Page 16 of No Hope of Rescue

She’s found something.

It takes another five minutes or so to reach her, but she’s digging under a ledge. Probably a dead animal.

“Savi, no. Leave it,” I yell. The wind is so strong it tears the words from my mouth.

I reach down to take her collar.

There’s blood. I glance up to see the ropes dancing in the paling light straight above, buckling in the wind. Fuck.

Someone fell.

“Savi, find Brock,” I say in her ear. She looks at me with her puppy eyes. I repeat the command. Then I yell, “Go!”

She starts and does a play bow, tail up, and then sprints down the bank toward the first incline. Twice, she stops and digs in the snow.

Both times, pink surfaces. More blood.

Though my hands are warming, my stomach is filling with ice.

I remember there’s a trail for hikers that goes up the embankment. Savi spins twice, looks at me, and starts running toward the trailhead, then barks once before she disappears.

It’s nearly dark, and there’s no shelter. The torch on the snowmobile is only good for maybe another two more hours. Less in this heavy snow.

But I can’t leave. Not now.

Slowly, I follow her up the trail. It curves around on itself to the top of the escarpment.

When I get to the top, where the ground is flat, it takes a minute to find her. Again, the play bow, a bark, a twirl, and then a glance to make sure I’m following her. She’s onto something—I just hope it’s not a deer or a bear.

I try to stretch the balaclava to cover my face completely.

It’s just as I drop my hands that I see it—a long, low cylindrical cabin. It takes a moment for me to realize what it is—the fuselage of a small airplane. She runs toward it.

Savi’s no longer barking when she turns and waits for me at the entrance to the plane.

That’s why they climbed here. To get a better look.

They must be inside. They must have taken refuge in here when the smaller storm hit.

This is what I tell myself, though it doesn’t answer very many questions.

When I get to the door, she doesn’t want to go in. Whining, she pleads with me and sits just inside, looking at me as if she’s being punished.

Stepping inside, the immediate relief from the wind makes my ears ring. It’s pitch black, and the first things I see are the pilot and co-pilot seat, torn to shreds.

Little hairs on the back of my neck stand up. The vinyl, flapping in errant currents, looks raw. It’s violent. Something violent happened here.

I reach around and pull out a torch, swinging it over the inside of the cabin. Snow has drifted in, and it’s stained in places. I can’t tell if it’s dirt or blood. No one is here.

Brock and Codie must have waited here.

But why leave?

Savi whines again and steps inside, trembling. Her eyes look wild.

Again, those hairs on my arms rise. She’s on high alert. I glance at the overturned boxes. The cargo. There’s a large oilskin blanket at the end of the fuselage, covering even more crates.

None of this matters. I need to radio the rest of the team and tell them I’m okay for the night.