One Deadly Night

Six

In the faint moonlight, Jon followed the tracks to the spot where they ventured off and onto another trail. One that was used mainly by cross country skiers.

He continued until the tracks veered off again this time into the trees and bushes.

Why the heck would the man lead his granddaughter this way? There was a far better way to get to the Beaumont Fall – and safer.

The snow was deeper here as with each step, he sunk in to near his knee.

Jon realized then that the tracks had completely vanished.

The snow here was new but this didn't come from the usual snowfall.

A few steps later, he came face to face with a tall mound of snow.

He cursed under his breath.

Avalanche! How the heck was he to find them in this mess?

He pointed the flashlight to his wrist.

The watch told him it was 9:45pm.

He has over an hour to find and rescue them before leaving for Malmstrom if he had any chance of getting to the safe zone with his brother.

Turning his attention back to the mound, he swore again.

**

Skye's pantings were starting to make her lungs burn.

She paused and glanced back.

She'd managed to push through the snow several feet creating a tunnel just wide enough for her petite body.

The light from the lantern had dissipated replaced with blackness, and this scared her.

Her arms and legs were starting to feel very heavy, and her eyelids drooped every now and then.

All she wanted to do was curl up and go to sleep.

Skye knew she couldn't though.

Granny needed her.

Turning her eyes back to the darkness, her mittens pawed through the cold, packed snow.

**

Jon set down the bulky backpack and pulled out a hand-held detector and turned it on.

He swept it through the air near the small mountain of snow.

Nothing.

Either they didn't have a transponder, or it wasn't working – this made his job even more difficult.

He took several steps backward to get a better view of the snowy heap.

It loomed as high as eight feet and possibly covered an area nearly half a block.

In his mind, he calculated that he was probably a quarter of mile from Beaumont Fall – and if they'd heard the avalanche, they probably began running this way toward the main trail. From that, he had a mental image of about where they could be.

He pulled his backpack on and began the trek around the pile when his radio burst to life.

"Jon, this is Gallatin calling. Over." A familiar voice came through the receiver.

"Hey Luggs, thought you'd be long gone by now." He responded.

"Me too." Brad replied. "Just got a call from a Frank Redmon over in Blackburg. He wanted me to pass on the info that Mrs. Benton was killed when her house collapsed."

Jon paused for a moment.

That must be the wife to the man he was searching for.

"Well, that sucks." Jon said.

"Yeah, man. Redmon just wanted us to know." The radio crackled. "Look, communication's going down all over the country and won't be long for us. I can be out there in less than thirty to assist."

Jon thought on Brad's offer for a second but shook his head.

"No, go be with your wife and get to safety. I have someone in mind to call as back up." He lied.

A long pause on the other end.

"Roger, partner. Good luck."