Racing Storm Mountain, page 11
From outside the mine came a shrieking howl. A coyote, probably. He hoped it was the sound of a coyote and not a wolf. Another howl answered the first. What could possibly be out there in this snow?
A moment later another howl, a scream, came from deeper in the mine.
“Swann?” Kelton shouted.
Hunter screamed, but this was wrong, a shout of fear and pain. Some kind of thudding, crunching sound. Then Swann screamed, even louder than before.
“What’s going on?” Kelton called. “You guys OK?”
“Kelton!” came the sound of Swann’s voice. “Oh my gosh, Kelton! Get back here! Hurry! Hunter fell down a . . . fell down a thing! Hurry! I think he might be dead.”
CHAPTER 11
SWANN DID A KIND OF STUTTER STEP BACK-AND-FORTH toward the hole and away from it. “Nonononooo. Hunter?” Only the faintest glow shined up from the flashlight on the ground next to Hunter’s body—next to Hunter—so that near-total darkness surrounded Swann. She took out her phone for light, but somehow now it didn’t seem to do much to push back the dark. Hunter had spotted some wood in the chamber below and tried to use the old ladder to get down there. It broke to pieces not long after he put his full weight on it, and he’d dropped right down. He lay on his back down there, eyes closed, leg at a weird angle. Was he breathing? “No, please don’t be dead,” she whispered, wiping her eyes. “Kelton, where are you?”
“Swann? Hunter?” Kelton’s voice echoed through the darkness. “How am I supposed to find you?” He yelled and cursed. “I’m OK. Just tripped. Swann, I think there’s more than one way to go. You gotta direct me.”
“Kelton,” Swann called back. “Hunter is . . . he’s not answering. His eyes are closed. He has the flashlight. I only have my phone light. As long as we are all being honest tonight, I don’t want to be one of those weak, frightened, fragile rich princess types who need to be rescued. But I am freaking out right now.”
“Hey,” Kelton’s voice came from the black. “OK, Swann? We’re good. Well, we’re not good, but hang in there. I’m coming to help. I have my whole emergency kit. I got the lighter so I can kind of see, but I need you to tell me which way to go until I’m able to see your phone light.”
What was he talking about? “I don’t know. Hunter was leading the way.” She hadn’t been paying super-close attention to their route. “But I guess there aren’t that many turns.”
“Can you remember?”
“If you shut up and let me think about it!” Swann closed her eyes to concentrate, not that it made much of a difference. Dark was dark. “Let’s see,” she said quietly to herself. “Main chamber, splits to right and left at back.” She added, louder to Kelton. “Are you to the back of the first tunnel yet?”
“Yeah.”
“Turn right,” Swann said. “And you’re not going to like this next part but just shut up and listen. I don’t know how far we went down the second tunnel, but Hunter was talking. About you. Start walking while I try to say what he was saying.”
“Seriously?” Kelton’s voice came from the dark. Did he sound closer? It was impossible to tell inside the echoing tunnels.
“Just do it, Kelton!” Swann said. “Hunter said something like . . . Man, that Kelton. Um, I don’t know what happened to him. Or something like that. He said he knew you, um, had some problems at home.” Swann’s cheeks flared hot. This was the worst thing to have to do, but it was the only way she could think to measure how long it took Hunter to lead her to this chamber.
“I think you’re getting louder,” Kelton said. “Maybe I’m closer?”
Swann clapped her hands. His voice was definitely closer. “Then he started talking about how . . .” She couldn’t say this next part. Hunter had joked and complained about how Kelton always tapped his shoulder during study time. “He started talking about the two of you were friends and that you used to hang out more. And—” She could see something! “Hey! There’s some light! I think I see you! Just barely, but there’s something besides total darkness out there. Keep going.”
She peered into the dark toward where she saw the light. But a moment later, all was total blackness again. “Or maybe not. I thought I saw light, but now it’s gone.”
A chuckle came out of the dark. A moment later the dim glow returned. “You see me. I was just burning my finger walking with the flame going on this lighter. I think I see your phone light.”
“Should I come to you?” Swann asked.
“No!” Kelton said sharply. “Stay right where you are or we’ll never find the hole where Hunter fell.”
A moment later, the most wonderful sight, a little yellow flame, and then Kelton’s face with a nod and grim smile. “Hey. Sorry I took so long. Where’s Hunter?”
KELTON LOOKED AT SWANN, WHO HAD SHUT OFF HER phone light to save the battery. Only faint light made her visible, shining up from below. She said nothing, but pointed at a small hole in the floor of the chamber. As Kelton Fielding stared at that hole, time seemed to slow down and the air in the mine grew colder, heavy somehow. He shivered and shook a little with dizziness as hundreds of thought fragments swirled through his mind.
