us,â came the response. Two other voices said, âNo.â
The door opened again. The wind howled in the shed, and I couldnât hear anything from inside the cabin.
I pulled my snowboard out from behind the woodpile and strapped my backpack over my shoulders, all the while waving smoke away from my face. If I stood at the door of the woodshed, I could see downhill. Whoever was inside would have to go out the door and then straight down. Especially if they were on boards. So unless they looked back, which no one ever really does on a snowboard, I would be fine to follow them.
I strapped my board on and waited. About five minutes later, the first person popped into view and started down the hill. Close behind him was Hope. Then Bryce. Then another man.
But where was the third kidnapper? I was pretty sure I had heard three male voices. I waited and waited. I couldnât see the group anymore, and the storm was closing in. I had to go, or soon I wouldnât be able to follow their tracks. I jumped forward. Then I grabbed the side of the house and shoved as hard as I could. I kept the board flat, which is never a good idea, but I keep my board well waxed, and this was the best way to pick up some speed in the deep powder.
I crouched down, tucked as much as possible and waited for a bullet to go through my head.
It took less than a minute to get into the woods. I glanced back and couldnât see any movement in the cabin. Whatever the third kidnapper was doing, he wasnât looking out the door or window. Or maybe he had been. Maybe he had seen me and was using a satellite phone to call ahead to the others. There was no way of knowing.
The trail went through the trees in a kind of sideways shuffle. I followed, moving as quickly as possible but keeping my eyes peeled for the last man in the group. I suspected that they would be going fairly slowly. The weather conditions were bad and getting worse.
The trail cut out of the woods and onto a steep, open slope. I came to the top of this section and stopped. The wind was blowing straight across the slope, making it almost impossible to see anything.
Or anyone.
I looked down at the trail in the snow. It appeared that the boarders had cut across the hill, back toward the other side of the mountain. But this didnât make sense. The drop went from high to low. We were on the low side. It wasnât possible to make it back up, was it? Or maybe the drop didnât go all the way down the mountain. We had never asked Sam about this.
I dropped into the downhill. I was trying to look as far forward as possible, but it was getting more difficult to see anything at all. The trail moved steadily sideways, every so often dipping into steep downhill rolls.
Ahead of me there was nothing but white. Everywhere, everything was a solid white. The trail had disappeared beneath me. I couldnât tell which way the others had gone.
I stopped and listened for voices, but all I could hear was the howling wind. I cut back down again, figuring that they would keep going down and over until they came to the drop.
I did this for about two minutes until the slope flattened out. Then I went more directly down, picking up speed. I did a couple of quick turns, all the while trying to see through the storm. It felt like I was picking up too much speed, so I cut hard on my toe edge and shot back up the hill to stop and look. As I was turning, readying myself to drop in on my heel edge, I heard a scream.
A girlâs scream.
chapter fifteen
I didnât even think about it this time. I just dropped back in and tucked as hard as I could toward the sound. I hadnât gone more than twenty feet when I spotted someone. It looked like one of the kidnappers. The one who had been at the back of the group. I decided I would try and run right into him. If I could take him by surprise, then Iâd have the upper hand. I tucked hard and aimed straight for him. But just as I was
The door opened again. The wind howled in the shed, and I couldnât hear anything from inside the cabin.
I pulled my snowboard out from behind the woodpile and strapped my backpack over my shoulders, all the while waving smoke away from my face. If I stood at the door of the woodshed, I could see downhill. Whoever was inside would have to go out the door and then straight down. Especially if they were on boards. So unless they looked back, which no one ever really does on a snowboard, I would be fine to follow them.
I strapped my board on and waited. About five minutes later, the first person popped into view and started down the hill. Close behind him was Hope. Then Bryce. Then another man.
But where was the third kidnapper? I was pretty sure I had heard three male voices. I waited and waited. I couldnât see the group anymore, and the storm was closing in. I had to go, or soon I wouldnât be able to follow their tracks. I jumped forward. Then I grabbed the side of the house and shoved as hard as I could. I kept the board flat, which is never a good idea, but I keep my board well waxed, and this was the best way to pick up some speed in the deep powder.
I crouched down, tucked as much as possible and waited for a bullet to go through my head.
It took less than a minute to get into the woods. I glanced back and couldnât see any movement in the cabin. Whatever the third kidnapper was doing, he wasnât looking out the door or window. Or maybe he had been. Maybe he had seen me and was using a satellite phone to call ahead to the others. There was no way of knowing.
The trail went through the trees in a kind of sideways shuffle. I followed, moving as quickly as possible but keeping my eyes peeled for the last man in the group. I suspected that they would be going fairly slowly. The weather conditions were bad and getting worse.
The trail cut out of the woods and onto a steep, open slope. I came to the top of this section and stopped. The wind was blowing straight across the slope, making it almost impossible to see anything.
Or anyone.
I looked down at the trail in the snow. It appeared that the boarders had cut across the hill, back toward the other side of the mountain. But this didnât make sense. The drop went from high to low. We were on the low side. It wasnât possible to make it back up, was it? Or maybe the drop didnât go all the way down the mountain. We had never asked Sam about this.
I dropped into the downhill. I was trying to look as far forward as possible, but it was getting more difficult to see anything at all. The trail moved steadily sideways, every so often dipping into steep downhill rolls.
Ahead of me there was nothing but white. Everywhere, everything was a solid white. The trail had disappeared beneath me. I couldnât tell which way the others had gone.
I stopped and listened for voices, but all I could hear was the howling wind. I cut back down again, figuring that they would keep going down and over until they came to the drop.
I did this for about two minutes until the slope flattened out. Then I went more directly down, picking up speed. I did a couple of quick turns, all the while trying to see through the storm. It felt like I was picking up too much speed, so I cut hard on my toe edge and shot back up the hill to stop and look. As I was turning, readying myself to drop in on my heel edge, I heard a scream.
A girlâs scream.
chapter fifteen
I didnât even think about it this time. I just dropped back in and tucked as hard as I could toward the sound. I hadnât gone more than twenty feet when I spotted someone. It looked like one of the kidnappers. The one who had been at the back of the group. I decided I would try and run right into him. If I could take him by surprise, then Iâd have the upper hand. I tucked hard and aimed straight for him. But just as I was
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