Buried Alive! (6 page)

“I…I don't understand,” Ashley stammered. Her hands gripped the sides of the sled like claws.

Jack didn't either. This man was either a real wacko, totally out of his mind, or else he was telling the truth and the three of them were in serious danger. He could no longer even see Denali's tip, which meant they had been heading in the wrong direction. They were going south now, close to a different mountain with a high face, the bald kind with no trees to mar its pristine whiteness. Chaz suddenly called out a firm, “Whoa!” When the dogs danced to a stop, he jumped on the brake and threw out a hook line. The dogs barked in protest, straining at their harnesses.

“I said ‘whoa!'” Chaz cried again. This time the team settled into a controlled agitation. Jack looked around wildly. They could run, but there was nowhere to run to. Only snow and the empty mountains.

“Now, here's the thing, kiddies,” Chaz said, turning on them with cold eyes. “I thought it would really be fun to take a little plane ride. Me and my dogs and you, Nicky. Hate to play favorites, but I can only take one.

My airplane's parked just a little farther on, right past that ridge there.”

“I'm not going anywhere with you,” Nicky answered quietly. A strange expression had etched across his face—half fear, half resignation.

“Take us back to Kantishna!” Jack demanded, wondering again if Chaz was playing some kind of sick joke. But Chaz ignored him. All his attention seemed focused on Nicky. Biting the finger of his right glove, he pulled it off, then found the tab of his parka and yanked it down, calmly placing the glove in his pocket. “Oh, you'll want to go on this ride with me, Nicky. Tell your friends to get out of the basket so we can take care of business. You know what this is about.”

The words seemed to hover in the cold air, and for a moment Jack didn't connect them until suddenly he understood. Chaz was kidnapping Nicky. He intended to take Nicky and leave Jack and Ashley in the frozen wilderness.

“Jack—Ashley—get out.” Chaz demanded harshly, not bothering to disguise the threat. “This isn't your business. It's between me and Nicky.”

“No!” Jack exploded. His heart was beating so wildly he thought his chest might blow apart. “We're staying right here in the sled—all of us. You've got to take us back to Kantishna. This is crazy, Chaz. You're not funny. Take us back!”

Like a dog showing its teeth, Chaz pulled back his lips threateningly. “Get that sister of yours and run along. Nicky has already cost me plenty.”

“Do what he says,” Nicky told them stiffly.

“But we'll freeze to death out here!”

Chaz gave a short bark of laughter. “That's what I'm counting on.” He slipped his hand into his parka and pulled out a silver, snub-nosed gun. Although Jack's brain felt thickened by images and words that didn't make sense, this he understood: Gun. Chaz had a gun, and it was pointed right at the base of Nicky's skull.

Ashley's hands flew to her mouth. “Chaz, no!”

Chaz looked down at Ashley, but his eyes held no emotion at all. He bit off every word as he said, “I'm going to tell you and your brother one more time. Get out of my sled.”

Jack sat frozen. What should he do? What could he do? All he could see was the gun.

Now Chaz spoke only to Nicky. “My boss says your daddy will cooperate once he hears your voice on the phone. You're the one I want. Tell them.”

“Ashley,” Nicky said hoarsely. “Get out of here.”

Neither one of them moved. Jack felt as if his brain had disconnected from his body.

“Are you two deaf?” Chaz demanded, waving his gun in the air. “Leave or I will shoot your friend right in the head.” His face contorted. “Now!” he screamed, so loud his voice echoed off the northern face of the mountain, the now, now, now, bouncing into the air until it disappeared like a dying note. Then shoving the muzzle in Nicky's neck, he cocked the gun.

Jack and Ashley scrambled out of the basket and stood woodenly in the snow. The color had drained from Nicky's face. “It's OK, Ashley,” he whispered. “Try to save yourself.”

“How noble!” Chaz pulled back the gun, leaned down, and with a quick jerk pulled up the snow hook and dropped it beside his feet. Resting the gun on the handle of the sled, he said, “You'll talk to your dad, and after that, who knows? It could be like what happened to my friend—remember that little story I told, Nicky? Well, guess what? This just might be your day to die.”

