Snow Falls

chapter Two



“Great,” Jen murmured. “Just great.” She stopped the rented SUV, glancing out the windows in all directions, seeing nothing but snow, snow and more snow. Surely this wasn’t the road to the lodge. She reached for the map, printed only as an afterthought. The directions seemed rather simple, and she thought even she couldn’t get lost. Of course, not knowing where she was, the map was useless. “Writer’s workshop. In February. In the mountains.” Sure, sounded good on paper. She checked her phone again. Still no signal.

She got out, her boots sinking past her ankles into the fresh snow. She saw a road sign, its face covered in snow. She headed for it, then sunk nearly to her thighs; she was obviously off the road, the sign still five feet from her. She turned and struggled back to the SUV, then stomped her boots, knocking the snow off. Looking around, she realized she had only one option. And turning around wasn’t it. She blew out a frosty breath, then got back inside, thankful she’d at least had the foresight to rent a four-wheel drive vehicle.

She drove on carefully, slowly, realizing too late that she had no idea where the road was. Minutes later, the front tires sunk like a rock.

“Oh no. Seriously?” She threw the car in reverse, only to have the rear tires spin uselessly.


***



Ryan frowned as the sun reflected off of glass. She reached in the side pocket of her backpack and pulled out the compact binoculars she always carried.

“What the hell?” she murmured. A black SUV was buried up to the front bumper in snow. “What idiot tried to drive up here?”

The dogs whined beside her, ready to continue on with their hike. She reached down, petting them both absently, her eyes scanning the white landscape. She was torn. Someone could need help. But with the fresh snow from the other day, even using the snowshoes, it’d be a hard forty-five-minute hike to reach the SUV. Not to mention the forest road was right in the path of Cooper’s Peak’s avalanche chute. She’d been taking this route daily for the last week, hoping to witness the run, but she didn’t want that close a view.

She figured they must have followed the snowmobile route up the mountain. Morgan had told her they’d closed the road in early January to vehicle traffic after they’d ceased plowing it. She scanned the area again, not seeing any movement. She was about to go on, assuming whoever was crazy enough to drive up the mountain in the first place had hiked back down on the same route, when a flash of blue caught her eye. She brought the binoculars up again, focusing well past the SUV.

“Hey,” she yelled, waving her arms. “Hey! Get the hell out of there!” The person stopped, looking around for the sound of her voice. “Here,” she yelled, waving her arms again. The idiot finally spotted her and waved back. Ryan lowered her binoculars with a shake of her head. “Damn tourist,” she murmured. “Come on, girls.”

The dogs ran ahead of her, and she hoped she wasn’t putting all their lives in danger. She walked as fast as her snowshoes would allow, continuing to wave the person in her direction and away from the avalanche path. She glanced up the mountain, finding herself much too close to the edge of the chute. The mountain was swollen with snow and the warmer temperature today, coupled with the wind, made conditions ripe. It might have been her imagination, but she thought she felt a slight tremor under her feet; her heart thundered nervously in response.

“Come on,” she yelled. “This way. Hurry!”

“I’m trying.”

Ryan shook her head. A woman. That figures. She was close now. Fifty feet at least, but Ryan didn’t want to chance going down the crest any further. She saw the woman struggling to walk in the snow, sinking each time above her knees. When she paused to rest, Ryan took another couple of steps in her direction.

“Come on,” she said loudly.

The woman put her hands on her hips. “What’s the rush?”

“You’re in the goddamn path of an avalanche, that’s the rush,” she yelled back.

The woman’s eyes widened, then, after a quick glance behind her, she hurried up the hill toward Ryan, using her hands to balance herself in the snow. Both dogs ran to meet her, barking their greeting. Ryan went down another few feet, holding out her hand to the woman. She took it, and Ryan nearly dragged her up the hill and over the crest.

“Walk in my tracks,” she said quickly. “We’ve got to get the hell out of here.”

All she heard was ragged breathing and the crunch of snow as she retraced her steps. She stopped suddenly, feeling a definite tremor, then another. “Oh f*ck,” she whispered. “Run! Now!”

The dogs seemed to know that danger was imminent as they both barked frantically, running back and forth toward Ryan, then away.

