The Last Chance

Sunrise exploded with blood-red slashes across the frozen horizon. Jeff hit the rise and caught air, landing with a jolt that nearly tore his helmet off. Gaining speed, he leaned into a right-hand downhill turn and threw a rooster tail into the berm of the narrow trail. His jaw hurt and he realized he was grinding his teeth. He dropped his head for a second and inhaled.

Jeff squeezed the remote button on his ski pole and said, “Sammy, you copy?”

Carrying speed from the short downhill, he leaned left and popped up over a rise and into a bed of rolled-up snow called death cookies. He landed with a jar and tightened up his core, driving his legs through the cruddy section. Losing momentum, he pulled with his poles and powered through, reaching for good snow.

His radio cracked and a shaky voice said, “Jeff, Jeff, I’m here. You’ll be okay, and everything is fine.”

Hearing the emotion over the microphone made him feel sick. He had not waited for her.

“I just crossed the bed of cookies. I’m about five miles from the cabin. Hang tight. You haven’t seen them yet, have you?”

His mind raced. So much happened at once. Sammy cried, and the next minute, he found himself on the trail to the cabin. The frozen wind tore at his goggles, the confusion slowly melted into the best feeling he had ever experienced. He felt light as air. Making it through the jumbled up snow, Jeff faced the tough part of the trip, powdered snow, and uphill for a mile. He reached out with his arms and legs in an exaggerated motion, plowing through the snow. The short skis were great for speed but miserable as alpine gear.

He powered his way through the straight uphill section and waited for Sammy to respond. He thought of Tom and then remembered Tom. The pain in his head eased off a little, but the thought of Tom sent chills of horror through him. The image of Tom colliding with the snowcat pulsated in his mind. He choked back tears; it is something he knew he would never forget. Everything happened so quickly he dove to help Jeff, no, to help Tom, not Jeff, and then things went black for a moment. The radio cracked again and Sammy’s voice came across in pieces.

“Sammy, you are breaking up. I don’t understand.”

Silence. He knew they must be five miles apart, her in a valley and he surrounded by trees. And he feared he knew what she tried to tell him. He picked out a large pine tree in front of him and quickened his pace. If it wasn’t because he feared for Sammy’s life, he would have thoroughly enjoyed this trip to the cabin. Between the exhilaration of the trail and going to the cabin, he couldn’t remember why he was here, on the skis. Then it all came back. It was for Tom. Sammy sent him for Tom, right?

 The trip from the lodge to the cabin circled the mountain range, covering 15 miles. The trip on skis took between an hour and an hour and a half. Today, he figured he had done the entire trip so far in thirty minutes. Breathing in the cold, clear air, Jeff felt exhilarated and infused with power. He never felt better. The top of the uphill section brought a shout of joy. Jeff shushed his way over the downhill path to the cabin.

The broken communication with Sammy worried him. He worried about Tom. The chopper should have picked Tom up now and in the air, the distance between them would not have mattered. He smiled as the blur of trees and branches passed his head; the snow flying in all directions. He had always dreamed of the perfect run and he was now having it, and it was like a dream. Suddenly, that worried him. He should not be enjoying this. Sammy could be in serious trouble.

Skimming the poles on the hard-packed snow, Jeff coasted into the driveway. The snowcat sat off to one side. It looked like a pool of blood in the front. Someone probably hit a deer. The stillness and silence of the setting made him uncomfortable. Where are the birds? And squirrels usually made a racket this time of the morning? He reached back with the ski pole and popped the bindings loose from his skis. He picked them up and took the helmet off. The cool air felt wonderful.

There was a lightness seizing him and made him almost giddy. Looking back at the trail, he beamed, knowing that he had done the lodge to cabin run in record time. He wished he could brag to Tom, yet something pulled at him, knowing that Sammy was in trouble. Jeff walked up to the cabin and stood in the doorway. Something was different. He could not place his finger on it, but something was wrong. He looked at his watch; it read 4:30. That was wrong. It was 4:30 when he left the lodge. He reached for the door but pulled back, not in fear, but in something else. There was a premonition of some sort he could sense that something was not normal.  

The snowcat, that is wrong, Tom had crashed into it and that was back at the lodge. How could it be here? He dropped the helmet and ran to the back of the cabin. The door was open and Sammy sat in a chair by the fireplace with her head in her hand. Emotion clouded his vision, and he spoke but paused when a man appeared from out of the hallway; his brother. Jeff shook his head. No, it can’t be. He saw Tom and the snowcat collide; he saw Tom die.

Sammy shook, and Jeff heard her sobbing voice. “Why Tom, why?”

Tom placed his hand on Sammy’s shoulder and said nothing. The two stood there, motionless and silent.

Jeff grinned and then laughed out-load with relief. “Okay, real funny, you got me. You staged the whole thing. Tom did not crash and burn when he hit the snowcat you sent me down the hill so that you could stage this charade. I don’t know how you got the cat and yourself here before me, but bravo, good job.” Jeff clapped his hands. The two did not move.

Jeff raised his hands. “Hey come on, the jig is up. Here I stand, the complete fool, you got me.”

Sammy patted Tom’s hand and stood looking at a yellow tarp covering something in the middle of the floor.

Tom said, “I just got a call from the chopper. They should be here in about ten minutes. I told them no hurry.”

She wiped her eyes and said, “He saved your life, Tom. He dove in front of the snowcat and pushed you out of the way. That broken emergence brake finally failed. He said he was going to have that fixed but never got around to it.”

Jeff shook his head and stepped forward, but did not move. “Hey, I’m here. Everything’s okay. I just finished the run from the lodge to the cabin in less than an hour. Try to beat that.”

Suddenly, everything blurred into a brilliant light. He felt a hand on his shoulder and a kind soft voice, say “Well done, good and faithful servant. Come on home, we’ve been waiting.” And Jeff went home.

Sammy took a deep breath and looked around. “Did you hear something? I thought I heard a voice say well done.”

Tom said, “No, but I hear the chopper. I’ll go wave them in.”

Sammy touched his arm and said, “You know, just before he died, he said he wished he could do the run from the lodge to the cabin one more time. I nodded and said, go, man, do it. I swear I saw him smiling when he closed his eyes.”