A
wind gusted up and scoured the riverbed, spinning a gauzy curtain of powdered snow that hit Jack full in the face. The coldness stung him, waking his senses, jump-starting his fear-frozen mind. He had to think, and he had to do it fast. The dogs barked furiously.

Ashley took a small step toward the sled.

“Stay where you are!” Chaz ordered. His arm spun around to aim the gun right at Ashley's chest. His eyes were deadly.

Jack could hear the quaver in his sister's voice as she asked, “Why are you doing this?”

Chaz just snickered. The gun dropped to his hip as he grabbed the snow hook.

“Don't leave us!” Ashley pleaded.

“It will look like a tragic accident. You two found frozen in the Denali wilderness, while Nicky's remains—lost. They'll figure the wild animals got him. And me? Oh, they'll never find me. I'll be long gone. I've got my plane parked at the Glen Creek airstrip. I'll put my basket and dogs and Nicky right inside, and then we'll be off. Me and Nicky are about to disappear.”

“But why?” Ashley demanded. “I don't understand!”

Chaz didn't answer. Instead, he snapped the hook beneath the runner. His right hand still clutched the gun, which once again hovered dangerously close to the back of Nicky's head. The sled pitched forward, but Chaz's fierce command of “whoa” once again held the dogs in check.

What could Jack do? Different scenarios flashed through his mind, considered for an instant and then discarded. He and Ashley could turn and try to run, but Chaz could pick them off like tin ducks in an arcade. They could stay where they stood, statues in the snow, yet standing still would make them perfect targets if Chaz decided to shoot. And what about Nicky?

He watched Nicky's hands grip the sled, saw his eyes widen with fear, his lips part slightly as he took several quick gulps of air. If Jack rushed the basket, it might give Nicky the chance to run, but for Jack it would be suicide. All of these thoughts fired through the neurons in his brain in rapid succession. No, there was no answer. They were trapped.

Sasha and Kenai quivered in their harnesses, anxious to go forward and yet compelled by Chaz to stay. “Whoa,” he commanded again as he stepped off the claw break. Jack knew that in a matter of seconds, Chaz, and Nicky, would be gone.

The yapping of the dogs echoed off of the sheer mountain wall. The dogs! They might be the answer. If Jack could spook the dogs—in his mind's eye he saw the sled heave forward, saw Chaz rock back and lose his balance to fall onto the frozen creek bed. If Jack could make that happen, in that split second they'd have a chance to escape. It could work. But how could he spook those dogs? His eyes snapped to the ground where he saw several broken branches with bleached-out needles, and next to them a crooked stick the size of a ruler. None of those could work. If he threw any one of them it would wobble weakly through the air. Out of the corner of his eye he saw a clutch of baseball-size rocks, each with a cap of glittering snow, nestled only inches from his right foot. A rock. Pitched right at the flank of the wheel dog, the rock could send them into chaos. But Jack wasn't sure of his aim. If he missed…. A shudder passed through him as he pictured the barrel of the nickel-plated gun. He couldn't miss. He would get one try, one gamble. There would be no second chances.

Chaz straddled the runners and gripped the handle bow with his left hand. In that split second Jack dipped his knees to grab the closest rock, jerking it hard to pull it out of the snow. His heart began beating so wildly he was afraid his ribs would shatter. At that moment Chaz turned and saw the rock in his hand. Instantly Jack took aim and with every fiber of strength in his body he heaved the rock, hitting the swing dog squarely in its flank. The dog's high-pitched squeal let him know he'd scored the mark.

“Run!” Jack screamed, to Ashley, to Nicky, to himself. “Run! Run! Run!”

It seemed as though everything happened at once; the wheel dog shot into the haunches of the team dog in front of him, and then the neck line, tug line, and gang line tangled as the sled surged ahead. Chaz's hand flew up as he lost his balance; a shot split the sky before the gun sailed end over end like the blades of a pinwheel, and then disappeared into a thicket of shrubs. Cursing, Chaz grabbed the handle bow to steady himself at the precise moment Nicky catapulted out of the basket and onto the ground, racing toward Jack and Ashley.

“Whoa!” Chaz stomped on the claw break and screamed again, “Whoa!”

“Hurry!” Jack screamed. He grabbed Ashley's hand and almost pulled her off her feet.

