I'm generally a novel person; my plots are always far too complex to make good short stories, and they're normally far too long. I somehow managed to successfully write this one. Opinions, please! Sunday night - Colorado
It began slowly at first. The pale flakes drifted leisurely down from the puffy white clouds, dancing and twisting through the air as though they had all the time in the world. Before the sun set, however, the flakes became larger, and larger still, until they were nearly fist-sized conglomerations. As night fell, they began to fall faster. Suddenly, they had somewhere to be, things to do. The strong wind picked up so violently that the flakes appeared to be blowing across a horizontal plane rather than straight down onto the already accumulating snow.
Blizzard warnings were issued for all of the northern counties in Colorado, and the residents braced for what was supposed to be the storm of the decade.
Monday morning
From the top of Mount Coventry, Jen Hartsell could see miles and miles of nothing. The icy landscape blended so seamlessly into the sky that she could not tell where one ended and the other began; there was only white. Far off to her right was Coventry's twin, Mount Alliance. Its stiff peak disappeared into the clouds, brushing the heavens with its height.
She sighed, the cold air stealing her breath and freezing her all the way to her core. Jen jammed her iPod headphones in her ears and pushed her ski poles into the deep snow. As she began her descent down the slope, her best friend Gabbi Rodriguez skied down after her. Jen's parents owned the ski lodge 'Something Borrowed, Something Blue,' the only lodge within a hundred miles of twin mountains Coventry and Alliance. The Twins were notorious for their avalanches, but had excellent ski slopes.
Despite the danger, 'Something Borrowed, Something Blue,' must have appealed to the thrill-seekers of the world; lodge reservations were made months in advance.
Gabbi and Jen had the job of checking the ski slopes after snowstorms; they made sure there hadn't been any avalanches and that no passages had closed up. Jen's brother, Nate, and his friend Elliott checked the cross-country ski trails for the same thing.
The wind whipped her scarf around her neck as she glided down the slope, weaving and slaloming around the pine trees that had taken root. She felt there was a certain magic about skiing; it always made her feel incredibly vulnerable when she went this fast downhill, but also incredibly alive. The cold air filled her lungs and she realized, with a smile, that this was the only kind of air she could ever breathe.
***
Near the base of Mount Alliance, Nate Hartsell and his friend Elliott Johansson were picking their way along the cross-country trails. It was one hell of a snowstorm last night, Nate thought to himself. The drifts, nearly as tall as he was, had buried all the small trees. So far, though, everything was looking strangely good saftey-wise. He was surprised that after a storm of this magnitude there hadn't been any avalanches. Perhaps it was only a matter of time.
Up ahead, he saw a downed tree; it went straight across the trail and was so wide he knew that there was no way he and Elliott could move it by themselves. The drifts were so high on either side, there was no way around it either.
Nate elbowed Elliott, skiing beside him, and wordlessly they both turned around to head back the way they had come. They had been friends so long that they were more like brothers, and when two people have that kind of friendship words are not required.
They'd have to bring Nate's dad's chainsaw out later to cut sections of the tree out of the way, but he wasn't sure if that would even be worth it. Depending on Gabbi and his sister Jen's reports on the downhill, maybe it'd be better to just close the trails altogether.
***
By now, Jen and Gabbi had nearly reached the bottom of Mount Coventry. The snow on the slope was getting thicker and more unpredictable; Jen found herself skiing slower and much more cautiously than usual. Gabbi wasn't nearly as strong a skier as Jen and was struggling to keep up with her; even though the snow was powdery, it was deep, and if she stayed in one place for too long, she felt her skis sinking. Suddenly, as though an invisible hand had reached out of the snow and grabbed her ski, she jerked to a stop and promptly fell on her face.
An incredible pain shot through her leg, and that was when she realized she wasn't going to be able to stand up on her own.
She raised her head, snow packed onto her eyebrows. "Jen!" she cried. "Jen! Wait!"
But Jen was going too fast, or her earmuffs were too thick, or her music was too loud, or Gabbi's voice was carried away with the wind, or any of a thousand other variables. Jen didn't even seem aware that Gabbi was no longer behind her.
Right about then, there was a deep vibration coming from the ground.
***
Mick Allen, the lead officer at the Northern Colorado Avalanche Patrol, had realized that this was the perfect disaster. The Avalanche Patrol had received twelve calls so far of people reporting avalanches and he'd already sent most of his men to check them out. He kept calling the local news and radio stations, but he couldn't get through. Somewhere, some lines had to be down; this was quickly spiraling into a catastrophe. Without avalanche reports, people were likely to go about their business as usual, but this could be fatal. He had no way of letting everyone know. It was times like these that he wished he'd been a firefighter instead.
***
Back at the lodge, Ramona Hartsell was attempting to watch the news and cook blueberry pancakes at the same time. She had never been a good multi-tasker, and ended up burning her little finger on the griddle. She silently cursed to herself, then turned to the sink beside her and ran her finger under cool water. As soon as the pain lessened, she turned back to the griddle, where, conveniently, all of her pancakes had burned. So far, this was a very crappy day. She dumped the burnt pancakes in the trash can and began to mix up another batch of batter.
