rented.”
On her second run down the bunny slope, May ended up in a shower of snow, but remained upright. The instructor took his gloves off and clapped. May was ready to find Liang and her dad.
Even Jade, who had never skied before, was impressed by May’s stop. She spun by in an attempted parallel stop. “You’re a natural.”
“Let’s head for the ski lift.”
Jade finally slid to a halt, then backtracked like a duck with webbed feet to May’s side. She lifted her eyes up the full length of the ski lift and shook her head. “I have so much snow wedged up my bottom, I would slide off the chair.”
May slapped a dry mitten against her friend’s derriere and knocked the encrusted ice off.
“You go, girl.” It was a skier with a cowboy hat tilted jauntily back.
“Thank you.” May made sure her friend was good and dry. “Now, let’s make use of our all-day passes. Follow me.”
Getting on the chairlift didn’t prove too difficult or frightening. Soon it was time to get off at the top of the mountain. May saw skiers standing up to leave the chair in front of them. They dropped immediately from sight.
“This is not for bunnies.” She grabbed Jade’s yellow ski parka.
As their turn approached to get off, Jade was busy fighting her off.
“Straighten out your skis,” the chairlift operator called.
May looked down. She wasn’t even sure which skis were hers.
Jade pointed her ski tips up, so May did likewise. She held tight to Jade’s arm and allowed her skis to catch a groove in the snow.
“Stand up,” the operator said.
May stood, but one of her ski tips was inside Jade’s. Just then, the chair nudged her from behind and sent her gliding down a ten-foot drop-off. She grabbed for her friend and managed to pull Jade’s ski cap over her eyes.
“I can’t see.”
The two reeled backward as gravity took them straight down the icy ramp. Somehow, May managed to wrench her shoulders around and dig a pole into the snow. Moments later, the two skidded around and ended up with their ski tips pointed over the top of a cliff.
Jade pushed May’s weight off of her and pulled her cap up.
“Ay-yo!”
She fell all over May trying to keep from sliding down the cliff into the valley below.
“What happened to the ski slope?” she blurted out.
May was busy getting them backed away from the brink. The two slid backward and ended up tangled up by a large map of the area.
May eyed the map with confusion. “I think this is the ski slope.” The ski trails looked like a bowl of noodles.
Jade stood stupefied. “I feel like a wooden cock.”
May took a deep breath. “We must open our eyes and expose our gall.”
“Right. Even though a praying mantis can’t stop a cart.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Jade shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“What did our instructor say?” May studied the map. “Is black easy or difficult?” She adjusted her tinted goggles and looked around her at the top of the mountain that led out to trails in several directions. All eventually disappeared from view. She couldn’t even see the town of Breckenridge in the valley.
The afternoon was growing late, and the sun only struck the top of the mountain where they stood and on the opposite peaks. She looked for other skiers. Maybe they could stand right there and find her father.
The only skiers around were women dressed in chic one-piece snowsuits and cowboys with tight jeans and wraparound shades. There was no sign of a Chinese hunk attached to a little old scientist. Perhaps searching the ski slopes had been a mistake.
She let the sun warm her cheeks for the last time, then took a deep breath. There was no elegant way to do this.
She pushed against her poles and allowed gravity to begin tugging at her skis. “Follow me,” she said bravely over her shoulder, and headed toward a trail marked with a black diamond.
She heard a scream behind her and quickly pulled her toes together for a stop. Jade was descending the mountain backwards. Her skis grew wider apart and pulling her legs in opposite directions.
“Fall down!”
Jade thrust all her weight onto the downhill ski. The tip of her other ski swung up in a wide arc. The back end of the free ski got snagged in the snow and jerked her leg around. May watched in horror as Jade twisted her torso to follow the ski that was spinning around like a windmill. With a slight hop, Jade changed her weight onto the ski that was now pointed straight downhill. Miraculously, she recovered herself by pulling both skis together.
“Progressive!” a young cowboy approved.
If the move had been intentional, it would have been spectacular. But May took it for what it really was, pure luck. Now Jade was flying with both skis pointed straight downhill.
“Slow down!” she cried.
“How?” It was the last word she heard.
May dug her ski poles in and broke through a thin crust of ice. Then she chased after her friend, but tried to keep her speed in check. After all, there might be beginners on the slope.
She glanced up from time to time, but found Jade nowhere in sight. She kept her ears open for the sound of a scream, or siren.