A few fist-size balls of snow skittered down the sheer mountain face like beads from a broken string, rolling across the creek bed before disappearing into the other bank. As the dogs barked wildly in a cacophony of sound, Jack realized Chaz barely had control of them. If he left the team to search for the gun, the dogs would streak away. He was caught in his own web. When Jack glanced back, Chaz was looking at him with such cold hate that Jack felt his blood turn to ice. He knew without a doubt that if Chaz had had the gun, he would have shot Jack right then and there.

Nicky sprinted toward them so fast his feet churned up divots of snow, and then he stopped in his tracks, pivoting to face Chaz. He was panting hard. “Get out of here!” he screamed. Slicing the air with his arm, he cried, “It's over. You can't take all three of us. Leave us alone!”

“You think you've won?” Chaz answered vehemently, still trying to steady himself on the sled. The sound from the dogs bounced up the face of the mountain, causing more snow to skitter down. Jack looked above him, at the smooth snow that glimmered like a sheet of glass.

A memory from scouting jarred him. Sound. Snow. Gunshot. Snow.

“I've got the dogs!” Chaz raged. “In a few hours it will be 20 below and your blood will freeze solid. You may have dodged a bullet, but Denali will do the rest.”

As if to affirm his words, a gust of wind danced around them, blowing yet another curtain of crystals through the wild emptiness.

“Get out of here!” Nicky screamed.

“You'll never make it.”

“I'll make it!” Nicky cried defiantly. “You tell them Nicky Milano won. You'll never find us again—not me, not my dad!”

Chaz let go of a stream of curse words, then released the claw break. Leaning forward, he shouted the command “Hike! Let's go!” The dogs jerked forward, slowed because of their tangled lines. Once again a funnel of snow swirled around them like the spirit of a whirlwind, licking at the back of Chaz's sled as he took off toward the east.

Just then Jack heard a crack like a tree splitting from frost, only a hundred times louder. It was coming from behind him, not in the direction of the retreating dog sled. His eyes flew to the mountain's peak.

More balls of snow skittered down like balls of yarn. Snow. Sound. Dogs barking. The crack of the gun. Each thought raced through his mind, faster than the tick of a watch. He knew. Instantly he grabbed Ashley's arm and pulled her toward the direction they'd come, but before he'd taken two steps, he knew he was too late. There was another crack and a rumble, as if thunder had broken through the clouds. But this was a deeper sound, louder and more frightening than any storm.

The first things he saw were the branches. Tips of spruce swayed in the arctic wind, but a flick of motion above the tree line drew his gaze past the smattering of trees, up to where the sheer mountain face touched the sky. An enormous plate of snow broke free, as if a giant knife had sliced off a piece of cake.

There was no time to move, no place to go even if he could. A tidal wave of snow, ten feet deep and as wide as the mountain, had come loose, roaring down the mountainside like a tsunami of crushed ice. The trees that stood in its path were broken like so many toothpicks.

In that brief second, Jack called out the only word that came to mind.

“Swim!” That was the last thing he said before the wall of snow hit him full force.

White. His world was suddenly pure white as his body got dragged down into a colorless ocean of snow. He tumbled in a cartwheel, righted himself, then felt himself clamped in a vise more powerful than he could comprehend. A tree snapped in half as it hit a rock, like a bone fractured clean through. He, and it, were helpless against the force of the avalanche. Nothing but white. Nothing but cold.

Snow filled his mouth, and for a terrifying moment he couldn't breath. Swim! The command came from somewhere deep inside. He had to keep his head up, or he would be buried forever in this grave. With his arms pumping, he struggled to ride the wave, always pushing toward the air, praying the rush of snow would stop and then, in what seemed forever but was only a few seconds, it was over. As he slowed to a stop Jack placed his hands over his face to create an air space. Still tumbling end over end, he finally quit moving.

Panic gripped him, and he fought to push it down. He couldn't let himself give in to the fear, couldn't use up the last second of oxygen in frantic digging that could send him deeper into the snow, couldn't allow himself to feel his own terror. He tried to move his hands—one was encased in snow over his head, the other, his right, still covered his face. He pushed it away from his eyes, moving it a few inches. This was crazy. There was no way to know which direction was up.

