Blizzard: Colorado, 1886 (10 page)

Hadyn found himself staring at Maggie's knapsack
through the swirling snowflakes, his mouth watering. “Maggie?” She ignored him, and he said her name more loudly.

She turned. “Are you all right?”

“I'm so hungry that I feel—”

Maggie was shaking her head. “Not yet. The biscuits are for tonight.” Without another word, she went on.

Hadyn reached out and caught at her coattail. “I want to eat now.”

Maggie whirled around. “Do you think you'll be less hungry tonight? If you think so, I'll give you your share right now.”

Hadyn grabbed the front of her coat and jerked her sideways. She staggered, thrown off balance, staring at him, her eyes frightened. Hadyn felt his anger dissolve. “Sorry.”

She looked at him. “Let's just keep going.”

It kept snowing all day. Hadyn walked on numb feet, his legs heavy. When the sky began to darken, he thought it was going to snow even harder. Then he realized it was evening, and he knew they would have to spend another night in the deathly cold.

When Hadyn awakened, he was huddled inside the bedroll. The low overhang of rock that had sheltered them for the night was blackened from the smoke of their fire.

Maggie had already risen. For an instant, the sight of the campfire she had built back up lifted his spirits a little. But then he remembered that they had eaten the biscuits the night before—and that now they had nothing left. He sat up, his whole body stiff and sore. Even his thoughts seemed slow. Sleep seemed to tug at him, trying to pull him back down.

Maggie was looking at him, rubbing her hands together. There were dark hollows beneath her eyes and her skin was pale. “Come get warmed up.”

Hadyn nodded, but it took him a long time to make himself stand up. His shoes and socks were dry, but his feet were so cold they ached, even after he had gotten up to stand by the fire.

Maggie kept bending low, glancing out from beneath the overhang, staring at the sky. This close to sunrise it was obvious, even to Hadyn, which way was east—although the gray clouds covered the horizons, the sun was bright enough to shine through. Later, Hadyn knew, the sky would all be the same leaden gray, and it would be impossible to tell.

“Are you thirsty?”

Maggie's voice startled him. He looked up. She was holding out the canteen. He took a long drink of melted snow water, then watched as she stepped out from under the rocks to repack the canteen with clean snow.

“Are we going to freeze to death, Maggie?” Hadyn was startled by the sound of his own voice. It was thin and hoarse.

Maggie shook her head, then stopped and shrugged. “Not if we can find the road.” She stood up and pulled her coat tightly around herself, put the canteen inside her knapsack, and started off. Hadyn
rolled their bedding as fast as he could, then ducked out from beneath the rock.

Hadyn lost track of time again as he walked, heavy-footed, through the ever-deepening snow. This morning, the flakes were a little larger, sticky and wet. A drip went down the back of his neck from his scarf and he shrugged his coat higher.

When the rumbling began, they were trudging along just below timberline. Hadyn was puzzled by the sound. He stopped to listen.

“Snowslide,” Maggie said softly.

Hadyn glanced upslope, then stared at Maggie. “Should we run? Should we—?”

“Be quiet.” Maggie held up one hand. Her already pale face had gone white.

The roar was getting louder, Hadyn was sure of it. “Maggie? What do we do? Maggie?” He was shouting now, but still she didn't turn to look at him. An instant later, she grabbed his hand and pulled him into a run.

Blindly, unable at first to hear the roar over his own panicked breathing, Hadyn sprinted beside Maggie, moving slantwise across the slope. Nearly falling in the deep snow, he managed to keep going. She turned
to shout something at him and he realized that he couldn't hear her—the roaring had become too loud.

The sound of the slide encompassed everything. Hadyn fought to keep his feet, to keep going, sobbing in one ragged breath after another. Maggie let go of his hand and they separated, still running. Hadyn used every ounce of his strength to go faster, his fear erasing his weariness. He pounded over the snow, focused only on the ground ahead of himself as a roar louder than a hundred freight trains bore down on them.

The roaring swelled, shaking the ground beneath Maggie's feet, grating at her ears. She plunged sideways through a drift as high as her shoulders, then ran on, glancing sideways at Hadyn.

Suddenly, Maggie's right foot caught between two snow-hidden rocks and she sprawled forward, barely breaking her fall with her outstretched hands. She rolled, scrambling sideways, terrified. The roaring closed in as Maggie struggled to stand, spinning in a frantic circle, unsure which way she had been going. She spotted Hadyn and began to run again, but it was too late.

The snow underfoot seemed heavy, pulling at her like deep mud. With every step, it dragged at her, moving sickeningly beneath her feet. Maggie tried to run faster, but she faltered. The slide was like an undertow, tugging her relentlessly downward. The snow rose around her like a drowning flood. She heard Hadyn screaming her name. His voice was faint against the roar, then gone.

Maggie rolled and tumbled, shoved downhill by the slide. Flailing her arms desperately, she fought to find the surface through the smothering snow; it filled her eyes and mouth, her ears. It found its way inside her clothing, grating at her skin.

Maggie managed to gasp in a deep breath, then two, then found herself surrounded by the choking snow again. She fought for each breath, dizzied by the constant motion, bruised, terrified. The snow pressed against her. It seemed to go on forever.

Suddenly, the icy current seemed to tighten its hold on her. She struggled to make her way upward, but could not. She heard a resounding crack and felt a tremor. Then, there was only silence and darkness.

