Page 107 of One Last Stand

She lifted her head. Some fifty meters away.

He adjusted her on his back, then headed toward the entrance. The air filtered in, fresh and crisp, and at the far entrance, they came out into snow. The milky way fanned out across snow-gilded mountains, the sky a deep blue, almost velvet, and so many stars tossed across the heavens, it seemed almost like . . .

“You don’t see that kind of sky unless you’re in Alaska,” he said.

Home.

He pulled out his walkie. “Air One, this is Shep. Moose, come back.”

It took a moment of scratch, but Moose’s voice came through the line. “Sorry, Shep, I had to make the call—Ziggy isn’t doing well and we were at bingo. I’m halfway back to Luciella. York and Fraser are hoofing it out on the other side of the mountain. Where are you?”

Shep sighed, his big shoulders moving.

Uh-oh. Even she could see their predicament. No place for the chopper to land, and the backside of the mountain had turned mostly white, with snow lifting off it. More, the wind had kicked up on this side of the valley.

But that wasn’t the biggest issue. The rock over them jutted out, cutting off any deployment of a line.

But maybe it didn’t matter anyway.

Shep finally keyed the mic. “We’re on the backside of the mountain. It’s all snow for about five hundred yards down and then . . . forest. And darkness.”

Static, then, “Can you find a place to hunker down?”

Shep stared down the mountain. “Okay, when we scouted it the first time, I spotted an A-frame cabin. Sits on a ridge, about halfway down the mountain. We’ll make it there and lay low until you grab us.”

He clicked off the radio. “Good?”

“Good,” she said. “I can eve?—”

“Roger.” Moose cut off and Shep clipped the walkie back onto his harness.

“Okay, princess, let’s see if we can find our hotel.”

“Shep, I know I’m getting heavy.”

“For cryin’ out loud, London. Don’t you remember? I can hold you all day long.”

Aw,he was referring to that moment back at camp, on belay.

“What I need is a pair of skis.”

“Yeah.”

“Maybe I can glissade.”

“What—”

“But if I fall, we could both go headfirst down the mountain. And there are rocks.” He’d taken off his headlamp, held it up for more of a view. “But it looks steep enough. I just need something to steer, and self-arrest.”

“Like, a poker?”

He stilled. “What?”

She reached behind herself and pulled the metal bar from her waist. Brought it around front so he could see it. “I saw it on the floor when I tripped, and thought—weapon.”

“And I see an ice axe. Maybe.” He took it. “It has a sort of hook on it, so it could work.” He looked down. “It’s either that or we make camp in the cave and try to hike out in the morning.”

“It’s freezing in the cave, and we have nothing to make fire. . . . Do you really think you can find the cabin?”

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