Chapter Ten
Amanda
It took him. “Spencer!” I cry, clinging to the limb of the tree.
No. The shaking has stopped, and the earth has stilled beneath me.
I release the branch and lower myself only three feet down to the snow.
Can I stand on this? Will it hold my weight?
I bend to my hands and knees. The surface shifts, and my breath catches, but it holds me.
The world looks the same, but higher, almost meeting the first level of branches on these aged pine trees.
But the world won’t be the same if Spencer is not in it.
I stand on shaky legs and ball my hands into fists as I scan the white tundra spiked with pine trees. There’s no sign of him. My face tightens as warm tears roll down my cheeks.
“Spencer,” I whisper.
He had to have been launched straight forward.
I move like a ghost through a graveyard, like mist through the night on this unsteady surface.
With each step I take, it shifts underneath me since the snow has not settled.
About twenty feet in front of me is another tree, and the edge of our yellow tarp is peeking out of the snow.
I launch myself forward, not caring about the earth caving in under me.
“Please be you, and please be okay.” I choke on the words as I drop to my hands and knees and frantically begin digging.
I reach more of the tarp and claw through the snow.
I would claw through steel to get to him.
My vision is blurry as the tears fall from my face straight to where I hope he is buried and alive.
“Spencer, I’m here!” I shout with a shaky voice.
The deeper I dig, the more my heart plummets as I’m aware of the impact his body must have taken from the force of the avalanche and the tree that stopped his momentum.
My arms burn, and it’s like I’m watching myself from above, not from within.
My fingers brush over gray material, his hat, and a cry escapes me.
“Please be alive,” I whisper over and over again as I burrow through.
His gloved hands covering his face are the first things I free, as the rest of him is still packed under several feet of snow.
I peel his hands down off his beautiful features, and his eyes are closed.
“No,” I choke out. “Wake up.” I rip my glove off my hand and place my fingers on the artery on his neck and whimper, afraid of what I might find.
My hand trembles, and I breathe in and steady myself.
“Calm down. Find his pulse. It will be there,” I say in a confident tone, one he would use.
Thump, thump, pulses against my fingers, and my words stammer on another sob.
“I’m going to get you out. I’m here. Don’t you dare go anywhere!
” I’m operating on another level again, looking from above as I clear all the snow from around him.
His body appears normal, nothing bent at any odd angles, but I’m sure he is suffering internal injuries, and the fact that he is unconscious tells me he’s in bad shape.
I wriggle behind him and cradle his head on my lap as I stroke his face.
“I’m not a doctor like you. I don’t know what to do. ”
Minutes pass that feel like hours, and Spencer’s eyes remain closed.
His pulse is still there, but it feels slower and weaker against my fingertips.
“I’ve never told anyone this before, but I used to think love was enough.
Enough to carry you through any situation.
That once you found your person, it didn’t matter the circumstance.
If you had love, you’d conquer anything, ride out any hardship; you’d face it all, together.
” I stroke his face, hoping to see his eyelids flutter, but there’s nothing.
“Phil took that from me. He was the first and only man I ever loved. I was like a kid who believed in Santa.” I laugh through my tears.
“But he took away the magic. Jaded me. He took away my self-confidence and not only the way I viewed love, but the world. He turned it into an ugly place for me, with one of the only lights being Tyler.” My son, my world, and I will make it back.
We will make it back. “But then I met you, and you made me believe again. You made me feel good about humanity and love, but also myself. You did that, Spencer, and by God, you will make it out of here with me and let me love you because you are one of the worthiest and most deserving humans I know.”
Chak-chak-chak vibrates from a distance, and my head lifts to the heavens, past the treetops.
A helicopter…the flare gun. I gently rock Spencer forward and lay his head in the snow and kiss his lips before tearing into the front pocket of the backpack and pulling out the flare gun.
I stumble to the best clearing I have to blue sky through never-ending treetops and fire.
My shaking hands load another flare into the cartridge and fire again.
