The Journey Home (8 page)

Jake fled, pure terror powering his limbs, as the mountain seemed to collapse from under him. He snatched up Cody and sprinted, but the knee-high snow slowed him down like thick mud.

It was no use. The avalanche was bearing down on them. In moments they'd be engulfed.

“Taylor, if you go under, make a space for—”

But before Jake even had a chance to finish, the colossal mass of snow smashed into them from behind. Jake staggered, stumbled to his knees, and fell hard. From under his arm Cody let out a frightened yip of pain. Jake gasped for air and flailed with his free hand like a drowning swimmer, but he found nothing. Cody slipped out of his arms and bounded away as the snow heaped up on Jake, burying him alive.

The wave passed, and the earth was still. Cold snow pressed in all around Jake until he couldn't tell which way was up and which way was down. He tried to move his arms, but they didn't budge. The darkness was total. Snow stifled him like a pillow held across his face.

Don't panic,
he told himself as he tried to gather a breath. Instead of air he sucked in a wad of frozen snow. Not panicking was easier said than done. Jake racked his brain, desperate to find a way out.

Suddenly a flash of inspiration came to him and he remembered exactly what he had to do—even if it was gross. He gathered the saliva in his mouth and pursed his lips, letting it dribble out. Instead of going down his chin, the spit seemed to be traveling upward, ending up in his right nostril.

I'm upside down.

With a grunt and a heave, he flexed his legs and kicked upward. Suddenly they broke free, and instead of tight snow
and compacted ice, Jake could feel the cold air whip across his ankles. Working his elbows back and forth, he struggled upward, wriggling his way out of the snow backward.

Dazed, he got to his feet and looked around him. His backpack was lying half-buried in the snow twenty feet away, but that was the only thing he recognized. Everywhere around him, pure white snow had wiped out the landscape.

“Taylor!” Jake called. Panic was battering his chest and demanding to be let in. “Taylor, are you okay?”

A furry, brown-and-white head popped up from the snow.

“Cody!” Jake yelled. The little dog struggled up, shook himself off, and bounded over. “Good boy! Find Taylor. You got it?”

Cody seemed to understand. He skittered back and forth in the deep snow, sniffing and whining.

“Taylor!” Jake shouted at the top of his lungs. The noise echoed across the mountainside, with no reply.

Jake remembered where Taylor had fallen, but now hundreds of tons of snow had rearranged the hillside, and nothing looked the same. He scrambled up the slope, praying he'd see Taylor's sandy brown hair sticking out of the powder, but there was only blank whiteness in every direction.

On impulse Jake stopped to dig a hole, thinking some deep instinct might have led him to his brother. But there was nothing. He moved a few feet away and dug another one.

“Taylor!” he yelled over and over again, his throat growing hoarse.

He's running out of air,
whispered a panicked voice in his mind.
He won't last long. . . .

Jake smothered the voice, forced himself to think clearly. He racked his brain, and another thought came to him.
What if he was swept past me?

He whirled to look down the slope for his brother. There was no sign of Taylor, but a figure was emerging from the house they'd seen before. It was a girl, around his age. She had long black hair tied back and was dressed for the cold. The avalanche had pushed him a lot closer to the house.

“Help!” he hollered, waving madly. “Help!”

She cupped her hands to her mouth. “You okay?”

“My brother's buried in the snow!”

The girl sprinted back into the house. Seconds later she emerged with a mop and a broom, and hurried up the slope toward Jake.

“Did you see where he went down?” the girl shouted as she approached.

“Somewhere here!” Jake waved at where Cody was running back and forth.

“Here,” the girl said, thrusting the broom into Jake's hands. “You take that side, I'll take this. We'll track across the snowfield and stick the broom handles down into the snow until we find him. Got it?”

The pair of them began crisscrossing the snowfield,
jabbing, moving, jabbing again. Jake wished he had the girl's steady confidence.

On their second pass the girl hit something hard, and Jake's heart leaped into his throat, hoping it was Taylor. They quickly dug down to find Taylor's backpack—but no Taylor.

“We've got to find him!” Jake yelled, plunging the broomstick into the snow.

“Hey!” the girl said, narrowing her eyes. “Keep it together and carry on searching, okay? If he's got an air pocket to breathe in, he'll be fine.”

If,
Jake thought. He drove the broom handle into the snow again and again.
But what if he doesn't? Hi, Mom, glad you're still alive, but unfortunately I got Taylor killed.

Suddenly Cody began barking thirty feet up the slope.

“Over there!” Jake shouted.

They scrambled up to find the terrier digging into a deep snowdrift. Jake and the girl dove in to help. Jake plunged his hand into the snow and felt something—
a leg!

“We got him!” Jake shouted. Together they dug down to Taylor's waist and grabbed a leg each.

“On three,” the girl ordered. “One, two . . .”

With a heave they dragged Taylor out. He wasn't moving. Jake fell to his knees next to him.

“Taylor, come on, it's going to be okay. We got you. Taylor, wake up,
please
!”

But Taylor didn't reply. His skin had turned waxen and his eyes were closed.

The girl leaned over Taylor. “Let's get him back to the house,
now
!”

Jake put Taylor over his shoulder, fireman style, took a few steps, and collapsed under the weight.

