Chapter 5
5
D ays later, Capri pulled her Dodge D150 Adventurer ‘Lil Red Express into the parking lot at the base of Devil’s Staircase. The truck, gleaming in its signature red with chrome stacks, looked every bit as proud and polished as its owner. Capri cut the engine and hopped out, her boots crunching on the packed snow. Despite the crisp morning air, her breath puffed steadily as she moved to the trailer hitched behind the truck.
Bodhi was already there, tugging at the straps that held Capri’s snowmobile in place. His lanky frame was bundled up against the cold in a faded REI jacket and snow pants that had seen better days. “You weren’t kidding about babying this truck,” he said, casting an admiring glance at the Dodge. “It’s cleaner than my kitchen.”
Capri smirked. “Don’t go comparing my truck to whatever disaster zone you call a kitchen. This beauty deserves respect.” She climbed up to assist him, unhooking the straps with quick precision. Together, they eased the snowmobile down from the trailer. The sled gleamed as brightly as the truck, its polished surface reflecting the white expanse around them.
The parking lot buzzed with activity. Other racers were unloading their own sleds, laughing and joking as they prepared for the grueling backcountry race ahead. The rumble of engines echoed off the canyon walls, mixing with the occasional cheer or bark of a dog. Capri took it all in, her adrenaline already starting to hum.
She turned her gaze to the Devil’s Staircase trailhead, the course’s infamous starting point. The course loomed ahead, winding up a narrow path that seemed to claw its way toward the sky. From this vantage, it looked almost innocent, a gentle incline cushioned by freshly fallen snow. But Capri knew better. Just past that first deceptive stretch, the trail would rear up with a thousand-foot elevation gain over a single brutal mile.
The Devil’s Staircase was the kind of place that could break you if you weren’t careful. Nestled deep in Teton Canyon on the Idaho side of the mountain range, it was often overshadowed by the more famous Alaska Basin and Table Mountain trails. But what the Devil’s Staircase lacked in renown, it made up for in raw, untamed beauty. She could see the jagged edges of the canyon walls cutting sharply into the pale morning sky; their rugged lines softened slightly by snow. Somewhere up there, unique vistas waited, views she’d never forget if she could manage to reach them.
“You ready for this?” Bodhi asked, breaking into her thoughts.
Capri glanced at him, her dark eyes flashing with determination. “Born ready.”
He laughed, shaking his head. “You’re crazy, you know that? Racing Devil’s Staircase? Half these guys won’t even finish.”
“Then it’ll just make it that much sweeter when I do.” She pulled her helmet out of the cab and snapped it into place, her voice muffled but no less sure. “Let’s get this beast warmed up.”
Bodhi gave her a mock salute and stepped back as Capri straddled the snowmobile. The engine roared to life beneath her, a powerful sound that sent vibrations humming through her legs and chest. She gave it a quick rev, a grin spreading across her face.
This was her domain—challenging, unpredictable, and demanding her full focus. The kind of place where she could lose herself and find herself all at once. Capri tightened her grip on the handlebars, her pulse quickening as she stared up at the challenge ahead. Devil’s Staircase was waiting, and she couldn’t wait to meet it head-on.
As she maneuvered her snowmobile toward the line-up area, a flash of movement caught her eye. Turning her head, Capri saw Charlie Grace’s old pickup rumble into the lot, joining other spectators from town. The familiar sight of her friend’s truck made her pause, a smile tugging at her lips. In the cab, Capri could make out Lila and Reva squeezed in next to Charlie Grace, all bundled up in winter coats. After parking, they climbed out. When they spotted her, all three women waved enthusiastically, their gloved hands flapping like flags against the backdrop of the snowy canyon.
Capri waved back, feeling a warmth that had nothing to do with the engine’s heat. It meant something to see them here, braving the cold to support her. Despite their worry and dire warnings, they showed up. And that was enough to steady her nerves and bolster her confidence. With a nod to herself, Capri refocused on the race ahead. It was time to prove what she was made of.
Bodhi held up a handheld radio to his mouth, pointing to her helmet.
Capri nodded and switched on the radio receiver in her helmet.
“Go get ’em,” Bodhi urged with a wide grin. “You got this.”
She gave him a quick thumbs-up. Her pulse quickened with anticipation as she maneuvered to join the other racers at the starting gate, the roar of engines and smell of oil sharpening her focus. Her hands gripped the handlebars of her snowmobile tightly and waited.
The air was crisp and biting, the kind of cold that stung her cheeks and turned her breath into plumes of fog. Around her, the low rumble of engines filled the still morning, a growling prelude to the chaos about to erupt. To her left, a wiry man with a jagged scar across his cheek revved his engine, sneering in her direction. To her right, a teenager barely out of high school bounced in his seat, a nervous grin plastered on his face.
Ahead of them, the race marshal, bundled in a thick parka, climbed onto a small platform. He held a starter pistol aloft, its sleek black barrel gleaming under the weak winter sun. The racers tensed, their engines roaring louder, echoing through the valley like the rumble of distant thunder. Capri’s heart pounded in rhythm with the machine beneath her, the vibration coursing through her like an electric current.
