“Protein bars,” Remi said as the three trudged through the snow back to the plane. “Hardly a consolation.”
“They’re gourmet protein bars. The label says so.”
“Keep telling yourself that, Fargo.”
“I’ll phone Nando and let him know we’re probably not making it to dinner.” They stopped at the nose of the aircraft. When he tried to make the call, nothing happened. “You two wait in the plane. I’ve got to move out farther. Something’s blocking the line of sight.” What, he wasn’t sure. Possibly the two mountain peaks they were standing between or interference from the storm.
Remi hesitated. Sam reassured her he wasn’t about to wander that far from the plane. Not in this weather.
When Dietrich took Remi’s arm, helping her up through the door, Sam worked his way down the mountain until his phone was able to pick up a satellite signal and he could successfully call Nando.
“I can barely hear you, Mr. Fargo. We were worried when it got dark and you weren’t back.”
“‘We’?”
“Julio called. His wife had the baby. He was sending his brother. I assumed he was on his way to get you. He didn’t make it there?”
“Not yet,” Sam said, shouting over the wind. “We’re taking shelter in the downed plane. Call Julio’s brother. Tell him to come back in the morning when it’s clear.”
“If it’s clear,” Nando said. “The weather report isn’t looking good. You’re sure you’ll be okay?”
“We’ll be fine.”
Sam pocketed his phone, then climbed back up to the plane, keeping his head down against the wind, which was even stronger now than it had been just a few minutes ago.
Remi watched him from the doorway, the flashlight turned on to light his way. “Did you reach anyone?”
“Nando,” he said, pulling himself into the fuselage. He and Dietrich pushed the door closed, the wind whistling through the crack. “On the good news front, Julio’s wife had the baby.”
“That explains why he’s not here. He—”
Sam held up his hand. “Hear that?”
“Thunder?” Remi asked.
“I think our ride’s here.”
They pulled open the door, the three running out toward the front of the plane. A tiny speck in the sky just over the pass was almost hidden in the s
now flurries, the sound of the rotors barely audible over the wailing wind.
With gloved hands, they shielded their eyes against the spotlights as the helicopter swept overhead. It suddenly swung back on a course directly toward them, the pilot struggling to control the craft against the ever-stronger wind.
It rose sharply for a few moments, fighting a losing battle with the gale. The rotors blasted the frigid darkness. Then, barely in the air, the nearly uncontrolled helicopter pounded the driving snow, magnifying the thunder, on the ridge and steep side of the mountain.
Suddenly, there was an unbearable roar that swept down the deeply blanketed slope that engulfed the helicopter. It became lost under a white storm of ice and vanished.
The three stared in shock as the ice-packed snow beneath their snowshoes began to pulsate, and Sam realized it wasn’t thunder at all.
“Run!” he yelled. “To the plane!”
82
Avalanche!”
Bits of snow and ice rained down on them. Remi ran without question. Dietrich froze, his attention fixed on the wall of snow slipping down the mountainside.
“Hurry!” Sam shouted. He followed Remi under the wing, Dietrich coming to his senses, following right behind them. The noise grew louder as ice chunks pelted the fuselage. Snow slid in from both sides as Sam shoved open the door.