Maggie's right hand and arm were near her face. Her left arm was extended over her head. Her legs
had been entrapped just as she had been struggling to make her way upward—they were extended in a swimmer's kick.

Maggie's heart beat so heavily it ached. She could not move; she could not move at all. She wrenched her body from side to side, straining every muscle against the immutable weight of the snow. Exhausted, gasping at the stale air, she went limp—and realized that she had managed to make a small space around her head and face.

Trying to calm herself, Maggie labored to enlarge her tiny air pocket. The dirty snow packed under the pressure of her right arm, giving her enough room to work her hand free. She touched her face, wiping her eyes, clearing icy grit from her mouth. As she pulled her hand away, she realized that her only hope was to somehow dig upward to fresh air.

But which way was up?

Maggie clenched her fists, feeling dizzy. She imagined taking in a clean, fresh breath and began crying. Maybe she was close to the surface, but even if she was, she had very little time.

Maggie tried to stop crying, to think. She wiped awkwardly at her eyes. Then she held very still, her
whole being focused on following the tears' warm track across her cheek. Like water anywhere, her tears were flowing downward. That meant she had to dig in the opposite direction.

Hope bounding in her heart, Maggie began to wriggle around, trying to work her right hand free enough to scrape at the snow. At first she could move only two fingers, close to her face. It was so hard to breathe. Flexing her knees, she managed to lift one foot slightly, angling it as she set it back down. The sole of her shoe shaved a little snow loose. It fell beneath her foot as she lowered it.

Maybe, Maggie thought, if she could work a little more snow beneath her shoe with each try, she could gradually accumulate enough to raise herself upward—if she could somehow tunnel with her hands, too.

Maggie set to work, marching in tiny steps. With her right hand, she tried to dig at the slant she knew would take her to the surface. She had gained only a few inches when she had to stop, her breathing uneven and painful. Tears flooded her eyes again. It was impossible. She was going to suffocate.

Hadyn kept running. The roaring behind him got louder with every step. He glanced back, shouting at Maggie to keep running, amazed to see the snow boiling and swirling around her feet. Only a little ways behind him, she was trying to run across what looked like a white, rushing river. Doubled over, watching helplessly, Hadyn had time to pull in one rasping breath—then the snow beneath Maggie gave way and she was swept downhill.

Hadyn stared, turning. Maggie was screaming, fighting to stay upright. He dropped the bedroll without thinking, then ran downslope, parallel to the snowslide.

At first Hadyn could see Maggie clearly. Her face was contorted with fear, her posture rigid. Then she fell. The snow was moving deceptively fast, and Maggie was being carried along like a rag doll.

Hadyn kept running. Every time he stumbled, he scrambled to his feet, spotting Maggie almost instantly. She had sunk deeper. She was thrashing, twisting back and forth. Hadyn shouted her name as he ran, but he was pretty sure she couldn't hear him. The roar was deafening.

Toward the center of the slide, the current looked
swiftest and deepest. Hadyn saw big rocks pop to the surface, then disappear again. Where Maggie was, just at the edge, the current seemed slower. There was less rock and the snow looked cleaner.

The air above the slide was fogged with white dust. As he ran, desperate to keep Maggie in sight, Hadyn passed through clouds of this pulverized ice. It stung his face and hurt his lungs. Staggering, gasping for each breath, Hadyn refused to stop.

When Maggie sank out of sight, Hadyn screamed her name, his breath quick and harsh. Then the roaring dimmed. As the slide hit the far side of the little valley, it slammed to a halt, sending up a spire of ice powder. Hadyn felt the jolt of the impact in the ground beneath his feet. Then, everything was still and everything was silent. The falling snowflakes stuck to his cheeks and eyelashes.

Startled, Hadyn realized he was no longer moving. When had he stopped running? The sound of his own footsteps surprised him as he took off again, his eyes fixed on the spot where he had last seen Maggie. He breasted a deep drift, floundering for a moment before he caught his balance.

When Hadyn reached the place where Maggie
had disappeared he stopped. Bent forward, gasping in the thin air, he stared at the dirty gray snow. Here and there, tree branches and rocks jutted up at odd angles. Hadyn blinked. This was the place, he was sure of it. But exactly where should he start digging?

Hadyn stepped cautiously onto the dirty snow. It was hard, not loose. He stood, stunned. How could Maggie be alive? He scraped his boot on the gray powdered snow. Here? Or had he last seen her five feet uphill—or ten feet downhill? Hadyn's throat tightened. He would just have to trust himself.

He dropped to the ground and began digging. The snow was unbelievably hard. Looking around wildly, he spotted a stick. He ran to get it, leaving behind one glove to mark the place. Armed with the branch, he jammed his hand back into his glove and began to dig frantically.

His own sobbing breath made him stop. Hadyn sat back on his heels, despairing. It was still silent. Not even the birds were singing. He looked heavenward, letting the big flakes settle on his face. After a moment, he looked back down. A tiny scratching sound beside him made him twist around. He pressed his ear to the icy surface and heard it again.

Flinging the grayish snow in every direction, Hadyn dug madly. He jabbed the branch into the snow, loosening it, then scooped it out with both hands. He discarded his gloves after a minute or two. Throwing his weight behind the stick, he managed to enlarge the hole fairly quickly. Once it was about a foot deep, he stopped again to listen.

At first there was only silence, and his heart sank. Then the faint sound came again. As Hadyn watched, a tiny rivulet of snow fell from one side of his hole. And then another.