The weathermen of the local news station were having a field day with last night's blizzard; they'd spent the past hour and a half discussing the pros and cons of putting chains on tires for driving in this weather. Ramona thought even considering this idea was ridiculous, since the snow was so deep one would be lucky to even find the roads.
What she really wanted to know - the reason she'd been watching the news - was if there had been any reports of avalanches yet at any other nearby peaks. She was sure so; Colorado didn't get this kind of snow without at least one or two. If there had been several, she had decided the night before that she would close the trails to skiers, regardless of whether or not the kids deemed it safe. When one is running a business, extreme precautions are necessary.
She trusted her kids and was sure they were fine, even in the current conditions. Granted, only Nate and Jen were her biological kids, but she considered Elliott and Gabbi to be hers as well.
With a small smile, she cracked an egg into the bowl of pancake batter. It was nearly time for breakfast; surely they'd be back soon with word on the trails. The news still hadn't had any avalanche reports, so perhaps the weather wasn't as bad as it appeared.
Ramona walked to the sink to throw the eggshell down the garbage disposal and to wash her hands. As she did so, she casually glanced out the window. She and her husband, Ryan, had moved to Colorado from Ohio twenty years ago, and she liked it here much more than she had the Midwest. There was just so much space. So much room to breathe. And, of course, the gorgeous mountains didn't hurt either. She looked to the Twin Peaks, and that was when she saw the massive wall of snow moving down Mount Coventry.
The eggshell she had still been holding slipped through her fingers and shattered on the tile floor.
***
As Jen reached the bottom of Coventry, she began to hum blissfully. Some people hated the winter, but not Jen. It was her favorite time of year. Who wouldn't enjoy the photogenic glittering icicles, the snowdrifts that sparkled in just the right light, the ice of the creek that was so clear that one would swear he or she was walking on water?
She loved the mountains, not just for their beauty, but for the irony behind their names. An 'alliance,' is a bond or connection, while a 'coventry' is a state of ostracism or exclusion. The two were like good twin and bad twin; they made her think of two people that were so close and similar they had nothing in common, sort of like her and Gabbi.
The downhill trail she was on had slowly turned into a cross-country trail; she was now skiing across the flat ground. Nate and Elliott must have already been here, she thought, with one look at their ski tracks that ran parallel to her own.
The ski conditions weren't exactly desirable. She knew that if any newbies went out on the trails, 'Something Borrowed, Something Blue,' might have a crisis on their hands if there was an accident. Murphy's Law - if something can go wrong, it will - pertained especially to skiing.
"Hey, Gabbi," she called over her shoulder, "what do you think? Should we close it or no?"
There was no answer. This was not altogether surprising; when downhill skiing, it was dangerous and next to impossible to ski side-by-side, so Jen and Gabbi rarely spoke while skiing, even once they'd hit flat ground. She repeated her question, but there was still no reply.
Jen furrowed her brow and glanced behind her, but saw no one. She slid to a stop and turned around. No Gabbi. Jen looked up at Coventry the way she had come, and although she still did not see Gabbi, she did see the one thing she had hoped she would not.
It looked almost like a cloud, barreling down the mountainside. She watched in horror as age-old trees were snapped in half like toothpicks, as the ski lift was buried. She had to move, she had to move, she had to move now if she wanted to get out of here. She knew this; but she couldn't bring herself to leave. At the same time, she couldn't bring herself to stay.
Where was Gabbi?
If she wasn't with Jen, there was only one place she could be.
Against her better judgment, Jen began skiing with all her might straight up the face of Mount Coventry.
***
It was Elliott who saw the avalanche first. He and Nate had been rounding the bend past Coventry on their way back to the lodge and had seen Jen not too far ahead, but Gabbi wasn't with her. Before they called her name, she had turned and gone right back up the slope the way she had come. They thought this was odd - why would she be doing that? - and then Elliott looked up at the mountain and saw it, racing down the mountainside and bearing down on them.
They had to stop Jen; surely no person in their right mind would ski towards an avalanche. As it was, their odds of getting away unharmed were not fantastic; they would have very slim chances if they went up the mountain.
Nate made the split-second decision to go the lodge for help - Jen was a better skier than he was, and he was unlikely to catch her, especially uphill.
Elliott started after him, but then wondered what good exactly that was doing. By the time they made it back to the lodge, the avalanche surely would have hit. He couldn't let Jen go after Gabbi by herself. He turned and went up the mountain.
***
Nate made the quarter-mile journey in under a minute - in any other circumstances, he would have been quite proud of himself. He was going so fast that he nearly ran into Ramona, who was pulling on her coat as she sprinted the way Nate had come.
With one look at him, she burst into tears. "Where are the others?" she cried, grabbing his shoulders and shaking him.
It was only then he noticed that Elliott was not behind him, and began to feel like maybe he should have stayed.
He could give Ramona no answer; he just stared at her, wide-eyed, and wondered when he was going to wake up from this nightmare.
