Chapter 4
Four
JOEL CLUTCHED the thick tree trunk for sweet mercy, his head pressed against the rough, scaling bark.
A cascade of white roared down the mountain—its force lifting his legs up behind him like they didn’t weight a thing.
Locking his arms tighter around the tree, he held on hard—fearing they’d break under the amassing pressure.
Please help me to hang on.
His life literally depended on his slipping grasp. His legs flung like a rag doll behind him.
Give me the strength I don’t possess. I need Your strength.
“God is our refuge and strength, an ever-present help in trouble.”
The words from Psalms broke through his panicked brain but didn’t douse his frenzied concern for Cassie.
She’d been right in the avalanche’s path—nowhere near the tree line.
While he hadn’t physically seen her go under, he dreaded the worst. Being trapped in the undertow, pushed and dragged in its furious path, scraping the bottom of the earth.
So much like a fierce ocean wave stealing your breath.
Breath. He hoped if Cassie was dragged under that she’d gotten one strong breath before the snow closed in around her.
Please, Lord, let her be alive. Please don’t tear her away from me again.
The roaring freight train of snow whooshed over him at lightning speed—the noise and pressure deafening.
Would it ever end?
What seemed an eternity later, it finally settled. The thick wave of rushing snow stilled, the mountain eerily silent. No sound of birds or voices or wind. Just desperate silence.
Cassie.
He moved, or attempted to move, but the packed snow—so high it nearly covered his head—held him fast to the tree. He wriggled, trying to yank his arms free, but no movement. He needed to be shoveled out.
Unable to shift his head more than an inch, he glanced out of his peripheral vision, taking in the devastation—rocks, debris, and mountains of snow.
The wind smacked his cheeks. Cyclones of snow swirled along the surface—the sky a furious charcoal.
Don’t let the blizzard loose. That’s all they’d need.
Please. Not until everyone is safe.
His prayer wasn’t answered as fresh piles of snow broke from the clouds, mixed with pelting ice.
“Joel! Joel!” Izzy’s called, her voice high-pitched, frantic.
Thank you, Lord. His sister was alive. There was one relief. He ached for more.
“Here!” he called, blinking his snow-caked lashes. His sunglasses must have torn off in the avalanche’s wake.
He spotted Iz and Talbot in his peripheral vision.
They climbed up through the thigh-high snow, plowing for him.
“Oh, thank goodness,” Iz said, reaching him and resting a hand on the tip-top of his shoulder—barely an inch above the packed snow line. Talbot approached seconds later.
“You okay, man?” he asked.
“I could use a shovel out.” And fast.
“Of course, dude.” Talbot pulled his avalanche shovel from his pack, unfolded the handle, and locked it in place. Iz did the same.
Soon he was free, but his arms and hands were numb. He shook them out, and they flopped about, unfeeling.
“How is everybody? How is Cassie?” Please say she made it out of the furious path of destruction.
Iz bit her bottom lip.
He narrowed his eyes. “What?” he asked, but he already knew the answer.
She sniffed. “Everyone is fine, thankfully, except—”
“Cassie,” he breathed.
Iz nodded, tears welling in her eyes.
“We’ll find her,” Talbot said, his voice calm and firm with conviction.
Would he be so level if it were Iz in Cassie’s place?
But calm was good in at least one of them.
Talbot would think clearly, and that’s what they needed.
But Joel was far from that level. Panic rushed hot adrenaline through his frozen hands, bringing them back to life with excruciating pain as blood once again began to flow.
Not wasting a second, he broke into a run for the weathered-looking group gathered in a circle.
“Did any of you see Cassie go under the avalanche?” Negative answers sounded.
He turned back toward the slope, scanning the snow and debris-strewn earth, anxiety pricking at his soul as he shouted her name again, waiting, pleading with God for her to answer.
“But she was about a hundred yards from me when it hit,” Devon said.
“Me too,” Mia said. “Maybe less.”
It was something. “And where were you two in relation to her? It might help pin her location.”
“Almost a hundred yards downhill,” Devon said.
“I was a bit lower,” Mia said. “I turned and saw Cassie flying off the outcropping, and then it started.”
“Okay,” Joel said, moving before he finished his question. “So about seventy yards up the slope from here?” He’d only been fifty yards away from her, but the tree he’d clung to blocked his view of everything but brown bark and a wall of snow.
“Yep,” Devon said, and Mia confirmed the distance.
Joel broke into a flat-out run uphill, tumbling forward with his flailing momentum.
He landed on his knees, cold creeping into his bones.
Righting himself, he continued the climb—his legs still struggling to wake up—to work right.
Could anything be more infuriating? Time was of the essence and his body was taking its sweet time coming back to life.
“Cassie,” he bellowed, progressing through high snow drifts—his steps deliberate, his legs shaking.
Other voices chimed in, calling Cassie’s name—the crew spreading out and upward.
“We have a starting point,” Izzy hollered.
He halted and turned to face her. “We do?” Hope lanced his soul.
“Yes, but we have to keep in mind how far the avalanche may have carried her,” Iz said.
“I know.” The thudding of his racing heart whooshed through his ears, making everyone’s voices sound distant and echoed.
Please let me find her alive.
He couldn’t imagine a world without Cassie, even if she was never to be his.
The thought of losing Cassie to the avalanche reverberated through his distressed mind.
“Joel.” Iz tugged his elbow.
“What?” he snapped. “Sorry.”
She shook it off. “Jayce made up a search grid by sections.”
He swept his gaze over the crew systematically forming into a grid formation, all beginning to search their sector for Cassie with their lancing probes.
“What about her beacon?” What was wrong with him? He should have thought of that first. “Her balloon?” Why hadn’t she pulled it? Was she unconscious?
Please, Lord, let her be awake.
He hated the thought of her awake and terrified under the snow, but she’d have an air hole if she was conscious.
“I’m getting no signal from her,” Talbot said.
Had the weight of the avalanche crushed it? Was her balloon malfunctioning? It didn’t matter why both weren’t working. Just that they weren’t.
He grabbed his lancing probe from his pack. “Where’s my grid?”
Talbot walked it out for him.
He swallowed, his throat raw. Snow drove sideways lashing Joel in the face, the encroaching blizzard picking up speed. Only a short window existed to locate Cassie before she’d suffocated under the snow. An air pocket only lasted so long, and with fresh snow piling on . . .
He tightened his jaw, unwilling to go there. They’d find her. He wouldn’t stop until they did.
Twenty minutes later, he moved to the next unsearched grid, his arms heated and trembling, his steps staggering, his legs listless.
Please, Father, let this grid be the one. “Please,” he breathed. The ferocious blizzard growled in the oncoming night, swallowing the light.
A thousand different scenarios raced through his mind. He worked from the bottom left edge of the grid. Across the delineated space, his heart sinking with each empty quadrant. Their chance of finding Cassie—of her surviving until they found her . . . Time was swallowed in an endless void.