“I know, I know,” she said. She was tempted to take off the snowshoes, but each second was precious. Her thighs burned as she concentrated on each step. Her shoes were caked with snow now, but she didn’t pause to clean them. “Come on,” she yelled behind her. “No time to waste.”

“I can’t,” the woman cried. “My legs are cramping.”

“Jesus,” Ryan hissed. She turned, again grabbing the woman’s hand and yanking her up. “Suck it up or we’re both going to die,” she said, her gaze meeting the woman’s directly for the first time. She looked into eyes as blue as the mountain sky, eyes shrouded in fear. “Now come on.”

The woman nodded, her gloved hand gripping tighter to Ryan’s. They got no more than ten feet further when she heard a low rumble. She stopped, her glance going to the top of Cooper’s Peak. She could literally see the mountain move. They were nearing a tree line, a scattering of spruce and firs dotting the landscape. She hoped the trees signaled that they were out of the path of the impending avalanche. Another two steps and she sunk past her thighs, her snowshoes scraping the side of a buried boulder. She pulled the woman past her, motioning to the spruce tree in front of them.

“Get behind it,” she instructed, though she knew the tree would offer them little protection if the avalanche swept their way.

The whole mountain began to shake, the low rumble turning into an angry roar. Their hands were still gripped tightly together, but Ryan’s eyes were glued to the show. The dogs whimpered beside her, and with her free hand she pulled them close to her. She watched in awe as the snow gave way, rushing down the chute at an amazing speed, covering everything in its path for hundreds of feet. A whoosh of cold air hit them as the snow sped past.

As quickly as it started, it was over. An eerie silence followed. She was aware of the absence of chattering jays and nutcrackers. Even the chickadees which constantly flitted among the trees were nowhere to be found.

“Wow.”

Ryan turned, finding the woman’s gaze still lingering on the mass of snow that now filled the crevice of the mountain, a space they had been scrambling out of only minutes earlier. A part of her was glad that there’d been someone here to share this moment with, someone other than the dogs. But the reality of the situation hit her. She pulled away from the woman, her eyebrows drawn together.

“Are you insane?”

The woman blinked several times as if considering the question literally. “Apparently.” She moved from behind the tree, pausing to pet a dancing Sierra before wiping at the snow clinging to her pants. “It seemed like a good idea at the time.”

“What? Crossing the barricade blocking the road? Driving on a closed road in the first place?”

The woman frowned. “What are you talking about? Aren’t you from the lodge?”

It was Ryan’s turn to frown. “The lodge? Patterson’s Lodge?”

“Yes. I’m booked there for a workshop.”

Ryan shook her head. Unbelievable. “Across the mountains there,” she said, pointing, “you’re about eight miles away. By car, you’re about fifteen miles or so.” She shrugged. “Or six or eight weeks, give or take.”

“What?”

Ryan began the slow hike up the mountain, whistling for the dogs to follow. She heard the woman scrambling after her.

“Wait a minute. What do you mean, six or eight weeks?”

Ryan turned around, angry now. She pointed down to where the woman’s car had been. Where it still was. Only now it was buried by a ton of snow. “What are you going to do? Drive out of here?” Ryan continued on. “You’re stuck here,” she tossed over her shoulder.

“Stuck?”

“Yeah, stuck. Stranded. Snowed in.”

“Will you wait a minute? Please?”

Jesus. All Ryan could think about was that her plans for solitude had been shattered. Because some idiot woman got lost. So she stopped, waiting for the woman to catch up to her. Her anger faded, however, when she saw those sky-blue eyes filled with fear.

“I’m sorry, but where are we exactly? And...and who are you?”

It was only then that Ryan noticed the backpack slung over one shoulder and what appeared to be a laptop case strapped around her neck. She took the backpack from her, surprised at the heaviness of it. At least the woman had thought to get something from her car.

“That’s Cooper’s Peak,” she said, motioning to the mountain behind them. “My cabin is on the next ridge. We’re about fifteen miles south of Lake City. My name is...Ryan.”

“I’m Jennifer Kincaid,” she said. “Everyone calls me Jen.” She tilted her head. “Ryan? Is that your last name?”

Ryan lifted a corner of her mouth quickly, then began walking. “It’s just Ryan,” she said.