***
Gabbi was sure she was going to die. She had heard the horror stories of people suffocating, even freezing to death, after being buried beneath an avalanche. Gabbi had tried to stand up many times, but she couldn't seem to move her right leg; she couldn't even feel it, and this scared her. She looked up then, and saw the orange of Jen's coat. An overwhelming happiness overtook her just before the avalanche did. Suddenly, she was tumbling, tumbling, down, down, down, and she was very cold.
***
Elliott could see Jen in front of him; she was skiing pretty damn fast uphill. He didn't think about how hard he was breathing, about how all the muscles in his body ached and were crying out for relief. All he thought about was that he had to catch Jen. He thought of her auburn hair, the color of a newly minted penny, and her eyes, the same turquoise as the sky on a cloudless day. He hoped he could get to both of them, unless it was too late - wait, no, he couldn't even bear to think it. That was what gave him the motivation to keep going.
***
When Jen saw the avalanche coming straight towards her, even though she'd expected it at some point, she couldn't help it - she stopped and screamed. She squinted her eyes shut, for she didn't want to see it as it hit her. Just then, a hand grabbed at her coat sleeve and began tugging her back down the hill. An angel? she thought deliriously, and looked up to see Elliott. Her last thought before the avalanche overtook them was how wonderful it was that he was putting himself in danger to save her.
Monday evening
The Avalanche Patrol had spent hours scouring Mount Coventry looking for the three missing teenagers. They had brought their search dogs, specially trained Huskies and Saint Bernards who took their jobs just as seriously as the Avalanche Patrol did.
Mick, one of the lead officers, was beginning to think this was hopeless. Most people were lucky if they survived for one hour buried beneath the avalanche's snow, let alone twelve.
His malamute, Harriet, looked up at him and whined. She was cold, he knew. They'd been out here searching for hours with no trace of the kids. Now he faced a tough decision: throw in the towel even though the teens could still be out there, or keep looking and keep his team suffering when there wasn't a great chance the teens were still alive.
Just then, Harriet held her nose up in the air as though she smelled something. She took off bolting through the snow, and if Mick hadn't had such a tight grip on the leash she would have gotten away from him. She continued to bound with her nose pressed to the ground. Mick began to feel a slight bit of optimism for the first time that day; she was smelling something!
Finally, Harriet came to a stop and began furiously digging. Mick got down on his knees beside her and shoveled away the top layer of snow with his gloved hands. He reached deep into the snowbank and felt something; Harriet was right! The kept digging until finally they had unearthed a hand. Around its wrist was a red and purple friendship bracelet that read 'Gabbi.' The hand was connected to a body buried farther beneath the snow, but with one look, Mick knew there was no way this person was alive. Her skin was, cold, hard, and sickeningly blue. Instead of continuing to dig, Mick turned around and threw up in a nearby bush.
He'd done this job many times before, but this one hit a little too close to home - he had a teenage daughter at home.
Harriet gave him a concerned look - he had always loved his dog for her expressive face - and sat down beside him. He waved over some of the other patrolmen and the EMT's to dig up the body; he thought he'd pass out if he did it himself.
He supposed he should give up. If one was dead, the other two probably were as well. Of course, he would hate to break the news to Ramona, she'd become hysterical and had to be sedated by the EMT's to be taken to the hospital for shock after he didn't find the kids in ten minutes.
Mick stood up, still feeling nauseous and queasy, and slowly picked his way down the slope. He was careful not to look in the direction of the hand. Harriett seemed reluctant to follow him; she was intelligent and very perceptive, and sensed her job here was incomplete.
He whistled to her, and her ears perked up, but instead of coming she sat down in the snow. When he pulled on the leash, she braced herself.
"Well find it, then!" he yelled, exasperated.
She seemed to smile at him, as if this was what she had wanted all along, and charged back up the mountain. This time, he decided, this time, if they found nothing, he was done.
Harriett seemed to have a path in mind, and about a hundred feet from where they'd found the hand, she stopped and began to dig once more. She was so energetic that this time, she barked in rhythm with her digging. Mick got down on his hands and knees again, helping alongside her, but bracing himself for another corpse.
Harriett found something before he did - a face. The person's eyes were fluttering, and with Mick's shout the EMT's came running over. They all managed to clear the snow off of Elliott and pull him free. He was unconscious, but he was alive.
Mick stood up, but Harriett kept digging in the area where they'd just found the teenage boy. He stared at her reluctantly and made no move to help her dig. She looked at him and barked, and when he did nothing, she barked again, then resumed digging.
He sighed and bent down to help her once more. It only took a second before they unearthed a hand. This person was alive, when Mick put his hand in Jen's, she squeezed back.
I'm thinking about cutting the 'Monday evening' part out and leaving it as a cliffhanger - what do you guys think?
NEEDS A BETTER ENDING!! AAAHHH!!!
I definitely wouldn't cut the last scene-- cliffhangers, I've found, don't work very well at the end of short stories, simply because they're usually to suspend interest until the next installment, and short stories don't have a next installment. So you'd just be causing your readers unnecessary worry and they'd probably be irritated that there was no resolution.
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