Chapter 22 #2
Just a massive field of churned snow and debris. The work lights they'd set up—buried. The snowmobiles—gone. No markers. No reference points.
Nothing.
Ben killed the engine and jumped off. “Charlie!”
The silence was absolute. Just wind and the settling squeak and creak of snow.
He ran to where he thought the center of the staging area had been and dropped to his knees. Started digging with his bare hands, throwing snow aside.
“Charlie! Can you hear me? Charlie!”
Nothing.
Three feet down. That's what they always said. Most avalanche victims were buried three feet down.
But three feet of avalanche snow and debris was like digging through concrete. The snow had been compressed by the force of the slide, packed so tightly his fingers could barely penetrate it.
He clawed at it anyway. Threw handfuls aside. Moved two feet to the left and dug again.
Nothing.
“Charlie!” His voice cracked. “Princess, please—”
He moved again. Dug. Found nothing but more snow.
His hands were already numb. His chest heaving. Tears froze on his face before he could wipe them away.
Where is she? Where is she!
The debris field was massive—maybe a hundred feet across, thousands of cubic yards of snow. She could be anywhere. Anywhere at all.
He could dig in the wrong spot forever and never find her.
Ben kept digging anyway. Because what else could he do? Stop? Give up?
Never.
He moved again. Dug again. Nothing.
“Charlie,” he whispered. “Please. Please hold on.”
Then—engines. Lights cutting through the darkness.
Snowcats.
The one carrying his brothers, followed by CDOT and Search and Rescue vehicles. They pulled up to the edge of the debris field and doors flew open.
Shane jumped out first, avalanche beacon receiver already in his hand, scanning. His face went tight as he swept the device across the debris field.
“Charlie's beacon. I'm not getting a signal.”
“What do you mean?” Ben's chest constricted. “She was wearing one—”
“I know.” Shane scanned again, adjusting the settings. “Nothing. Either it's buried too deep or—”
“Or it's not transmitting,” Bear said quietly.
Ben felt like the ground had disappeared beneath him. No beacon. No way to find her quickly.
“Then we grid search,” he said, his voice hard. “Every inch. She's here. We're going to find her.”
Bear jumped out with shovels and avalanche probes. Gabe was right behind him with more equipment. Waylon grabbed additional gear from the Snowcat.
And then two dark shapes leaped out before anyone could stop them.
Flo and Pete hit the snow and immediately went to work. Noses down, moving across the debris field in frantic patterns. Flo barked once, sharp and urgent, then started digging at a spot thirty feet from where Ben had been searching.
“Flo!” Ben ran toward her.
But the dog was already moving to another spot, then another. She knew Charlie was here. Somewhere. But there was too much snow, too much disruption, scents scattered by the avalanche's violence.
Pete was doing the same—running, sniffing, digging, moving. Neither dog could pinpoint a location.
“Here.” Bear thrust a shovel at Ben. “We need to grid search. Systematic.”
“No time—” Ben started toward where Flo was digging.
“Moose.” Bear's hand on his shoulder, firm. “We do this right or we don't find them at all.”
Ben wanted to scream. Wanted to dig everywhere at once. Wanted to tear the mountain apart with his bare hands.
But Bear was right.
“Okay,” Ben said, his voice breaking. “Okay. Tell me what to do.”
“Start here.” Gabe was already setting up a grid pattern with the probe, working methodically from the uphill edge. “We probe every two feet. When we get a hit, we dig.”
Shane kept scanning with the beacon receiver, moving across different sections of the debris field. Nothing. No signal at all.
They spread out. Five men with probes, working in a line, systematically checking the debris field.
Flo and Pete kept searching, their patterns less organized but no less desperate. Flo would stop, dig frantically for a few seconds, then move when she found nothing.
Ben forced himself to work methodically. Probe. Step. Probe. Step. Each thrust of the probe might be the one that found her. Or might be another second wasted while Charlie ran out of air.
If she's even alive.
No. Don't think that. She's alive. She has to be alive.
“Focus, Moose,” Bear said quietly. “Stay with us. We'll find her.”
Probe. Step. Probe. Step.
Then Pete started barking. Sharp, urgent, insistent. He started digging frantically at a spot near the uphill edge of the debris field.
“Over here!” Gabe shouted. “Pete's got something!”
They converged on the spot. Ben dropped the probe and grabbed a shovel. Started digging.
Three feet down, his shovel met resistance.
“Careful!” Bear said. They slowed down, using their hands now.
Cloth. Then a hand.
“I've got someone!” Ben's heart hammered. “Charlie—”
The face that emerged wasn't Charlie's.
Rowan.
Gasping, covered in snow and ice, but alive. His eyes were wild, disoriented. Bear and Gabe pulled him free, laid him on the snow.
“Rowan,” Bear said. “Can you hear me?”
Rowan coughed hard. “Wh-wh-where's V-viv? The ava-valanche separated us—” He was shaking so violently he could barely speak. “Sh-she had her oxy-ge-gen. I had m-mine—” He held up a small portable canister, still clutched in his pale hand.
Bear looked at his watch. “How long ago did it hit?”
“Twenty minutes,” Ben said. “Maybe twenty-five.”
“Then they could still have air,” Bear said. “If she still has the canister. If they're together.”
“Charlie?” Ben grabbed Rowan's shoulders. “Was Charlie with Viv?”
“I th-th-think—I d-d-d-on’t know. Charlie was—” Rowan's teeth chattered. “Ch-ch-charlie was shot. M-m-addie.”
Oh fuck. Fuck!
“Cha-charlie tr-tried to throw hers-s-self over Viv. R-r-right before it h-h-it.”
They're together. Charlie's with Viv.
Relief and terror warred in Ben's chest. If Charlie was with Viv, and Viv had oxygen—they had a chance. But where were they?
“Hey!” Someone shouted from down the slope. “I hear something! Someone's calling for help!”
“Charlie?”
Elias ran toward the voice. “It's coming from down there. It’s Duke! Duke! Can you hear me?”
Ben’s heart fell. Why that bastard and not his Charlie?
“Waylon, take two others and get Duke,” Bear ordered. “The rest of us keep searching for Viv, Charlie, and Maddie.”
They spread out again. Ben, Bear, Gabe, Elias. Rowan tried to help but Bear made him sit down before he collapsed.
Flo was still running in frantic circles, barking, digging, moving. She knew Charlie was here. Somewhere.
Probe. Step. Probe. Step.
Hold on, Princess. I'm coming. Just hold on.
Ben's probe hit something. He froze. “Here! I've got something!”
They converged. Started digging carefully.
It was Maddie.
Her face was peaceful. Eyes closed. Like she was sleeping.
But she wasn't breathing.
“She's gone,” Bear said quietly.
Ben felt nothing. No pity, no anger. Just urgency. “Keep searching.”
They moved to the next section of the grid.
Flo barked again, pawing at a spot.
Ben's chest was tight. His hands numb. The cold seeping through his gloves.
Please. Please let it be my princess.
Please let her be alive.