Danger Guys on Ice (2 page)

“We fell,” I said. “About fifty feet. From there.” I pointed up at the lift. “I knew it would break, I just knew it!”

“Hey!” Zeek shouted. “My skis!”

I whirled around. His skis were starting to slide across the snow down toward the lodge.

“I'll get them,” I cried. I dug my poles deep into the snow. I leaped forward. My style was terrific.

Umph!
My skis didn't move. I fell on my face.

“Ski, Noodle! Ski!” Zeek yelled.

I tugged and tugged at my legs. They didn't budge. It was like I was glued to the snow.

Meanwhile Zeek's skis were zooming downhill as though an invisible skier was wearing them. They were really flying.

I tried to lift my legs again. “Aren't skis supposed to
slide
?” Finally, one ski pulled loose. Big clumps of snow were stuck to the bottom.

“You need to wax them up,” said Zeek in a kind of flat voice. “See mine?” He pointed to his skis, just vanishing over a distant ridge. “Mine are waxed great.”

“Oh,” I said. “I guess my dad did say something about
wax
, but I thought he said
snacks
, so I grabbed an ice cream bar.” I laughed a little.

Zeek didn't think it was too funny.

Then I had an idea. “Hey, since my skis don't slide too well, maybe we can make a signal.”

I took off my skis and formed an X in the snow with them. “This way, anybody looking for us will see them. My dad will be so proud I used his skis.”

“Yeah,” said Zeek, still staring at the spot where his own skis had disappeared. “That's the main thing. Come on, let's go.”

I took a step.
SLUP!
My right foot, with just a sock on it, plunged deep into the snow.

“My boot got untied in the fall,” I said, shivering. Zeek rolled his eyes while I pulled the boot from the snow, stuck my wet foot back in, and retied the laces.

We slowly started down the mountain, but we stopped at the top of a high ridge.

I looked over it. “The good news is, we can see the lodge.”

Zeek nodded. “The bad news is, we can't get there from here.”

He was right. Just below the ridge a deep chasm ran like a gash across the mountain. It was total ice all the way down, and so deep we couldn't see the bottom.

“I guess the snow buried the sign,” Zeek said.

“What sign?”

“The one that says ‘Pit of Death—This Way.'”

“Very funny,” I said. “Let's hit the trail.”

Zeek looked around and frowned. “What trail?”

I smiled. “The one
you're
going to make and
I'm
going to follow.”

“Oh,” he said. “That trail.”

We started back up around the ravine. It took us a long time, plowing through the deep snow. An icy wind bit into our faces.

“It's getting colder,” Zeek said.

“At least it's not snowing.”

That instant, a tiny snowflake fluttered down and landed on the tip of my nose.

“Never mind,” I said.

Two minutes later we were in the fiercest blizzard this side of the Ice Age. The air was white with huge flakes. The temperature zoomed down. Snow was freezing on my eyelashes. I didn't like it.

Rrrrrrr!
Something rumbled.

I didn't like that, either.

Zeek turned. “Not that old stomach joke, Noodle? You see the lodge and you think log cabin and then you think maple syrup, and then you think waffles. And of course when
you
think waffles, your
stomach
thinks waffles and—”

RRRRRRRRR!
The ground quaked, and the air roared all around us.

“Um … that's not me, Zeek,” I said. “Really.”

The sound was coming from behind us. It was deep and booming, like a thousand bulldozers starting up. Or a stampede of cattle.

But I knew it wasn't bulldozers or cattle. They don't have those in the mountains.

They have something else in the mountains.

“SNOW!” I screamed.

“SNOW COMING FAST!” Zeek screamed.

“AVALANCHE!” we both screamed.

THREE

WHOOM!

A huge wall of white thundered down at us. It swallowed everything in its path. I watched it plow over my dad's old skis, toss them high in the air, and roar closer and closer.

“Noodle!” yelled Zeek. “We're doomed!”

Zeek was waiting for my brilliant plan to save us.
I
was waiting for my brilliant plan to save us.

Wump-wump-wump!
The avalanche charged at us. Zeek was waiting. I was waiting.

“You're right,” I cried. “We're doomed!”

Suddenly—
Thwank! Thwank!

Two warped brown boards plunked down in the snow just inches away.

“Your skis!” cried Zeek.

My brain worked lightning fast. “Surf's up!” I yelled. In a flash we each jumped on a ski. Good thing my dad's old skis were so wide!

WHO-OOM!
The wall of snow broke and crashed behind us, scooped us up, and sent us surfing down the mountainside.

Snow was still sticking to the skis, but the avalanche was pushing us so hard, even those ancient boards took off!

“Goin' for the gold!” Zeek yelled out.

We curled over and under the waves of snow like Olympic snow surfers!

“New category!” I shouted. It was incredible. We were really moving.

I figured at the rate we were going we'd be down the mountain in no time. I figured we'd end up right at the lodge, leap off the skis, and dig into some birthday cake. I figured—

I figured wrong.

Just ahead was something familiar. A long shadow in the snow. The avalanche was pushing us straight for it. What
was
that thing …?

“The Pit of Death!” Zeek cried.

My life flashed before my eyes—again. In three seconds I got from the hospital where I was born to the Pit of Death, where I would probably die.

Ka-Voom!
The snow picked us up, and we went flying over the Pit.

My dad's skis kept going, hit the far side of the chasm, and soared high up in the air.

