Page 20 of Mountain Challenge

“Tristan can’t hold our position. He’s taking us to the next peak over, hoping the weather is better there.” That made sense. They could come at the valley from either end. “We will contact you when we’re there. In the meantime, you’re on your own.”

The rope disappeared from view as it was lifted back into the helicopter, and then the craft left. Around them, the wind still blew, but nothing like it had up there. Ry signaled he was taking lead. He saw Hugo look at his watch and knew his friend was checking the time so they could switch in a little while. Plowing through thick snow was hard work.

Ry kept his eyes peeled for any sign of the missing hikers. He didn’t expect to see any footprints in the snow—it’d been snowing too hard for that—but the hikers might have left some marks for them to follow, so he kept a lookout for clothes, piles of rocks, or anything that might be out of place.

An hour later, he had to concede defeat. There was nothing to indicate any other human being had been here recently. He wondered if the men were here at all. The girlfriend remembered them talking about it, but nobody had seen them all day. Ry tripped over the snow and only just managed to get his feet back under him.

“My turn to lead,” Hugo said, stepping up to Ry. He looked fresh as a daisy, and Ry’s competitive nature woke up. He took asip from his water bottle. Out here, it was easy to get dehydrated. “I can keep going.”

“I know you can,” Hugo said easily. “But it’s my turn now. No reason why you should have all the fun.” Ry barked out a laugh. Hugo was not a man of many words, but he had his own brand of humor.

“If memory serves, we’re heading to the old bridge,” Ry said. He pulled up the image of La Jonction on his phone. Phone coverage was bad up here, but he’d downloaded the images ahead of time. As he looked at the map, he felt a shiver of excitement go through him. It was possible the hikers had never made it to the top of La Jonction, that they’d realized the weather was getting worse and decided to stay put. It was worth checking out.

“They’d better not have tried to cross the bridge,” Hugo said, his voice muffled by the wind. “I don’t think it could hold a chipmunk, let alone a person.”

If memory served, there were signs to that effect on the bridge, as well as colorful red and yellow tape that their sibling PGHM unit had placed there earlier in the season.

“Beau, Alex. We are reaching the old bridge,” Ry said. “No sight of the hikers anywhere near La Jonction, but we’re going to check the bridge.”

“Understood. We are coming in from the opposite side, but we are still ten minutes away. We’ll get visual confirmation from either end and regroup at that point.”

“Have we stopped to think those idiots might be holed up in some bar in town, drinking themselves silly?” Hugo asked.

“Think of the lovely early-morning walk we’re getting,” Ry said, smiling. “And we’re getting paid for it.”

“Not enough,” Hugo grumbled. “Anyway, what’s gotten into you? When did you turn into Little Miss Sunshine?” Ry laughed.He was about to reply when the old bridge came in sight. The words died in his mouth. “Hugo?”

“I see them.”

Two shapes, huddled together. Ry and Hugo took off at a run, all thoughts of tiredness forgotten. This was why they did what they did—because there were times when they could be the difference between life and death.

“Richard? Miles?” Ry asked, reaching the figures first. One of the shapes looked up, and now Ry could see a face. Pale and drawn. But alive.

“I’m Richard,” the man said, speaking slowly, as if even getting those two words out was an effort. Which it probably was, since the man looked half-frozen. He was wearing winter clothing, a thick winter jacket, mittens and a woolly hat, but ice and snow coated his thin mustache. He didn’t seem to notice the way his body trembled.

“We’re with the PGHM,” Ry said. “We’re going to get you out of here. We have emergency blankets in our pack, and will make you as comfortable as we can for the way down.”

Ry had said those words before, and knew different people received them very differently. But he’d never—ever—had someone look at him with such complete lack of interest.

“I could do with a smoke,” Richard said, his voice slurred. A classic symptom of hypothermia.

“Miles?” Ry asked, looking at the second man, who hadn’t yet said a word. “How are you doing?” For the longest time, he remained huddled, his eyes on the abyss in front of him. His winter jacket flapped open to his sides. Ry’s heart beat fast against his chest. He did not want to be moving a corpse out of here.

“Sir?” Hugo asked, his voice more forceful than Ry’s had been.

Finally, the man—presumably Miles—looked back at them, glassy eyes unfocused on his round face. A face that became even rounder when he broke out in an unexpected, jovial laugh. “Friends! You want to join us?”

Ry frowned. The man’s cheeks were red with heat rash. He had to be hypothermic—but he didn’t look it. The way his pupils were dilated, he looked?—

“High,” Hugo whispered, completing the thought. “They’re both drugged out of their minds.”

“Would you move away from the edge, gentlemen?” Ry asked, keeping his voice nice and steady.

“We like it here,” one called out.

“Come join us,” his buddy added, laughing gleefully, as if he’d just made a great joke.

“Yeah, join us here!”

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