Vivian Arend - High Passion

She trusted him with her life every time they came out to do a job. But this was more than that. She trusted him now on a whole different level, and the buzz of that revelation warmed her the rest of the flight to the trailhead.

“We’re in position,” Erin announced. “I’ll parallel the creek for the first couple kilometers where there isn’t another approach option. Check the snow conditions, Anders, and let me know if you need me to do a flyby on the tree route once we hit that section.”

Alisha shifted to face the window, leaning in to stare down at the snow-covered ground. It was early in the ski season, so early that some parts of the creek were still open, the water flowing over the edges of ice, glasslike sections reflecting the sun in flashes. Shorter pines and scraggy brush poked up in spots along the water’s edge, and through the middle lay two thin lines running parallel to each other, following the stream’s meandering path.

“Ski tracks,” Xavier called first. “Someone went in during the past few days, and there’s no new snow over them.”

“That makes the search easier.” Anders stood and leaned over Xavier’s shoulder. “You keep an eye on the path. Erin, looks as if we’ve got a straight route to the headwall. How are the conditions?”

“Wind is fine right now, but I expect it to pick up once we ascend the valley. Gusts usually roar on the glacier top.”

Anders nodded. “Yeah, most nights Bow Hut shakes from the high winds. No fresh snow is great, but our chance of following these clear tracks all the way to our targets is zero. They’ll have blown away or drifted over within twenty-four hours.”

They passed the base of the wide half-moon wall where the trail elevation increased so rapidly that the only way for a skier or hiker to reach the top of the plateau was a series of tight switchbacks. In the summer, the steep terrain would make the average hiker’s thighs burn with exertion. Now in the middle of ski conditions, there was the added danger of the snowpack on the upper slopes letting go and taking out everything below it.

“It’s clear,” Xavier announced. “No avalanche sign. The cornices on the peak are still hanging on.”

“Swing wide to the hut,” Anders ordered Erin. “Alisha, Xavier, you two will do a run in to check the daybook and see if anyone camped out during the past few nights. We’ll lift up and get Erin to sweep the area while you’re looking around.”

Landing outside the hut proved everything she’d expected. The door cracked open and Alisha dropped to the ground, the snow underfoot hard-packed to rock solid by the wind. Any loose powder knocked free by the pressure of the props swirled icy cold around them as temperatures fell to below freezing.

“You check the sleeping quarters. I’ll meet you in the cookhouse,” Xavier suggested.

It only took a minute for her to look, the separate square boxlike cabin with bunks lining the walls even colder than outside. The wind caught the door and created a high-pitched whistle that echoed in the empty space. Alisha joined Xavier, glancing around the smaller hut, her breath causing puffs of steam to expand into the unheated air.

Xavier spoke into his walkie-talkie, one hand holding the hut logbook. “They were here two nights ago. Planned to head to Balfour Hut.”

“Affirmative, we’ve spotted a faint trail line from up here. It fades, but we’ll check the usual route.” Anders ordered, “Prep yourselves, guys, I suspect we’ll be looking in crevasses.”

Alisha shivered as she and Xavier jogged to the landing site. She liked summer rescues better than winter, and crevasses were her least favourite winter rescue situation.

Lowering herself into one of the narrow cracks in the ancient glacier ice fields was mentally different from lowering into a rock cavern, and miles from doing an actual vertical climb. She checked herself, though, and while she wasn’t looking forward to it, she wasn’t more frightened than usual.

Fear wasn’t a bad thing, especially if it kept you on your toes to stay alive.

The helicopter rose smoothly. Erin banked to the south, the pressure pressing Alisha into her seat as they moved toward the main ice field.

A soft touch on her thigh made her glance down, and she was surprised to see Devon resting his hand easily on her even as he looked out the window. She didn’t say anything, just laid her hand on top of his briefly, needing that moment of connection.

Warmth rushed her. Contentment. She was here, doing what she loved, with people she . . .

Alisha took a deep breath and pushed the rest of that thought aside for now. Concentrating on the rescue was her first priority. Even though she wasn’t about to deny that Devon’s hand resting on her leg warmed her a whole lot.

“Head to the west.” Tripp pointed into the distance. “See it? Open crevasses in the middle of a snow field.”

Anders swore softly as he moved forward for a better view. “You think the idiots walked over a few snow bridges unintentionally, then hit a section of weak snow?”

Devon stared at the warning signs of a situation gone bad. Glacier ice had a tendency to crack open in long, extended streaks, exposing what looked like claw marks from the air. On the ground level, these cracks could be anywhere from a foot across or more than ten feet, and plummeting in depth from a few feet to impossibly frightening measurements. The most dangerous crevasses were the surface cracks that were three or four feet wide—narrow enough that in a strong wind, snow would cling to the edges until a cap formed over the top, creating a false level surface.

A lucky skier or hiker could cross a snow bridge without knowing it. If the pack was thick enough, and the temperatures cold enough to hold the fragile structure together. The unlucky ones broke through and fell to whatever depth before the crack narrowed and pinned them in place.

If it narrowed at all.

“We’ll know in a minute,” Erin offered. “I can fly you through the maze, but I can’t set you down.”

“No problem,” Alisha straightened her collar, prepping to be lowered. “Anders can winch me.”

Devon got himself ready, adjusting his harness and double-checking the new carabiner he pulled from the gear bag. He’d observed Alisha closely the entire trip out, but there was nothing about her behavior to complain about. Nothing unusual compared to before she’d had the emergency trip to the hospital.

Amazing was the only thing that came to his mind as he watched her prep to be lowered from the hovering helicopter. Brave, strong—he admired her more every day. Which made the fact he wanted to tell her that more difficult to keep silenced.

Xavier shouted. “We got a hit. Holy shit, what the hell did they do?”

Peering from the window, it was difficult to figure out the exact problem, until he noticed the faint lines. “They were roped together. Look. There, and there. One of them must have fallen through, jerked the other two off their feet, and they each broke through a different section.”

“Alisha, get in position.” Anders motioned the others back. “Set a couple anchors for the sleds before you head into the crack.”

“Got it,” Alisha said. While Anders checked her buckles and ropes, she glanced over his shoulder at Devon, smiling and giving him a thumbs-up.

He nodded. “Don’t make me have to climb too far. I’m feeling lazy.”

She snorted, then ignored him and followed Anders’s instructions.

The noise increased as the main door slid open, not only the sound of the props, but the wind rushing around them as Erin hovered the chopper over one of the wider bands of solid ice. Alisha turned and leaned back, easing over the bay lip and into midair, where the cable supported her slow descent to the ground.