took all of my willpower not to hurry ahead towards them.
I craned my neck around, searching for the source of the noise, when suddenly I noticed a nearby fir tree that was taller than the others. My heart thudded in my chest as I remembered the tree from my dream. I traced the beam of my torch from the top of the tree down to its base, and to the snowdrift piled up against it. For a moment, I stood there, pointing the torch at the snowdrift, perhaps expecting it to move, or to melt; then I rushed over to it—as quickly as I could through my fatigue and the snow—set the torch down carefully on the ground, and started to dig, flinging the snow over my shoulder.
“Hey! Over here!” I yelled, pausing in my excavations for a moment to try to summon help. For one terrible moment, there was no response, and I feared that I, too, had become lost. Then flashes of torchlight and the steady sounds of people striding towards me through the snow cut across the desolation. I exhaled.
“Dan! Danny, where are you?”
“Over here! I think I’ve found them!”
The glow of humanity grew stronger, and soon the other people in my group had gathered around. At the back, the policeman in charge radioed back to base camp that I had been found. He looked pissed off. My mother engulfed me, then pushed me away, holding me at arm’s length.
“Danny, you shouldn’t have run off like that! For a moment there, we thought we’d lost you, too!”
“I’m alright, Mum. I think I’ve found them! They’re under this snow somewhere.”
I wasn’t so young as to miss the doubtful glances that passed around the group. The policeman stepped forward.
“Son, if they were under that lot, they’d have died of hypothermia or suffocation by now. Come on, let’s keep moving.”
“You don’t understand. They’re under there. I know it. God told me.”
Although I’d only mumbled the last three words, the night air was still enough to carry them. More glances were exchanged, but most of the people in the group were from church, and this time the glances were of a more excited variety. Several people stepped forward, getting ready to expand upon my modest excavations. But the policeman held up his hands, adamant.
“Look, we already searched this grid earlier. We have to get over to the next one. If we don’t find anything there, then we’ll come back and start searching the other grids again, but we have to do it systematically. We can’t afford to waste any time. Those girls could be dying out there. I need concrete evidence, not visions, and especially not from someone who just wandered off into the night and almost started a second manhunt.”
Over the babble of protests that followed, another fragile moan suddenly drifted into the air, unmistakably originating from the snowdrift, and the argument was settled immediately. The policeman shot me a look—half wonder, half resentment—and radioed the base camp again, but the sound of his voice was buried beneath a rush of excitement. Everybody set upon the snowdrift, all traces of tiredness suddenly gone. The snow was light and powdery, and although our breath was soon coming in icy, ragged gasps, we quickly carved out a passage towards the tree. Somehow, I managed to find my way to the front of the scrabbling hands, and just as I did so, the snow was suddenly gone, giving way into a natural, insulating cavity that had been formed between the lowest branches of the tree and the ground. And there, huddled together in a pile close to the tree’s trunk, were the missing girls. The grey shade of their skin contrasted horribly with the assorted rainbow colours of their winter clothes, and for a moment it was impossible to tell if they were dead or only had their eyes closed.
At the first gasp of discovery, the eyes of one of the girls flickered open. She was quite a lot smaller than the other three, but even through the frost that speckled it, I could see a determined set to her face that
I craned my neck around, searching for the source of the noise, when suddenly I noticed a nearby fir tree that was taller than the others. My heart thudded in my chest as I remembered the tree from my dream. I traced the beam of my torch from the top of the tree down to its base, and to the snowdrift piled up against it. For a moment, I stood there, pointing the torch at the snowdrift, perhaps expecting it to move, or to melt; then I rushed over to it—as quickly as I could through my fatigue and the snow—set the torch down carefully on the ground, and started to dig, flinging the snow over my shoulder.
“Hey! Over here!” I yelled, pausing in my excavations for a moment to try to summon help. For one terrible moment, there was no response, and I feared that I, too, had become lost. Then flashes of torchlight and the steady sounds of people striding towards me through the snow cut across the desolation. I exhaled.
“Dan! Danny, where are you?”
“Over here! I think I’ve found them!”
The glow of humanity grew stronger, and soon the other people in my group had gathered around. At the back, the policeman in charge radioed back to base camp that I had been found. He looked pissed off. My mother engulfed me, then pushed me away, holding me at arm’s length.
“Danny, you shouldn’t have run off like that! For a moment there, we thought we’d lost you, too!”
“I’m alright, Mum. I think I’ve found them! They’re under this snow somewhere.”
I wasn’t so young as to miss the doubtful glances that passed around the group. The policeman stepped forward.
“Son, if they were under that lot, they’d have died of hypothermia or suffocation by now. Come on, let’s keep moving.”
“You don’t understand. They’re under there. I know it. God told me.”
Although I’d only mumbled the last three words, the night air was still enough to carry them. More glances were exchanged, but most of the people in the group were from church, and this time the glances were of a more excited variety. Several people stepped forward, getting ready to expand upon my modest excavations. But the policeman held up his hands, adamant.
“Look, we already searched this grid earlier. We have to get over to the next one. If we don’t find anything there, then we’ll come back and start searching the other grids again, but we have to do it systematically. We can’t afford to waste any time. Those girls could be dying out there. I need concrete evidence, not visions, and especially not from someone who just wandered off into the night and almost started a second manhunt.”
Over the babble of protests that followed, another fragile moan suddenly drifted into the air, unmistakably originating from the snowdrift, and the argument was settled immediately. The policeman shot me a look—half wonder, half resentment—and radioed the base camp again, but the sound of his voice was buried beneath a rush of excitement. Everybody set upon the snowdrift, all traces of tiredness suddenly gone. The snow was light and powdery, and although our breath was soon coming in icy, ragged gasps, we quickly carved out a passage towards the tree. Somehow, I managed to find my way to the front of the scrabbling hands, and just as I did so, the snow was suddenly gone, giving way into a natural, insulating cavity that had been formed between the lowest branches of the tree and the ground. And there, huddled together in a pile close to the tree’s trunk, were the missing girls. The grey shade of their skin contrasted horribly with the assorted rainbow colours of their winter clothes, and for a moment it was impossible to tell if they were dead or only had their eyes closed.
At the first gasp of discovery, the eyes of one of the girls flickered open. She was quite a lot smaller than the other three, but even through the frost that speckled it, I could see a determined set to her face that
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