“Racers, ready!” the marshal shouted into the microphone, his voice carrying over the din.
Capri shifted in her seat, her gloved fingers tightening their grip as she leaned forward, her entire body coiled like a spring. The world around her seemed to fade, narrowing to the path ahead.
The marshal pulled the trigger. A sharp crack split the air, and the blank discharged into the sky.
Twenty snowmobiles surged forward in a synchronized burst of power and fury, engines roaring in an earsplitting crescendo. The track beneath them was packed snow, groomed just enough to hold the weight of the machines. Red tape fluttered on stakes marking the initial half mile of the course. Capri tore down the straightaway, her snowmobile responding to every slight adjustment with precision.
Even through her helmet, the wind howled in her ears, and the roar of the machines was deafening. Adrenaline surged through her veins, her pulse a rapid staccato beat. This was what she lived for—the speed, the danger, the utter freedom of being in control of her own fate. She leaned into the handlebars, her eyes narrowing as she scanned the path ahead.
The red tape disappeared as the racers veered off the marked course and into the uncharted wilderness of Devil’s Staircase. The landscape morphed into a chaotic blur of jagged rocks, towering pines, and icy patches. Capri swerved sharply to avoid a low-hanging branch, cutting in front of another racer in the process. The man yelled something she couldn’t hear over the cacophony of engines, and she smirked beneath her helmet.
She powered through a steep incline, her snowmobile bucking beneath her as it climbed over uneven ground. The machine’s suspension groaned but held steady. Ahead, a jagged outcrop of rocks loomed, and Capri barely had time to react. She shifted her weight, the snowmobile’s skis lifting off the ground as she cleared the obstacle with a bone-jarring jolt. Her heart leapt into her throat, and she let out a whoop of exhilaration.
The path twisted sharply, forcing the racers to weave through a dense cluster of trees. Capri spotted a gap between two towering pines and aimed for it, her snowmobile barely squeezing through. A branch scraped against her shoulder, but she didn’t slow. Only yards away, the teenager from the starting line wasn’t so lucky. His snowmobile caught a hidden root, sending him sprawling into the snow. She didn’t look back.
The roar of engines reverberated through the mountains, mingling with the crunch of snow and the occasional shout from a racer. Capri’s focus was razor-sharp, her senses heightened. She spotted a narrow ridge ahead, a treacherous section of the course that required absolute precision. The edge dropped off into a deep ravine, and one wrong move could spell disaster.
She gunned the throttle, her snowmobile screaming in protest as she sped across the ridge. Snow sprayed in her wake, the powdery mist catching the sunlight like shards of glass. Ahead, the scar-faced man was gaining ground. Capri gritted her teeth and pushed harder, her machine vibrating as it hit its top speed.
The next section of the course was a series of brutal jumps, each one designed to test the racers’ skill and nerve. Capri approached the first jump, a natural ramp formed by a protruding rock. She leaned back slightly, lifting the snowmobile’s nose as she launched into the air. For a split second, she was weightless, the world below her a blur. She landed hard, the impact jarring her bones but failing to slow her momentum.
The second jump came fast, followed by a sharp turn that forced her to lean precariously to one side. The snowmobile’s treads bit into the ground, spraying a rooster tail of snow as she corrected her trajectory. Another racer tried to overtake her, but Capri veered sharply, cutting him off and forcing him to swerve into a bank of snow. She heard him curse loudly but didn’t spare him a second thought.
The path grew even steeper, the incline testing the limits of the snowmobiles’ engines. The sound of revving motors grew louder, echoing ominously off the surrounding peaks. Capri’s arms ached from the effort of steering, but she welcomed the burn. She relished the challenge, the competition, the raw, untamed energy of the race.
Ahead, a particularly sharp turn forced her to brake hard. The snowmobile’s treads skidded across the icy surface, and she felt the back end fishtail.
A curse escaped her lips as she adjusted her weight instinctively, righting the machine just in time to avoid a collision with a boulder. The near miss sent a fresh surge of adrenaline coursing through her.
Then she heard it—a deep, resonant rumble that wasn’t coming from the engines. It was distant at first, almost imperceptible, but it grew louder with each passing second. Capri’s stomach tightened as she realized what it was.
Instinct took over, and she slowed even further.
Like a distant growl of thunder, she heard it again—a low, deep rumble that didn’t belong. Her stomach tightened as the sound grew louder, rolling through the mountains with a force that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere.
The rumble wasn’t just noise. She felt it in her bones, a vibration that passed through the snowmobile and into the ground beneath her. Fear coiled tight in her chest as she glanced up the mountainside. The pristine slope quivered, like a predator ready to pounce. Fractures spiderwebbed across the surface, and with a chilling inevitability, the first wave of snow began to slide.
“Avalanche!” she screamed, her voice lost in the roar. Her fellow racers were oblivious, their machines still roaring ahead. She gritted her teeth, veering off the track, her only thought to escape the deadly cascade before it consumed them all.