I squeezed the throttle hard and plowed uphill.
The plastic windshield, and the helmet and goggles, protected me from the direct blast of blowing snow, but my cheeks and lips instantly iced over. Luckily I had gloves, or my fingers would have frozen along with my face. I located three sets of tracks in front of me.
The resort had strict boundaries for skiers and riders. From the general direction of the narrow lines, they were headed out of bounds.
The sun was dropping fast. Riding in the dark would be dangerous, but the falling snow covered the tracks so quickly, I couldn’t slow. I followed the parallel lines as best I could.
As darkness spread, I couldn’t see much outside the circular glow of the headlights. The snow swirled, disorienting me, but I went on. When I saw the rope boundary of the resort was cut to create a gap, I followed.
My watch vibrated against my wrist, but with the wind shrieking past my ears, I wouldn’t hear Brown if I tried to answer. Anyway, what could they do? Helicopters couldn’t fly in this storm and getting emergency vehicles up here would be next to impossible. Once again, the kidnappers had planned well, and we were a step behind.
I plowed through the storm for what seemed like an hour. I had no way to tell if I closed on them. I only had the fading tracks to follow. The point might come where they disappeared altogether, and I’d be stranded somewhere out of bounds, in a snowstorm, at night. I tried not to think about that.
The tracks plunged down a steep slope. Double black diamond took on a new meaning when the snowmobile gained speed on the decline and the back began to slip sideways. I let off the throttle. I couldn’t allow the machine to turn or it might tip over, crushing me, or it could trigger an avalanche. I was glad I slowed when a dark grove of snow-covered trees popped up ahead, leaving me little time to maneuver.
I drove slower into the forest, hoping what I was following was still tracks. It was getting hard to tell. Every part of my body was either freezing or already numb, but I had to keep moving or die.
A small orange light appeared on the dash—the fuel gauge.
I cursed a produce section worth of vegetables. The snowmobile fought hard, but after another ten minutes, it began to cough, then jerk, and finally slid to a stop.
The forest was pitch black and quiet. In Vail, snow dampened sounds. Even traffic from the nearby interstate was muffled. On the backside of a mountain in the Swiss Alps, it was something else entirely. Complete silence.
I checked my watch and my phone. No cell service. Brown couldn’t reach me.
All I had was the time on my watch, my flashlight baton, and the two rifles I took off the Swiss guards.
Using the flashlight, I scoured the snowmobile for anything else I could use. The luggage area at the back was empty, and the seat storage compartment was locked. I broke the lock with the butt on the baton and found a gas container—with no gas.
Leaving the helmet on for warmth, I trudged along, using the flashlight to follow the light tracks of the snowmobiles.
Walking in fresh backcountry powder was exhausting. I’d find a section of snow I thought could hold my weight, and a second later my foot would plunge through the thin crust up to my hip. My jeans were soaked, and snow melted into my socks and boots. I already couldn’t feel my hands or feet. I knew enough to know that if I didn’t find shelter soon, I would suffer hypothermia, frostbite, and other things I really didn’t want to know the names of.
I strained to hear sounds of the escaping snowmobiles. Or of anything. I flicked the flashlight off and peered through the dark, watching for headlights. Nothing. I closed my eyes and focused on slowing my breathing. I couldn’t afford to panic. I kept moving.
Until I lost the tracks.
When I couldn’t see any further sign of them, I leaned against the nearest tree trunk. My mouth was as dry as the Mojave Desert, and my legs were stiff. I could suck on snow for water, but the idea made me shudder harder than I already was. Frost crusted in my eyelashes, and I couldn’t wrinkle my nose or lick my lips. Fear slithered through me, squeezing my chest and threatening to smother me.
My thoughts grew fuzzy and sluggish as my body and brain fought the inevitable.
I thought about what I’d wished I’d said to Mom, all the shit I should’ve forgiven. I hadn’t had a chance to say goodbye, to tell her I loved her. I doubt she’d recover from losing me so soon after Gram. My throat swelled.
I flicked off the flashlight for good. The forest was claustrophobic as darkness pressed in and snow drifted around me.
Minutes passed.
Fear slowly turned to paralysis. Dying might be better than the deep, aching pain encasing my body. But as I tried to accept what was coming, something tugged at the back of my mind. Something I needed to notice.
I squinted and blinked.
A light flickered between the trees like a mirage. Struggling to breathe the freezing air and move my stiff body, I lurched toward it. My progress was slow. But that light equaled hope, and hope kept me moving.
As the light grew brighter, I saw others. Through the trees, a stone mansion—almost like a castle—took shape. Although, I might have imagined the turrets. I made my way toward it. I couldn’t feel much; even my ears had stopped throbbing and gone numb, which seemed like a bad sign.
A dog barked in the darkness, sharp and menacing. Another joined it. I didn’t try to run. Couldn’t. I hunched, shuddering with cold, and waited. A human voice called to them as they closed in on me. I still had the rifles strapped to me, but I
