Page 93 of Snowed In with Four Firemen
Suddenly, Tanner stops, his hand going up in a signal for us to halt. “Hold up.”
I stop immediately, the others coming to a standstill behind me. Tanner crouches down, brushing snow aside with his gloved hand. My heart pounds as I move closer, seeing what he’s uncovered—a set of footprints, faint but visible, leading off the trail and into the trees.
“They’re fresh,” Tanner says, glancing up at me. “Not more than an hour old, I’d guess.”
I nod, adrenaline surging. “They went off the trail. Could be trying to find shelter.”
Jace steps up beside me, frowning as he peers into the trees. “It’s a hell of a detour. If they’re out there, they’re exposed.”
“Then we don’t have much time,” I say, my jaw tightening. “We follow the tracks.”
Without hesitation, we follow the trail, the footprints leading us deeper into the trees. The wind is slightly weaker here, thethick canopy of branches above giving us a little protection from the worst of the storm.
The tracks lead us further and further off the main path, winding through the trees, and I keep my eyes on them, barely blinking. This is it. They’re close. I can feel it.
Just as we round a bend, I spot something up ahead—a dark shape in the snow, partially obscured by the low-hanging branches of the trees.
“Over there,” I call out, my voice tight with urgency. “I see something.”
The shape becomes clearer as we approach—a figure slumped against the base of a tree, covered in snow, barely moving.
It’s Sam.
“Sam!” I shout, rushing forward, dropping to my knees beside him. His face is pale, his lips blue from the cold, but he’s alive, shivering violently as I shake his shoulder. “Sam, can you hear me?”
His eyes flutter open, barely able to focus. He’s weak, too weak to speak, but he nods slightly, his body trembling uncontrollably.
Jace is at my side in seconds, pulling off his pack and retrieving a thermal blanket. “We need to get him warmed up now.”
Ben and Tanner are already searching the area, their eyes scanning for any sign of Whit. “Where’s Whit?” Ben asks urgently, his voice sharp with concern. “Sam, where is he?”
Sam tries to speak, his voice hoarse and barely audible. “He…he went…further up…tried to…get help.”
Damn it. Whit’s still out there, and from the looks of Sam, it’s a miracle he made it this far. If Whit went up the mountain alone in these conditions…
“Jace, get Sam wrapped up and stable,” I say, my voice firm. “Ben, Tanner—stay with them. I’m going after Whit.”
“No way you’re going alone,” Tanner says, stepping up beside me, his jaw set. “We’re all going.”
I glance at Sam, who’s fading fast, and then at the trail ahead, where Whit could be freezing to death as we speak. “Fine,” I say, gritting my teeth. “But we move fast. No more stops.”
“We’ve got to find him soon,” Ben mutters, pulling his scarf tighter around his face. “If he’s gone further up…he’s in serious trouble.”
I don’t respond.
Tanner stumbles once, and then again, catching himself with a growl of frustration. “Dammit. This snow is thick.”
“Keep going,” I say, my voice gruffer than I intend. “He can’t be far.”
But then I hear something—a faint sound, distant but unmistakable.
A shout.
I freeze, my ears straining against the wind. The others stop, too, holding their breath as we listen.
There it is again—fainter this time, but it’s there.
“Whit?” Jace shouts, his voice echoing through the trees. “Whit! Where are you?”