With each passing snowy knoll or turn in the woods, May gained more confidence that her friend had figured out how to survive. After all, Jade was a master of several martial arts and had great control over her body. Perhaps she was aligning herself with the tao of the mountain. For her part, May was far more cautious. She maintained her snowplow to the point where she could stop if needed. So what if other skiers streaked past?
“On your right,” one would call out.
“On your left.”
The others tackling that slope seemed to be on the edge of losing control, yet they were full of glee. Perhaps to really enjoy skiing, one had to abandon one’s self to the mountain and the forces of nature.
Perhaps she should give it a try.
She hauled her heels together and pointed her tips straight downhill. The effect was immediate. Despite the snow being sluggish and wet, she picked up speed immediately. Going faster melted the
snow under her skis, then turned the wetness to ice. Before she knew it, she was gliding so fast she wasn’t sure she could make the next turn. The trail veered sharply to the left, and she wasn’t slowing down or changing direction. In fact, she was still accelerating.
Be one with the mountain.
She took a deep breath and tried to ease into the turn. The speed was terrifying, yet exhilarating. Beautiful mansions flashed by on her left. She found her heart drumming hard against her chest. She leaned further into the turn and whipped by the trees.
Her edges were finally beginning to bite, but her speed continued to increase. The wind felt cold as it whistled through her cap. She passed several couples and swerved into the middle of the run.
“On you left,” she shouted. She left a young man in a blizzard of snow.
“You go, girl,” he called after her. It was the same cowboy who had encouraged them at the base of the lift.
Had she passed Jade? May would have to examine the skiers more closely as she sped past.
Several sharp turns later, followed by a narrow chute and a few seconds in the air, she saw the slope open up onto a bowl. In the center, she found Jade negotiating a wide left turn at high speed.
Her cap was askew and her hair and scarf flew straight out behind her. She was using the open space to apply the brakes. But it wasn’t working.
May steered in the same direction and gained rapidly on her.
Snow flew from Jade’s uphill edges and her skis grudgingly complied by turning uphill. But she was still a streak of yellow followed by a scream. She traversed the slope and aimed for the homes that sat behind a thin stand of trees.
May realized too late that she and Jade would smash into the trees. At her speed, May might run straight through the trees and into the house beyond.
Jade’s route was taking her directly into May’s path.
“Look out!” May cried.
She leaned back instinctively and lost her balance. The wind caught her skis and flipped them straight toward her face. She twisted away to avoid getting poked in the eye. She landed hard on her rump and bounced several times on her back. She groaned with embarrassment, as her skis swirled overhead like chopper blades.
To keep from ramming into her friend, she tried to dig her mittens into the snow.
Jade was shrieking in terror.
Snow sounded like the crumpling of cardboard as May scraped across it. Eventually her momentum decreased to the point that her legs flopped forward. She dug the edges of both skis into the snow. Her knees buckled under the strain. She leaned heavily against her poles, and the world slowly turned upright.
Her eyes were full of snowflakes. Her ears burned. Her cap had flown off and was snagged by Velcro to her glove. Her leg muscles trembled with fatigue. And she found herself standing directly in front of her friend.
“Wasn’t that exciting?” Jade said.
May let her breath out and blew a few strands of hair off her lips.
“Gnarly stop!” a young man shouted as he pulled up to congratulate them. Several groups and couples gathered around in awe and curiosity.
May bent down to wipe the snow off her knees, and Jade brushed it off May’s posterior.
“Boy, what I would give for some of that!” one young man said under his breath.
“I am sorry. They are rented.”
Just then May felt a deep vibration in her coat pocket. It was her cell phone. Several cowboys glided up to her. They reached out and batted flakes of snow out of her hair and off her elbows and boots.
It was embarrassing, but she had to take the call. She took a mitten off and pulled the phone out of her pocket. The number on the screen was from China. She clicked the talk button and put the phone to her ear. “Wei?”
The young guys were so busy helping her that they couldn’t take their hands off of her.
“Okay, that is enough.”
Through the receiver, she heard a distant door whoosh open followed by the cacophony of background noise. It was the distinctive sound of a shopping mall with modern Chinese music. But whoever had called wasn’t talking.
She knit her eyebrows. “Who is this?”
Chapter 13
Reverend Terry Smith relaxed in his private jet. He was flying back to Atlanta, but his mind was still on Southern California.
He had spent the noon hours with Governor Randy Walsh. Everything had gone according to plan. He had slipped a drop of LSD into Randy’s flask of whiskey while they were on the sailboat. Then he watched the governor talk incoherently for several minutes before lapsing into a happy daze. Terry had taken the opportunity to steer them further into the bay and away from the dock master, the reporters and the governor’s security detail.