“Let me help,” the girl said. They each took one of Taylor's arms and tried dragging him, but it was slow going as his body sank into the snow. If only they had a sled . . .

Jake suddenly had an idea. He pulled out the poncho from Taylor's pack and spread it on the snow.

“Can you help me get him onto that?” Jake asked. Working together, he and the girl maneuvered Taylor onto the poncho. Then, each taking hold of the poncho, they pulled. Jake held his breath—would it work?

It did! The poncho glided easily over the snow, and in no time they slid Taylor down the slope, all the way to the front door.

They carried him inside and lay him down next to a woodstove in the living room. The girl knelt down and felt for Taylor's pulse.

“He's still breathing,” she said. “And his pulse is pretty good.”

“Taylor, can you hear me?”

Nothing happened at first. They were the longest minutes of Jake's life, as he gnawed his lip and prayed that his brother would wake up. Then, just when Jake had begun to give up hope, Taylor's green eyes fluttered open, and a loud hacking cough rumbled from his chest.

“Taylor, are you all right?” Jake shouted, feeling the relief course through him.

Taylor swallowed and muttered, “Wh-why are you yelling? I'm right here, you idiot.”

The girl laughed and looked across to Jake. “He sounds all right to me!”

A half hour later Taylor sat in a chair next to the woodstove, two blankets wrapped around him, a cup of hot cocoa in his hands. Jake perched in a chair next to him, only taking his eyes off his brother to glance at the room around them.

The house was about twice the size of Abe's cabin, and much more modern. It also had more conveniences, including running water, a refrigerator, and electric lights—powered by a gas generator, Jake guessed. The whole setup seemed luxurious compared to what the boys were used to.

“Here you go.” The girl handed Jake his own cup of cocoa and pulled up a chair next to Taylor. She wore a T-shirt and jeans embellished with sequins. “How're you feeling, Taylor?”

“Better.” Taylor smiled through a cocoa mustache. “I'm finally getting warm.”

“That's good. It might take a while. I'm Kim, by the way.”

“You live here by yourself?” Taylor asked.

Kim shook her head and laughed. “Mom's out visiting the cousins. She won't be back till later. So, Taylor, Cody, and . . .”

“Jake,” said Jake.

“You two are brothers, right? I can see it in your faces.”

“Yeah, we are. So what?”

Kim gave a low whistle. “Whoa! Easy, there.”

“Sorry.” Jake fidgeted uneasily. He knew he was acting like someone with something to hide, and the girl clearly knew it too. He'd gone outside and retrieved Taylor's backpack as well as the snowboard, but he hadn't thought up a cover story.

With a broad grin she asked, “Sooo, what brings you guys out here on your own, miles from town, just after a giant snowstorm?”

“We're snowboarders,” Jake answered, saying the first thing that came into his head.

“Snowboarders!” she echoed. “With only one board between you. So do you, like, take turns?”

“I dropped mine in the avalanche!” Jake protested.

Kim made a noise halfway between a snort and a laugh. “We don't get many snowboarders around here. You do know you're on the Wind River Reservation, don't you?”

The question left Jake tongue-tied, but Taylor stepped in. “We kind of got lost. When we saw your house, we decided to come and ask for directions.”

At least that part's true,
Jake thought.

Kim just shrugged. “Whatever. It's my mom's job to look after this part of the reservation. I couldn't care less what you guys are up to, but she'll definitely want to know.”

A question came to Jake's lips then, as he noticed what
was missing from the house, but he bit it back. Kim must have guessed what was on his mind, though, because she said, “Dad doesn't live with us. Not anymore.”

“Our parents split up too,” Taylor said.

“Sucks, doesn't it?” Kim said with a wry twist of the mouth.

Jake relaxed a little. Now that they had something in common, maybe she'd stop with the questions.

“So, who do you need to call?” said Kim, standing up. “Your mom, or your dad? You'll want to tell them you're safe, I bet.”

Or maybe she'll just ask us
more
questions.
Jake avoided her eyes. “We, uh . . .”

“I'll get the phone. What's your phone number?”

Jake and Taylor glanced at each other.

“We don't, uh, know,” Jake said.

Kim burst out laughing. “Oh, give me a
break
! You don't know your phone number? You're out here alone, with a bunch of camping gear and a single freakin' snowboard, and now you've got amnesia, too?”

A sound came from outside—a vehicle was approaching the house.

“That'll be Mom,” Kim said. “I'd tell her you are my guests . . . if I knew who the hell you two really were. But maybe you'll tell her yourselves.”

“You want the truth?” Jake erupted. “Fine. We've run away from our dad, and we're trying to get to our mom. She's in trouble.”

“What kind of trouble?”

“Big trouble. The kind that could get her killed,” Taylor said. “She nearly died once already.”

Jake sighed.
Geez, Taylor. Tell her everything, why don't you.

Kim stared at the two of them. Outside, boots crunched on the ice, coming closer to the door.

“I
knew
you were runaways,” Kim said, sounding satisfied. “Sorry, guys, but my mom needs to know.”

“Don't!” Jake pleaded. “We can't go back to Dad. Our mom needs us. Please!”

Kim gave him a calculating look. She seemed to be weighing her options. Jake gripped the arms of his chair, sick with dread.