Chapter 10 #2
Charlie had wandered a few steps away, Flo at her side, looking out over the tundra stretching toward the distant peaks. The wind whipped her ponytail sideways, and she tilted her face up to the sun like she was drinking in the altitude and the light.
Ben wanted to go stand beside her. Wanted to point out the landmarks he knew by heart—Stanley Mountain to the southwest, Vasquez Peak to the west, Colorado Mines Peak to the east. Wanted to tell her about the time he and the guys had camped up here at the end of August and woken to four inches of fresh snow, or the afternoon Bear had spotted a moose at fifty yards and they'd all frozen like they were on patrol.
But she looked peaceful standing there alone, and Ben didn't want to intrude.
“All right,” Viv said, grabbing her hat just as the wind tried to whip it away. “I've seen enough here. Let’s check out the Eisenhower Tunnel area.”
“We can hit Georgetown for lunch, if you’re getting hungry,” Ben said.
“Sounds good,” Rowan said.
“Everyone ready?” Charlie asked, turning back toward the SUV. “Make sure you’re drinking water. I brought plenty of bottles.”
They piled back in, Ben taking his navigator seat up front.
Charlie pulled out of the parking lot and started the winding descent toward Georgetown.
The road dropped through switchbacks, trees gradually thickening again as they lost elevation.
Charlie handled the curves with the same steady competence she brought to everything, and Ben found himself relaxing into the rhythm of it—the hum of the engine, the shifting light through the windshield, the easy conversation from the back seat.
“Georgetown's an old silver mining town,” Ben said as they approached the final curves before town. “Lot of history. Good sandwiches, too.”
“Where are we stopping?” Maddie asked.
“There’s a little mom and pop place called Mountain Buzz Cafe,” Ben said. “Best sandwiches in town, and we can grab them to go. There's a good spot near the Eisenhower Tunnel where we can eat with a view.”
Charlie glanced at him. “You've got this whole day planned out, don't you?”
“Maybe.” Ben grinned. “Is that okay?”
“It's perfect,” Viv said from the back seat before Charlie could answer. “I love a man with a plan.”
Rowan laughed. “She really does.”
Georgetown appeared below them—a cluster of Victorian buildings tucked into the valley, the old Georgetown Loop Railroad visible as a thin line cutting through the canyon.
Charlie followed Ben's directions down the main street, past historic storefronts and restaurants, until they reached Mountain Buzz Cafe.
“I'll run in,” Ben said. “What does everyone want?”
They called out orders—turkey and Swiss for Viv, Italian sub for Rowan, veggie wrap for Maddie. Charlie hesitated.
“The roast beef's good,” Ben offered. “Or they've got a killer chicken salad.”
“Roast beef,” Charlie said. “Thanks.”
Ben mentally added roast beef sandwiches to the growing list of things Charlie liked, right below chorizo burritos and coffee with a splash of cream.
Small victories.
He jogged into the cafe, placed the order, and waited by the counter while they assembled the sandwiches. Through the window, he could see Charlie leaning against the SUV, Flo sitting at her feet, both of them watching the street. Always scanning. Always aware. Always ready.
The guy behind the counter called his number, and Ben grabbed the bag of sandwiches and a carrier with five drinks—black coffee with cream for Charlie, because he'd noticed her cup from this morning was empty.
When he climbed back into the SUV, he handed Charlie her coffee first.
“You didn't have to do that,” she said, but she was smiling.
“I know,” Ben said. And he did know. He just wanted to anyway.
The Eisenhower Tunnel sat like a concrete bunker carved into the mountain, swallowing westbound traffic in steady pulses. Charlie pulled into a designated overlook area just east of the tunnel entrance, and they climbed out into air that smelled of trees and diesel exhaust.
“Well,” Viv said, hands on her hips as she surveyed the scene. “This is... brutalist.”
She wasn't wrong. The tunnel portal dominated the view—massive, utilitarian, designed for function over form.
Above it, Interstate 70 cut a wide swath through the landscape, guardrails and concrete barriers marching up the slope.
It was impressive from an engineering standpoint. From a cinematic one? Not so much.
“The avalanche paths are up there,” Ben said, pointing to the steep slopes above the highway. “Loop Road, Batch Plant, Whistler. CDOT's got eight Gazex systems on Loop Road alone.”
Maddie was taking notes, but even she looked dubious. “It's very... visible. All the infrastructure, I mean.”
