“It’s okay,” I called out to her.
“Jack – it’s my fault – ”
“No, it’s not. You had to save your friends.”
“But if I hadn’t gone down there, you would have the rope – ”
“It’s okay, baby. It’s okay.”
“I’m sorry, Jack – I’m sorry – ”
“It’s okay, Lelia. It’s okay. Everything is gonna be okay.”
“I love you, Jack!” she cried out, tears choking her voice.
“I love you, too,” I shouted. I smiled as my eyes teared up.
“Awwwww… how touching,” another voice called out.
Weaver.
I turned around.
About 200 feet away across the small plateau, Weaver was standing at the mouth of the ravine. His gun was pointed in my general direction, though not directly at me.
Behind him stood the rest of his skiris army.
“She’s gonna be sayin’ how much she loves me in just a few minutes,” Weaver said. “How much she looooves what I’m gonna give her.”
Then he gave a few obscene pumps of his hips just to drive the point home.
I walked over to the three-foot-tall boulder and squatted down behind it.
On the other side of the rock, between me and Weaver, the fire was still crackling.
Weaver laughed. “What, you want to get warm before I kill your ass?”
“Nope.”
“You seem awful fuckin’ calm for somebody who’s about to die,” Weaver said cheerfully.
Actually, I was.
I was at peace.
“Get over here, motherfucker,” he called out.
“No thanks.”
Weaver made a point of pointing the AR-15 and sighting down the gun barrel. “I said get OVER here, or I’m gonna kill you right here and now and throw your body over the side so your girlfriend can watch my boys down there rip you apart.”
“Unless you’re an idiot, you’re not gonna pull that trigger,” I said.
“Oh yeah? And why’s that?”
I pointed up at the mountain precipices all around us. “A gunshot could trigger an avalanche.”
Weaver’s eyes suddenly widened, and he looked up.
I knew he could see what I saw: huge tranches of snow precariously balanced atop the cliffs all around us.
“There’s a couple hundred tons of snow up there,” I called out. “Looks like it might have even snowed since I left.”
“You think you’re smart, don’t you?” Weaver snarled.
“Smarter than you.”
“Dumbass – I don’t need to shoot you to come grab you!”
He started across the plateau towards me, following the path I had plowed earlier through the snow.
I unzipped the pocket of my jacket and grabbed what I needed.
“Hey Weaver… when you died, you had your gun on you, right?” I called out.
“Yeah, and I’m gonna shove it up your ass and use your rectum for a suppressor,” he yelled as he got closer. “I doubt that’ll set off an avalanche. Be like a reverse fart with hot lead.”
“Did I tell you that I had a rifle, too?” I called out.
Weaver froze, then hastily brought his AR-15 back up to his shoulder.
“Don’t worry,” I said. “I left it at the base of the mountain so I didn’t have it when I died.”
Weaver relaxed, the rifle dropping a few inches. “Then why the fuck are you tellin’ me?”
“Because I still had a few bullets,” I said as I reached around the boulder and dumped all six cartridges into the fire.
Weaver stood there, a confused look on his face.
I took that opportunity to duck back behind the boulder.
Then he realized what I’d done.
“YOU STUPID MOTHERFU– ”
That was when the gunpowder inside the casings heated up enough to go off.
BANG!
BANG!
BANG!
BANG!
BANG!
BANG!
Weaver dropped to the ground out of instinct.
The skiris did, too – I guess they’d been conditioned by Weaver shooting and threatening them with his gun.
A few of the bullets must have grazed the boulder, because I saw chips of stone fly.
I think one of the shots must have hit a skiris, because it howled bloody murder.
It would have been nice if it had hit Weaver, but that was a one in a billion chance.
Besides, trying to hit him wasn’t the reason I’d thrown the bullets in the fire.
The multiple explosions were.
Suddenly snow began to sift from the tops of the mountain peaks.
The tiny snow slides knocked loose more powder…
…until a block of snow suddenly collapsed and started sliding down the mountainside.
After that, all hell broke loose.
Snow rolled down the steep slopes, knocking loose more – tons of white powder triggering even more.
A rumble filled the valley.
“GODDAMMIT!” Weaver screamed in panic and fury.
I thought about staying there just to see him get washed away in a flood of snow – but I knew my moment of satisfaction would be fleeting. About one second, actually, before I got washed away, too.
So instead I ran for the cliff.
I knew logically that I was 10 feet short of what I needed to make the cave, but I figured I would try.
Miracles sometimes happened, right?
I’d wound up on this world.
I’d fallen in love.
And I’d found a reason to live again.
If that wasn’t a miracle, then I don’t know what is.
A deeper part of me knew. Knew it was pointless.
But, hey – I didn’t have anything else to do for the last six seconds of my life.
Strangely enough, I wasn’t afraid.
Knowing you’re going to die – that there’s no way around it – has a curiously freeing effect.
You accept it… and there’s peace.
Especially when you know that the person you love most is going to be safe because of what you did.
Besides, I’d died once in an avalanche before.
It hadn’t been that bad. I could do it again.
I reached the cliff.
Down in the valley, the skiris were all gathered around the base of the mountain.
They turned their monstrous heads up towards me; they could hear the rumble, though I’m not sure they knew what was going on.
Boy, somebody was going to be surprised in six seconds.
I turned, pulled taut on the rope, and leapt out into the void.
The last thing I saw as I kicked off was Weaver trying to aim his AR-15 at me.
That, and an enormous tsunami of white sliding down the mountain behind him.
His skiris were panicking, trying to run back into the ravine – but the wave of white