Zeek and I dropped straight down.

“Ahhhhhh!” we screamed as we plummeted deep into the Pit of Death!

We would have screamed the whole way down, except about halfway there—
SPLAT! SPLAT!
—we crashed on a ledge.

“Ohhh!” I groaned. “Smushed again!”

I lay there in a heap for a while.

When my mashed-up brain could think again, I sat up and turned to Zeek. “Are you alive?”

“No.” He sat up, dusted the snow off, and wiggled his legs. “Well, maybe I'm alive, but I'm definitely shorter than I used to be.”

I looked around. The ledge led into an icy cave a few feet deep. On the back wall was an opening in the rocks about the size of a small pizza.

The cave floor was covered with a thin coating of snow that had drifted in from the chasm. Beneath that snow was total ice. I know. I slipped about a hundred times getting to my feet.

Then I saw it. Something on the wall just above the pizza hole. I slid closer to see.

It was a drawing. An old drawing. Right on the cave wall.

“Zeek, look at this. It's … a cave drawing! Do you know what this is?”

“A drawing some person did in a cave?”

“No, a drawing some
cave person
did in a cave! I've seen pictures like this in art books. Holy cow, there are … ten figures here! Boy, they're big! Cavemen, I bet. And these things are their clubs. Big clubs. Big hair, too. Very hairy.”

“All right, let me see.” Zeek slid over. He studied the drawing. “What's with this big guy's feet? They're really long.” He pointed to two things coming out from one of the caveman's legs.

I thought for a second. “He's got skis on!”

“The ones your dad gave you?”

I made a face. “If only we could get back to the lodge and tell everybody—”

“The lodge!” cried Zeek. “I'm missing my party!” He slumped on the floor. “At this very moment, Emily is probably eating all my cake. She loves cake like you love waffles.”

I felt sorry for Zeek. Then I had a brilliant idea. I stooped down and started pushing some snow into a pile on the floor.

“What are you doing?”

“Making a snow cake. For the birthday boy!” Zeek laughed. We both slid around the floor and pushed more snow into a pile.

Suddenly, we stopped. We looked at the icy floor. We looked
into
the icy floor.

“Zeek?” I whispered. “I think there's something under the ice here.”

We stood up to look at the dark shape.

Zeek shuddered and backed away. “It's a bear,” he whispered. “A huge bear!”

“Zeek…” I said.

“Noodle, don't even say it. It's a bear, okay?”

I just pointed down at the ice. “Bears have fur, Zeek. That's not fur. It's—”

“Don't say it!”

“Zeek, it's a … a … beard!”

FOUR

Zeek backed up and hit the wall behind him. “Oh, man! Of all the caves in this mountain, we had to fall into the one with the frozen dead guy!”

I brushed away the snow to get a better look at the shape. It was a guy, all right. But not just any guy. Big jaw. Big teeth. Big club. Big hair.

“Zeek!” I cried. “This is a cave guy! In fact, I bet this is one of the cave guys in that drawing. The really big one with the club. This is incredible! A real live cave guy—except that he's dead, of course.”

“Maybe he's not dead,” Zeek said, leaning over the shape.

I stopped brushing the ice. “No way.”

“It could happen,” Zeek said. “I saw this movie once—”

Uh-oh. Red alert. When Zeek goes into a panic, he always talks about some totally impossible movie thing as if it could really happen.

Also, his voice gets funny—kind of high and squeaky.

“It was about a huge fly trapped in the ice—”

“Zeek,” I said, “this caveman's been frozen for probably fifty thousand years.”

“So was this fly! And then some crazy scientist unfreezes it and trains it to attack and—”

Zeek was getting totally carried away. I had to go into my teacher voice, quick. I do that when Zeek gets a nutty idea into his head and it takes over. Sometimes, it's the only thing that works.

“Now, now, Zeek,” I said, talking like our teacher, Mr. Strunk. “The caveman is not really alive, you know? I'm sure there's a perfectly normal explanation—”

“Normal?” he squeaked. “You think any of this is
normal
?”

Red alert, level two. The squeaky voice.

“Zeek Pilinsky, take your seat.”

“Look, Noodle, the ski lift breaks, I lose my skis, an avalanche nearly kills us, you lose your skis, we get pushed off a cliff, we fall almost to the center of the earth, but—oh, great!—we get mushed flat on a ledge instead, and then we discover a fifty-million-year-old dead guy who at any moment could get up and—”

“Fifty thousand,” I said.

“What?” he squeaked.

“Fifty-thousand-year-old dead guy, not fifty-million-year-old dead guy.”

“It's the DEAD GUY part I don't like!—”

RRRR.
The cave started to rumble around us.

“What was that?” Zeek's eyes got wide. The rumbling got closer.

“Noodle, I don't like this. The ice on that guy is not all that thick. Any second it could just—”

KKRRRREEEEEEKKKKKK!

A narrow crack split the ice right over the caveman's face.

“HE'S ALIVE!” Zeek screamed. “JUST LIKE THAT FROZEN FLY!”

The ice crackled across the cave floor.

The walls shook. Icicles and rocks crashed down from above.

“Cave-in!” I shouted. “Let's get out of here!”

“Great plan,” Zeek cried. “Where?”

He had a point. On one side of us was the Pit of Death. On the other was the pizza-sized hole in the wall.