Chapter 31 Brynn
Not having any idea what the situation would be when we got up there, Andi sent us on our way with a promise to check on Murrow
and the keys to her Dodge super-duper-heavy-duty-mega-max-dually-something-or-other pickup truck, which, thankfully, only
Sebastian had her permission to drive. Sure, I knew how to drive a stick, and I’d taken my driving test in the mountains.
I wasn’t even scared of snow. But back when I was driving out here, I was pretty sure they didn’t even make trucks that big
that didn’t require a CDL.
After a quick detour to the inn so Orly could pick up the rest of his packs of equipment, followed by a few minutes in which
Sebastian and Orly nerded out together about advancements in satellite broadcasting ( “Remember when we couldn’t broadcast without a giant dish on top of a truck the size of a small house?
” ), we were climbing in elevation and carefully inching closer to the disaster zone.
Above eleven thousand feet had gotten about a foot of new accumulation overnight, but Sebastian was expertly managing the treacherous roads while also using the drive time to coach me.
“The head of Alpine Rescue is a man named Larsen Perry. Good guy, but very matter-of-fact. He probably won’t want to talk,
but get him to go on the record with something. Anything. If he says, “Today is Thursday,” ask him if you can quote him on that, and you’ll have more than CNN’s got right now.”
“Got it.”
“Chances are it was a cornice avalanche.”
Sure, I’d been schooling Sebastian on avalanche safety just the day before, but this was different. He’d kicked into a different
gear, and I’d shifted out of one. This wasn’t life. This was news.
I typed into the Notes app on my phone. “And cornices are the ones where the overhang snow breaks off?”
“Yeah.” He spun the wheel in precisely the right way to prevent a skid that had threatened to carry us away. “I’m willing
to bet that the kids got too close to the edge. They should still be alive, if that’s what happened and they didn’t get buried.
The problem is that a cornice avalanche can trigger other avalanches—”
“Right.”
“So if anyone else was below...”
“Are we almost there?” Orly whimpered from the back seat. I turned around to face him and found him clinging for dear life
to the grab handle above his window. He had started out sitting behind me but at some point had moved behind Sebastian. Presumably
because the window on my side featured the best view of the “steep, plunging canyon of death,” as he had referred to it.
“Just about five more miles.” I patted him on the knee.
“Which means it’s probably time for you to make a call.” Sebastian glanced at me briefly and then got his eyes back on the road as he reached into the inside pocket of his coat and pulled out the satellite telephone Orly had handed him while they were nerding out. He set it on the seat next to me.
I closed my eyes and exhaled and faced front again. It wasn’t that I was scared to make the call. It wasn’t even that I doubted
whether or not Sebastian was correct about all of this. I was pretty sure he was. I’d grown up in these mountains and knew
them like the back of my hand. There were avalanches every single year, but never at Adelaide Gulch. I mean, Sebastian and
I had been there yesterday, for goodness’ sake. And rarely if ever were the avalanches in this area human caused. It was news,
without a doubt. You throw in a busload of teenagers, it was big news. We wouldn’t know just how big until we got there.
So, yeah. It would be foolish to pass up the opportunity. This was my way back into the hearts and homes of television viewers.
I had a chance to gain respect as an actual journalist. That was what I wanted, right?
Did I?
Or did I just like feeling smart? Was it like Sebastian had said? Was I just seeking the next thing and the next thing and
the next thing that would get me farther away from the woman who had told me that the best part of her day was when she went
to sleep and dreamed I had never been born? Was I still trying to prove to her that she had been wrong when she told me I
was just like her but not as pretty and without as many people who loved me?
“She’s dead, Brynn.”
I hadn’t meant to say it aloud. I hadn’t really even meant to think it. But it was out there, as evidenced by Sebastian and
Orly asking me, “Who’s dead?” in unison.
“Sorry, I just...” I shook my head. “My mother. I think I just realized...” I cleared my throat. “I mean, I knew she
was dead, obviously, but...”
Orly wasn’t sure how to respond, but Sebastian got right to the heart of it. “You don’t have to prove anything to her or anyone else. You know that, right?”
I nodded. I did know that. For the first time in my life, I knew that.
“You know what?” I laughed. Laughter just bubbled out of me. “I hated asking Recep Tayyip Erdogan challenging questions about
the Turkish debt crisis. I don’t care about the Turkish debt crisis. I mean, I’m sure it’s important, but I really don’t care. Does that make me a horrible person?”