“That's the problem,” Viv said, rubbing her temples. She asked Maddie to pull up a conceptual rendering showing Lord Felldark's Mountain Keep perched on an isolated peak, surrounded by nothing but snow and stone.
Rowan unwrapped his sandwich as he leaned against the SUV. “This doesn't read as remote. It reads as 'busy highway with avalanche danger.'“
“Could we shoot it from a different angle? Make the tunnel disappear?” Maddie asked.
“Maybe,” Viv said, but she didn't sound convinced. “Ben, do you know any secret spots?”
Ben had been quiet, chewing thoughtfully on his roast beef sandwich while he studied the terrain. Now he gestured up the slope with his free hand.
“If you hiked up about half a mile,” he said, “got above the infrastructure—say, near the Loop Road path—you could frame the shot to avoid the highway entirely.
Get nothing but mountain and sky. The avalanche chute would still be dramatic, you'd just need permission to position your cameras up there.”
“That could work,” Viv said. “If we're shooting from above, we wouldn't see any of the road, but I’m still not sure about the angle.” She rubbed her temples again.
“Do you want to see it from there?” Ben asked.
Viv shook her head. “No. Honestly, I think the altitude is getting to me. I’ve been too long at sea level.”
“Hang on,” Charlie said. She jogged back to the SUV and opened the back. She returned a minute later with three canisters.
“O2,” she said as she passed them out to Viv, Rowan, and Maddie. “You just flip the top up, point the nozzle at your mouth, and press down on the top.”
“Oh, I’d forgotten these existed,” Viv said as she studied the canister and flipped the top open. She closed her eyes and took a couple of breaths. “That’s better.”
Viv studied the slope, then looked back at the photo. She sighed. “It's not... right.” She turned to Ben. “What about Loveland Pass? The Seven Sisters, right?”
“Different animal entirely,” Ben said. “More exposed. More dangerous. But also more isolated. No guardrails, no tunnel, nothing that screams 'modern highway.' Just switchbacks cutting through avalanche terrain.”
Viv's eyes lit up. “That's what I want. That's Felldark's Mountain.”
Charlie had been eating her sandwich quietly, Flo lying at her feet with her head on her paws. Now she looked at Ben. “How much more dangerous are we talking?”
“The Seven Sisters are seven separate avalanche paths that all converge on the same stretch of road,” Ben said.
“The pass sits at almost twelve thousand feet. No guardrails on a lot of it. In winter, avalanches have pushed cars right off the road. The Gazex systems up there fail pretty regularly—self-destruct, freeze up, you name it.”
“So it's the real deal,” Viv said.
“It's the real deal,” Ben confirmed.
Viv looked at Rowan, who shrugged. “If that's where you want to film, that's where we'll film. I trust you.”
“Then let's not waste any more time here,” Viv said, already wrapping up the rest of her sandwich. “How far is Loveland Pass?”
“Twenty minutes,” Ben said. “Maybe less.”
“Perfect.” Viv climbed back into the SUV. “Let's go see the Seven Sisters.”
Charlie met Ben's eyes as she opened the driver's door. “You good with that?”
“Yeah,” Ben said. “I want you to see it. It's worth seeing.”
And he did want her to see it. Not just because Viv needed a filming location, but because Loveland Pass was the kind of place that demanded respect.
The kind of place where you felt small and mortal and alive all at once.
The kind of place that separated people who understood the mountains from people who just looked at them.
Charlie King, Ben was willing to bet, would understand.
They piled back into the SUV, and Charlie pulled out of the overlook, merging smoothly onto I-70 westbound. The tunnel swallowed them for a moment—bright sunlight to sudden darkness to bright sunlight again—and then they were climbing toward Exit 216.
In the back seat, Viv was already talking strategy with Maddie and Rowan. But up front, Charlie was quiet, focused on the road, one hand on the wheel and the other resting on the center console.
Ben finished his sandwich, balled up the wrapper, and stuffed it in the bag at his feet. Through the windshield, the mountains rose higher, sharper, the peaks ahead dusted with early snow that hadn't melted even in August.
Twenty minutes to Loveland Pass.
Twenty minutes until Charlie saw the Seven Sisters.
Ben found himself hoping she'd look at the mountains the same way she'd looked at the elephant rides at the Faire—with that unguarded smile that made his chest go tight.
He wanted to see that smile again.