Page 10 of Double Exposure

Ryan looks at me. “Sure, yeah.” Quickly digging another hole, he finds her booted feet.

“I’m going to have to carry you out of here, okay?” I say, my voice in her ear again. I wish she could see my face better.

“This is s-s-s-o embarrass-s-s-sing,” she says, her teeth chattering. Her eyes, light brown, grow heavy with tears in profile.

“Look, you're fine. You're going to be fine.”

“I think she’s clear,” Ryan says, sitting back on his haunches after another few seconds of clearing snow. “I dug all around her boots.”

Tremors run through her body. Her body quivers even through the protective gear she has on. Her goggles are still on top of her head. I pull them off and hand them to Ryan.

“Ready?”

She nods. I start pulling again, feeing for a moment of resistance when I might have to stop again. Then it comes, a snag, and another hiss from her as I yank her free of her vertical tomb, lifting her straight up. A fine spray of ice and snow rush off her coat and snow pants. Her pack is still strapped to her back. Setting her down near the rock, Ryan holds her shoulders while I release the belts around her waist and chest. Ryan helps lift the pack from her shoulders. Once free, I lean her the other direction against the wall of snow that had entombed her.

“My ankle,” she gasps. A rush of snow not thirty feet away rolls down the mountain like a wave.

“We need to get out of here,” says Ryan with a nod to the crest above.

The storm thrashes and flakes pelt from all directions. The wind is loud, roaring through pines.

I have to raise my voice again and lean right into her face. “I can't ski down the mountain with you. I'm going to have to carry you. There’re patches of ice everywhere. You good to go?”

She nods and juts a thumb into the air. I squat and pick her up in a cradle carry. She’s too wiped out to care right now, but something tells me she’s going to be humiliated later.

First, we need to get off this mountain.

“Isn’t Jacob Bourne’s old place just west of here?”

Ryan nods.

We’re going to have to break in.

΅

It’s slow going, trekking down the face in what is now almost blinding snow. When we land at the base of the mountain and enter the woods, Ryan shoulders my pack, her pack and her skis. Then we shift her to my back. Her grip is not strong around my shoulders and every ten steps or so, I have to adjust, scoot her back into position and continue on. Hypothermia leaves you confused, uncoordinated, and with slurred speech.

She’s exhibiting all three.

Her forehead presses against the back of my neck and every now and then Ryan pats her on the shoulder. Then his gaze meets mine for a check-in. Just reading his face tells me we need to get her out of this cold faster than we’re moving.

I try to pick up my pace but I have to be gentle—the last thing I want is for her to slip off or fall backwards.

We hit an old logging trail after a few dozen yards.

I hitch her up again. Bourne’s cabin is a good two miles more from here.

Ryan lets this slip almost as soon as we set off down the trail through heavy pines.

“I’m moving ahead, boss and get a fire going. I know where it is. You follow my tracks.” Taking all the packs and the two sets of skis, he’s off, a shadowy figure on the abandoned logging trail. I’ll follow two thin ski tracks to the cabin, hoping they don’t fill in the time it takes us to join him. The clouds are so heavy, it feels like evening. I can only hope it stays light enough to see those tracks. And that they don’t fill with fresh snow.

“This isso ‘barrassing,” is all I hear her say again, after Ryan disappears into the woods. Her voice is muffled against my collar. Her pat on my shoulder is sloppy with exhaustion. “Isso sorry.”

“You just hang on. Don’t pass out on me.”

΅

The first thing I smell is the wild smell of woodsmoke.