I didn’t wait for an answer. “But I loved talking to Chiwetel Ejiofor about Doctor Strange . Loved it. Loved every single minute of it.” I turned to Sebastian and grabbed on to his arm urgently, which made Orly gasp,
but Sebastian was still in complete control of the truck. “What does that say about me? Seriously. Do I sound less smart?
Do you think less of me because I don’t care about the Turkish debt crisis?” I once again didn’t wait for a response, but
the affectionate grin on his lips made it pretty clear what it would have been. “It doesn’t matter if you think less of me.
You know why? I am smart. And I deserve to be with someone who knows that!”
He chuckled. “Okay, I’m all for letting you work this out on your own, but I’ve got to step in here because it sounds like
you’re escape-rooming me right out of the picture. For the record, I know you’re very smart, and I think it’s fantastic that you care more about Chiwetel Ejiofor. Most people outside of Europe and Asia should.”
I released his arm and pointed my finger in his face, making Orly gasp again. “But you don’t. Do you?”
Sebastian sighed. “No, not really. But I’m not normal. I think that if more people understood the impact of Erdogan’s authoritarianism—”
It was my turn to gasp, which made Orly gasp louder and cover his eyes. But my gasp had nothing to do with the fear of impending doom or death. The sky was getting progressively grayer as the snow began to fall again, but everything had just become clear from where I was sitting.
“What’s wrong?” Sebastian asked as he began slowing down, just as flashing lights appeared in the distance, reflecting eerily
off the mountain and the low-set clouds.
Sheriff’s deputies had the road blocked off, so we were going to have to go the rest of the way on foot. And to be allowed
through, I’d need media credentials, which I had. But if I wanted to broadcast, it was time to call Bob Oswell. I picked up
Orly’s satellite phone and turned it over and over in my hands. My mind raced as the truck came to a stop. Bob would get me
on the air. Of course he would. Regardless of my current status in the hearts and minds of the American public. Like Sebastian
had said, there wasn’t a national-caliber reporter anywhere in the world closer to this story than I was.
Except for one.
“You should do it.”
He did a double take as he turned off the ignition.
“What are you talking about?”
“This isn’t what I do, Sebastian.”
“It can be. You’ve covered breaking news before.”
I placed my hand on his arm. “Let me rephrase that. This isn’t what I want to do.”
He studied me, and I studied him right back, watching confusion morph into resistance on his face. “No. Why would I do it?
No way. That’s all so far behind me now—”
“But it doesn’t have to be.”
He shook his head. “No way, Brynn. That’s seriously a different lifetime.” He chuckled nervously. “I’ve been in a lot of therapy
to make sure that’s the case.”
I unbuckled my seat belt and scooted closer to him as a sheriff’s deputy began walking toward us.
“If you can tell me that there isn’t a part of you—maybe even the biggest part—that wants to do it .
. . that there isn’t already a part of you building the story and delivering the report in your mind .
. . then I’ll drop it, and I’ll do it. No hard feelings.
No further questions. But if even the tiniest bit of your hesitation is wrapped up in thinking this is my shot?
” I shook my head. “Don’t hold back for me.
I’ll be fine. And you can be the reporter with the story.
This cagey old news veteran I know told me these opportunities don’t come along very often. ”
We stared at each other, and the longer the silence continued, the more I hoped against hope that I was right. I was pretty
sure I was, but I was also scared that if I was wrong, I’d have to buy him an additional dog. Murrow would never forgive me
if I accidentally caused him to go through all that again.
“There’s no guarantee they’ll put me on the air.”
I scoffed. “Whatever! Every argument you used against me applies to you as well. Except even more. Viewers don’t hate you
like they do me. They just think you were abducted by aliens or something.”
The corners of his mouth rose, and I could swear I could see actual fire behind his eyes. Just then the deputy reached the
truck and tapped on Sebastian’s window. The fire was still in his eyes as he rolled down the window and faced him.
“This road is closed. You’re going to have to circle back.”
Sebastian took a deep breath and glanced at me one more time before turning back and saying, “I’m a journalist, here to report
on the avalanche.”
I held up my media credentials for the officer to see. He blinked furiously, looking from my media pass to my face and back
again. Admittedly my clearance went a little bit higher than the Adelaide Gazette .