There, Terry had come around into the wind quickly. That sent the main sail’s boom right into the back of the governor’s head. The poor guy had fallen to his knees, where he remained semiconscious for several minutes.
But, like the good sports hero that he had been in college, Randy had pulled himself together. He even hosted a lunch of seared ahi with lavender-pepper crust on the Spinnaker Deck of the club.
Terry had to admit it was easy to get used to his airborne office. He especially liked the miniaturized version of his office computer and the chance to make phone calls, of which he had several to place. The first would be difficult. He would have to patch up a slip of the tongue made by his predecessor, the real Terry Smith, shortly before he was replaced.
He swiveled in his desk chair and pressed the Contacts button. His eyes flashed up to a list displayed on a computer screen. He moved the pointer down to the Heads of State list. Thankfully, Venezuela was there.
He boned up on the most recent contact between President Carlos Velázquez and the Reverend Terry Smith four months before. The venue had been an offshoot of the Summit of the Americas held in Monteverde, Costa Rica. The purpose of the conversation had been to explore ways to make the Venezuelan president more popular at home.
He braced for confrontation and a moment later found himself on a private line to the president’s office in Caracas.
“Hi, Carlos.”
“Reverend Señor Smith!” came the indignant reply.
“Hey, stick with English, please.”
“I refuse to talk with you. In my past election, you threatened me and dishonored my country.”
Terry had expected the tirade. “Easy, Carlos. I didn’t mean it personally.”
“Absurdo! You told your television audience that it would be a good idea to assassinate me. How is that not personal?”
“It was a smoke screen,” Terry said.
“Que?”
“All Cuban cigars,” Maybe the socialist reference would put the guy at ease.
It didn’t.
“You are as bad as the jihadistos. I feel trapped in hiding like Salman Rushdie. Why have you done this to me?”
“We cannot make our alliance public,” Terry said. “It would erode my voter base.”
“Yes, and now you are running for president, and my country is preparing for all-out war!”
“There is no need for that, my friend. Now we need to proceed with the next step.”
“Next step, my foot. We have no agreement. We haven’t even spoken since that tragic day you called for my head.”
“You must admit that it has done wonders for your popularity.”
“Well, for that, I am most grateful.” Shortly after Terry Smith had uttered his threat, Carlos had handily won reelection.
“Now I need a favor from you,” Terry said.
“Speak, mi amigo.”
Several minutes later, having completed his request of Caracas, he checked his watch. It was already 4:00 p.m. in California.
He leaned down and pressed the Contacts button once again. This time it was only someone in the VVIP list, his old buddy the Governor of California. He pressed the button and lifted the phone. “Randy?”
But a woman answered. “I’m sorry,
the governor is in a press conference right now. You might catch him on CNN.”
Terry hung up and turned the plasma screen on.
After a news story about more hostilities in the Middle East, the station cut away for breaking news. Sure enough, Randy Walsh was concluding a major announcement before a bevy of reporters. “So therefore, orders have been issued.”
A reporter announced over the bedlam that ensued, “There you have it. California has banned incoming foreign shipments at all ports of entry. California, the world’s fifth largest economy, has just slammed its doors shut on the outside world.”
Terry had to hand it to Dr. Yu. That old geezer had done it again. Aside from Yu’s theories about Asian forms of religion trumping that of the West, the old guy was a genius.
Dozens of reporters shouted questions at the governor, who responded calmly.
“You ask for justification?” Randy said. “What greater justification can there be than the health and safety of the American people?”
Terry turned the television off. Despite his enormous success at causing the closures, something still troubled him. How would the president respond? How long could Randy Walsh hold out against federal pressure? If it came down to the U.S. Army against the state militia to open port facilities, there was no question that federal force would prevail. Randy Walsh had to be prepared to go the next step with the embargo.
Terry placed another call, this time to Breckenridge.
“Leng,” came the voice.
“Liang?” Terry said. “Tell the old man he has done a good job with Governor Walsh. But I want him to talk to the football again.”
“What this time?”
“I’m afraid that federal troops might try to intervene in California and force the ports to open. So we need a backup plan to halt the flow of goods. Have the Governor of California force a strike. Have him threaten to withhold state benefits from anyone who reports to work at the docks.”
“State benefits?”
“You know, health insurance, unemployment benefits, disability benefits, retirement, driver’s licenses, scholarships. That sort of thing.”
“Oh,” Liang said, finally getting it. “State subsidies.”