The steady booms from above hover over us.
I limp back to Spencer and fall to the ground and curl next to him.
As soon as we land, Spencer is taken in for emergency surgery for a punctured lung, kidney lacerations, and he has another concussion. The next twenty-four hours are critical for his survival.
Originally, they weren’t going to let me visit him. Then I screamed, “I go where he goes!” as the chopper landed. They literally had to peel me off of him. It was a good indication I was close enough to be a visitor.
We are both only moderately dehydrated, a gift from the abundant snow.
Miraculously, we’ve only suffered mild frostbite.
No skin, digits, or extremities need to be removed.
I have an ankle sprain and a fracture of my lower fibula, which has partially healed.
I am convinced we had divine intervention with the cave, wolves, Spencer’s doctor skills, and search and rescue flying over us just after the avalanche.
Spencer wouldn’t be alive if help hadn’t come right at that moment.
He still may not make it, and as I lie in my hospital bed, I pray that he makes it out of his surgery and through the night.
A tremor wracks through me, and the thought of losing him is too much to bear.
They’ve notified my parents and Phil, since Tyler is with him, of our rescue when they first brought us in.
My parents and Tyler are taking a flight out first thing in the morning.
A flight. That doesn’t sit well. The nurse is kind enough to let me use her phone to FaceTime Tyler.
With my body shaking in anticipation, I call Phil.
He pops onto the screen, his blue eyes soft and his milk chocolate-colored hair slightly unkept. “Amanda? I’m so relieved you’re okay.”
“Thanks. Can I talk to Tyler?” I am in no mood for small talk with Phil.
“Sure.” He turns the phone to Tyler, and I clamp my hand over my mouth so he doesn’t hear the sob that comes from me as I see his sweet face. There are no emotions that compare to that raw, primal love of a mother and their child.
“Mommy?” To hear his little voice shakes me to my very core.
“Tyler,” I choke out as I wipe away the tears, but stop as there are too many to chase away. “I’ve missed you so much.”
“I knew it,” he said. His big blue eyes shine through the screen.
“Knew what?” I whisper.
“That you’d be home for Christmas.”
I toss and turn throughout the night, not realizing how accustomed I had become to sleeping tangled up with Spencer.
Even though we were on the hard ground with minimal cushioning, his body heat, scent, and security were more comfortable than lying on a luxury king mattress.
I also can’t sleep because of the worry and dread that twists my stomach into painful knots.
I page the nurse a few times to find out the status of his surgery and only drift off because my body is screaming for it after finding out he’s made it out alive and his vitals are stable.
My parents are leaving on a flight with Tyler this morning, a very different Christmas for him. They are going to be tired after the long journey. My body is achy, and the wariness and exhaustion settle in after living on adrenaline for the past month.
The door swings open, and Zona, the nurse on schedule, enters with a smile, wearing her teal scrubs. “Good morning, Amanda. How did you sleep?” she asks, humming while she approaches the bed with a new pitcher of water.
“Fairly well. How was the night shift?” I ask.
“It was good. I’m finally used to it, and now I’ll be all out of whack since I’m back to my regular day hours this week.” She chuckles. “Water?”
“Yes, please.”
She pours it into a plastic cup filled with ice. When she leans over to hand it to me, a piece of her dark brown hair falls out of her messy bun, and she tucks it behind her ear. “They said I can visit Spencer; I’d like to do it as soon as possible.”
“It’s wonderful they are allowing you to do that.
It’s rare they let anyone into the ICU unless you are close family.
” Her eyes soften as she presses her lips together.
Last night, I told her about our fight for survival.
I fidget with my hands on my lap and look down at them.
“You’re lucky you had each other out there.
” I clench my jaw, and my nostrils flare as I fight the tears before I meet her eyes, but I think she already knows.
She knows I fell for him, hard. One may even say I crashed into him.
“I’ll have someone take you to him soon if you’d like,” she says, with the inner edges of her brow drawn up and a small smile.
“Thank you,” I whisper.