The Drop (4 page)

Hope looked into the murky depths of her stew.

“Would it?” Sam yelled.

“No.”

“No. Exactly. So, if you can't do it, then don't. We'll get a chopper here for you. But if you want to be in Backcountry Patrol, then say you
can
do it. And go out there in the morning and do it.” Sam banged the chair on the floor one last time, then stormed off into the bathroom.

“Wow,” Dave said. “What was that all about?”

Hope looked like she was about to cry. I felt badly for her. Sam really seemed to have gone off the deep end for no reason.

She folded her napkin, picked up her half-eaten bowl of stew and dumped the remains into the garbage. Then she rinsed the bowl, set the spoon in the sink and went over to where her stuff was piled on the floor. We all watched her without saying a word. She pulled an iPod out of the bag, plugged the earbuds into her ears, climbed into a bright pink sleeping bag and turned her back to us.

“He's right, you know,” Dave said in a quiet tone. “If you can't carry a dummy down the mountain, you're pretty much useless out here.”

“He could have been a little kinder about it though,” Bryce said.

“Why? If she can't do it, she can't do it. Better to get her out of here.” Dave shook his head and jammed another spoonful of stew into his mouth. “What do you think, Alex?”

I took my jacket off and hung it on the back of the empty chair. I knew why Dave wanted Hope gone. It increased his chances of getting into Backcountry Patrol.

“I think…tomorrow, it's going to suck to be any of you,” I said.

Dave looked angry, but Bryce started to laugh.

“Now, where's the rest of that stew?” I said. “I'm starving.”

We finished eating and sat around the woodstove, talking. Sam came out of the bathroom and sat staring at the flames through the stove's glass front. Eventually we all got into our sleeping bags for the night. When everyone was lying down reading or listening to music, Sam went outside and came back smelling of alcohol. I'd seen him pull the little silver flask out of an inside pocket a few times during the past week. I didn't like the idea that Sam, our only link to civilization, was drinking. But what could I do?

“Someone has to feed the woodstove in the night,” Sam said. “Alex has been through enough today. Dave helped me make dinner. So it's up to you, Bryce.”

Bryce was on his bunk in his thermal wear, turning the wheel on his iPod.

“Okay.”

“Set your alarm. By three am the fire will be down to nothing. Get up, put four logs in, make sure they catch and then go back to bed.”

“Okay.”

“If the fire goes out, we will freeze. You understand that, right?”

“Yeah.”

There were two oil lanterns lighting the room. One sat on the dining table and another hung from a rafter. Sam shut the door of the woodstove and then flicked the two lanterns off. The glow from our iPod screens was the only light in the room.

“Good night,” Sam said. I plugged my earbuds in and settled on the song that had been stuck in my head all day long: Crowbar's “Oh, What a Feeling.” It was old and corny, and people would probably make fun of me for listening to it. But it explained exactly how snowboarding made me feel.

I listened to it five times in a row before I fell asleep with the music still humming in my ears.

I woke once in the night to some banging. I opened my eyes. Everything was hazy. By the dim glow of the woodstove I could make out Bryce, wrapped in a blanket, staring into the depths of the flickering fire. I was going to say something, but I was too tired. I went back to sleep and dreamed about endless powder and peaks that tore holes in the sky.

chapter six

I woke up freezing. The room was still dark. I checked my watch: 6:00 am. I rolled over and squinted into the dimness. Sam was trying to coax the fire back to life. He put a piece of paper onto a log and began blowing.

“Why is it so cold?” I said. Sam turned and looked at me. Even in the dim light, I could tell his eyes were bloodshot.

“Bryce didn't put enough logs on the fire last night,” he replied. I looked over at Bryce's bunk. There was a lump there, but I couldn't see his head sticking out the top. Dave's tuque-covered head poked out of the top of his sleeping bag. I leaned over and looked down on Hope's bunk. It was a mess of pink. Sleeping bag, tuque, even the blanket. Our bags had been brought in by snowmobile the day before. We'd been told to pack as lightly as possible. I had a feeling that Hope hadn't listened to that advice. Her bag was huge. I have no idea what she'd stuffed in there, but it looked heavy, and she groaned every time she picked it up.

I swung myself out over the edge of the bunk and landed firmly on the ground. As I passed Bryce's sleeping bag, I punched the area where I figured his legs would be.

My fist went deep into nothing. I yanked the sleeping bag back and discovered that the lump was actually Keith Richards. “Sam, Bryce isn't here.”

“What?” Sam leaned away from the stove and looked at me.

“He's not here. He's gone.” A wicked wind howled outside, banging against the window and shaking the door.

“Where is he?” Sam said.

“I don't know,” I replied. The bathroom door was closed. “Maybe he's in the bathroom.”

I went over and knocked on the door. There was no answer, so I opened it and looked inside. It was a simple bathroom. Simple and empty. “He's not in here,” I said.

“What?” Dave's sleepy voice came from across the room.

“Bryce is gone,” I said.

“What? Where would he go?” Dave jumped out of bed.

“I don't know,” I said.

Sam held his hands up, palms out, and said, “He likely went out to get a run in.”

Dave's eyes went wide, and his voice was little more than a whisper. “It's still dark out. Where would he go? And what would he do when he got to the bottom of the run?”

Sam crossed the room and opened the door. Snow blew in, making a thin white blanket on the floor. He stuck his head out and looked left and right. Then he came back in and closed the door.

“His snowboard's here.”

“What about the snowmobiles?” Two snowmobiles had been left for us to use during our training.