“Help,” he whispered. The sound was muffled in his own ears. Opening his lids, he saw nothing but gray-white, felt nothing but deep cold. Which way was up? What had happened to Ashley? Think! He commanded himself. Remember.

At a winter camp out for Eagle Scouts, he'd learned about how to survive an avalanche. Spit! That was it. In order to know which way was up, a person caught in an avalanche needed to spit and follow gravity. Pushing as much snow from his face as he could, Jack sucked against his tongue. When he let the saliva go, it dropped from his lips straight into the snow. OK, he told himself. Gravity says the earth is straight down. He pictured it in his mind, and realized that he was stretched out horizontally, as if he were flying over the earth like Superman. The air was above him. If he'd gone the way his instincts had told him, he would have tunneled himself straight ahead and smothered.

With all his strength, Jack pushed his right hand as far above him as he could reach. Clawing with his left, he tried to kick his feet. Up. He had to get up. Once again, he drove his hand up as far as he could, wrenching his body toward the sky. The wall of snow could have buried him ten feet under. If it had, he would die here. No! Keep pushing! He'd already propelled past his air pocket and snow was filling his mouth, blinding his eyes. He made another air pocket, stopped, caught his breath. Fear seized him. He could die here. No, he told himself. The biggest part of survival is mental. Don't panic—stay focused. Push, kick, move. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, he felt his fingers break free, and then he felt a hard yank that practically pulled his arm out of its socket. He sucked in a huge gulp of frozen air.

“Jack!” he heard his sister scream. “Jack! Hold on!”

Snow was clawed away from his head, and then Nicky clamped his hands under Jack's armpits and jerked him free from his tomb. His legs buckled beneath him. Jack rolled onto his back and took three long swallows of air, sweet and knife-sharp in his lungs. He felt Ashley's fingers on his face brushing the snow from his eyes.

In the background he heard the dogs barking wildly.

“Ashley—”

“I'm right here. Nicky pulled you free. We're all OK.”

“The dogs—”

“We think Chaz got caught in the avalanche,” Nicky said. “Serves him right.”

“No—I mean the dogs and the loud barking and the gunshot. I should've remembered sooner. Sound triggers an avalanche. I should have made us move. Should have made us. Are you sure you guys are OK?” Jack croaked.

“We're banged up, but man, we made it,” Nicky answered, brushing snow from his hair.

“What about you, Jack?” Ashley asked. Her voice quavered.

“I feel like I've been in a rock tumbler.” Gingerly, he moved to a sitting position, testing his limbs. Snow had been packed into every crevice, down his neck and into his boots. He was already freezing. “Whoa, my head is scrambled,” he moaned. Taking off his glove, he began pulling chunks of snow from his collar.

“I did what you said, Jack. I tried to swim—but—” Ashley's face suddenly contorted, and she began to cry great, heaving sobs. “I—didn't—know where you were and—”

“Don't cry, Ashley,” Jack told her. “I'm serious. You'll need the energy.”

Every inch of Ashley was covered with white, as though she'd been rolled in dough. Her knit cap was gone, as well as one glove, but she was alive and standing with Nicky's arm around her shoulders like a vise. That arm again! Nicky's hair stood from his head in snowy clumps, and his cheek had been scraped raw. Blood seeped out of the scrape and trickled down onto his parka in a thin, red ribbon. “Shhh,” he told Ashley in a hushed voice. “We're alive. That's all that matters.”

The dogs' barking became more urgent. Jack looked out at the field of white, its former glassy surface now mottled with chunks of snow. Broken branches, rocks, and tree trunks had been flung around like confetti on a sheet. They could have been killed. Easy.

Rolling to his knees, he stood and took a few wobbling steps in the dogs' direction. “We should help the dogs.”

“Yeah. At least some of them are alive,” Nicky agreed. “They're really howling—I bet they're still tied to the sled.”

“What about Chaz?” Jack asked.

“I thought of that. We'll look to see if he's digging up his dogs. If he is, we'll turn and go the other way. If not, we'll help the dogs. They don't deserve this.”

Jack shook his head to clear it. “No, that's not what I meant. If Chaz got buried in the avalanche, he's suffocating right now.”