Read Online Buried Alive! by Gloria Skurzynski - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Gloria Skurzynski
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screamed. Slicing the air with his arm, he cried, âItâs over. You canât take all three of us. Leave us alone!â
âYou think youâve won?â 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.
âIâve got the dogs!â Chaz raged. âIn 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.â
As if to affirm his words, a gust of wind danced around them, blowing yet another curtain of crystals through the wild emptiness.
âGet out of here!â Nicky screamed.
âYouâll never make it.â
âIâll make it!â Nicky cried defiantly. âYou tell them Nicky Milano won. Youâll never find us againânot me, not my dad!â
Chaz let go of a stream of curse words, then released the claw break. Leaning forward, he shouted the command âHike! Letâs go!â 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 Chazâs 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 mountainâs 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 Ashleyâs arm and pulled her toward the direction theyâd come, but before heâd 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.
âSwim!â 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 couldnât 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 couldnât let himself give in to the fear, couldnât use up the last second of oxygen in frantic digging that could send him deeper into
âYou think youâve won?â 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.
âIâve got the dogs!â Chaz raged. âIn 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.â
As if to affirm his words, a gust of wind danced around them, blowing yet another curtain of crystals through the wild emptiness.
âGet out of here!â Nicky screamed.
âYouâll never make it.â
âIâll make it!â Nicky cried defiantly. âYou tell them Nicky Milano won. Youâll never find us againânot me, not my dad!â
Chaz let go of a stream of curse words, then released the claw break. Leaning forward, he shouted the command âHike! Letâs go!â 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 Chazâs 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 mountainâs 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 Ashleyâs arm and pulled her toward the direction theyâd come, but before heâd 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.
âSwim!â 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 couldnât 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 couldnât let himself give in to the fear, couldnât use up the last second of oxygen in frantic digging that could send him deeper into
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