“Yeah,” Sam said. “Still here. Both of them.”

“So where did he go?” Dave yelled. “He couldn't just disappear!”

“Calm down,” Sam said. “Let's all just calm down. I'm sure there's an explanation. I mean, people don't just disappear, right?”

“Who disappeared?” Hope's voice came from deep inside her sleeping bag.

“Bryce is gone,” Dave replied. “Vanished.”

“When I was over at the drop,” I said, “there was…a sound. Like people moaning. Moaning and crying.”

“You went near the drop?” Dave said.

“I got kicked out of the woods and ended up right next to it.”

“So what are you saying?” Dave asked. He had taken his tuque off and his red hair stuck up on his head like flames “That something came and dragged him down there?”

“No. I mean…No, that's stupid.”

“Exactly,” Sam said. “Come on, Alex. What are you trying to do? Scare everybody? The wind always sounds like that at the drop.” He reached up and lit the lantern over his head. The room suddenly filled with light.

“I don't know,” I said. “I don't know. Where could he have gone? Are there footprints or anything?”

“No. Nothing.” Sam pointed at the door. “It's a blizzard out there.”

“We have to call someone,” Dave yelled. He charged around the room, taking quick little steps. Sam grabbed him by the shoulders and held him steady.

“Dave, my man, I need you to calm down. All right? You hear me?”

Dave started shaking his head. “Where could he have gone?” Dave said. “No snowmobile. No board. How deep is the snow out there? Why would he go anywhere?”

“Maybe he felt badly about not putting enough logs in the stove,” Hope suggested. “Maybe he's, like, I don't know, punishing himself?”

“That's stupid,” Dave said. He had grabbed his jacket off the end of his bunk and put it on. Now, whenever he moved his arms, he made swishing sounds. It would have been funny in some other situation.

Sam went back to the woodstove and began blowing again. The room wasn't getting any warmer. I used the bathroom and then came back out and put on my jacket and snow pants. Sam had the satellite phone out and was waiting for it to find a signal.

“I'll call base camp,” Sam said. “They can send a chopper up to help find him.”

He seemed relieved at the possibility of getting help. He pressed the button on the phone again, waited and then pressed it again. He put the phone to his ear.

“What's going on?” Dave asked.

“It's not connecting,” Sam replied.

This was bad.

We were a long way from anywhere, or anyone. Even if we made it to the bottom of the mountain, we were still a long way from any roads or towns. Without the satellite phone, we were on our own in the wild.

“There's a pickup spot though, right?” I said.

Sam shook his head. “It was to be arranged.”

“Okay,” I said. “But people know we are here. They know when we're supposed to get picked up, right?”

Sam shrugged. “I don't like to nail down the details. It's too much planning. Too many variables. I said three or four days. Everything depends on the weather.”

“What about food?” Dave yelped. “How much food do we have?”

“Lots,” Sam said. “Especially now that Bryce is gone.” He laughed. No one else did. I went and looked out the window. It was pitch-dark.

Dave started laughing. We all looked at him. Red hair straight up in the air. Hands on his knees. Laughing.

“What?” I said.

“What?” Sam said.

“What are you laughing at?” Hope said. Dave shook his head. “It's a test, isn't it?” Sam raised an eyebrow. “We have to go out there now and find Bryce. You've got him stashed in another hut somewhere nearby. He's fine. Just hidden. Another test, that's all.”

“I wish that were the case, but it isn't,” Sam said.

Dave's face fell. “So you really don't know where he is?”

“Not a clue.”

“This isn't all a setup?” Dave said.

“No setup.”

“Let me see the phone,” Dave grabbed the phone out of Sam's hand and started pounding the power button.

“This isn't working,” Dave said.

“That's what I told you,” Sam said.

Dave sat down in a chair. “We're screwed,” he said. “Screwed.”

chapter seven

We couldn't do anything that morning. The storm was so wild, we could barely open the door, never mind step out. But then around noon, the clouds broke apart and the world suddenly seemed clear and pure. Nothing but deep white powder and high blue skies.

I stood at the doorway looking up at the sky. Our boards were covered in snow. I pulled mine out and brushed it off.

“Where are you going?” Hope asked.

“I don't know.” I looked at the endless hills and trees around us. “He has to be out here somewhere. He couldn't just vanish.”

“So, what? You're going to ride to the bottom of the mountain? Get help? Save everyone?” she said.

I looked behind Hope into the cabin. Dave was jabbing the buttons on the satellite phone, and Sam was standing over him, looking expectantly at the screen.

“I don't know what I'm going to do,” I said. “But I've got to do something.”

Hope disappeared from the doorway and came back a minute later in her jacket and snow pants.

“Well, a board is going to be useless here,” she said.

“We can take the snowmobiles,” I said. I had only ever ridden on the back of a snowmobile. The idea of starting one up and driving it was a little frightening. I was superaware that a fall could have me tumbling and rolling down three hundred feet. With a big machine on top of me.

“Wherever Bryce went, he went on foot.” I said. “His board is here. The snowmobiles are here. So he couldn't have gone far.”

I looked at the empty landscape. The cabin was on a flat space. It was steep above and below.

Dave suddenly appeared at the doorway. “What are you guys doing?”

“We're going to go find Bryce,” Hope said. The keys were in the snowmobiles. She brushed the snow off the seat of one of them, sat down and turned the key. The snowmobile roared to life. Hope unhooked a helmet from the handlebar and pulled it over her tuque.