Trapped. Getting home? Dead? Frostbite. His own fault. Dead? Collapse. His fault. Dead?
“Kelton?”
The fear shaking in Swann’s voice hit Kelton like a slap in the face.
He rushed to the hole. On the rocky floor below, surrounded by bits of the collapsed old ladder, Hunter Higgins lay next to the flashlight with his eyes closed and his leg at an unnatural angle. “Hunter!” Kelton shouted. Who cared if loud noises could destabilize old mines? The guy was in trouble. After a moment’s hesitation, Kelton dropped the rope from his emergency kit to the chamber floor, slipped on his gloves, and grabbed the two upright poles of what had been the ladder. A few rungs remained attached to either side. They’d slow his slide.
“Kelton, what are you doing?” Swann said. “You can’t go down there. How will—”
Kelton did his best to wrap his hands and ankles around the poles, squeezing tight as he slid, still too fast, down the poles until his feet hit the rock, sending a sharp tingle through his legs. He wasted no time but dropped to his hands and knees next to Hunter, his ear over Hunter’s nose and mouth.
A tingle of air on his ear and cheek. Kelton heaved a sigh.
“He’s alive,” he said. Kelton had never experienced a sense of relief like that ever before. A weight of terror and guilt had pressed in from all sides inside his chest and head, and now, with the release from the realization that he hadn’t led his old friend to his death, he felt a lightening, almost like he could float them both out of here.
“Oh thank God,” Swann said from above. She was crouched over the hole now, looking down on them.
“But that was a heck of a fall,” Kelton said. “He could be hurt real bad. We have to be careful.”
“What can we do if he’s hurt?” Swann said. “We need a doctor.”
Kelton fixed his gaze on her. “There might not be time. And we gotta figure the chance that nobody is coming for us. I mean, by now they’re probably searching for us, but if we don’t get out of this mine, it’ll take them forever to find us.”
“How are you going to get back up here?” Swann asked. “How will you get him up here? Or should I go try to find him some help?”
“Nobody’s leaving anybody,” Kelton said, sure of that one thing, at least.
“Then how—”
“First I gotta help Hunter. I watched a video about this kind of thing.”
“You watch a lot of videos,” Swann said quietly.
“Yeah, well . . .” How could he explain this without sounding pathetic or like he was begging for a friend? “I’m independent. Mom works late some nights. I’m alone a lot.” He shook his head. Focus, Kelton! “I need to remember the steps. Check for responsiveness. He’s out. Check breathing. Good. Now I have to look for bleeding.”
“Bleeding? What kind of video did you watch?”
Kelton looked the guy over. He checked the dusty rock floor around Hunter’s body. All dry. No blood. “It was like an Army thing. But it’s still good. Except . . .”
“Except what?” Swann asked. “This is the worst! I feel so helpless. I’m coming down.”
“No!” Kelton rose upright on his knees and pointed at her. “Stay up there. You come down, we may never get out of this mine. Ever.” When Swann seemed to accept that, he turned his attention back to Hunter. “The problem with the Army video is that it was telling how to take care of soldiers a guy might find down on a battlefield.”
“Which this isn’t,” Swann said. “Though maybe a war would be better.”
“I’m supposed to gently slide my hands under his body, like slide them under his shoulders, then pull them out and check for blood on my hands. Then push my hands under him a little farther down his back, check for blood.”
“But all of that’s, like, for if a bullet ripped through his clothes,” Swann said.
Kelton frowned, watching Hunter breathe. “Won’t help us much now.”
“That leg,” said Swann.
“Has to be broken,” Kelton said. “But the neck is the big deal here. If his neck or spine are cracked, and I move him, I could paralyze him.”
“Well, how do you check for that?” Swann asked, a hint of panic rising in her voice.
“I don’t know. The video didn’t talk about that much. And in the movies they always put a foam collar thing around his neck.”
Hunter moved his head a little, licking his lips. He took a deeper breath. Then he winced, as if in pain, squeezing his eyes shut and groaning. “My leg. Oh gaw . . . My leg.”
“Hunter, buddy,” Kelton said. “Hey, man, I’m right here with you. Can you hear me?”
Hunter opened his eyes wide, tears welling up. “Hurts, hurts. It hurts. It hurts.”
Kelton leaned over Hunter’s face. “Hunter, stop. Easy. I know it hurts. Breathe deep, and don’t move. The old ladder busted apart. You fell. Been out cold.”
“Kelton?” Hunter asked.
Kelton smiled. “You know who I am. That’s a good sign.”
“You’ll be OK, Hunter,” Swann called down to them. “Kelton watched a whole video about this stuff, and he knows how to help you.”
“My leg . . .” Hunter groaned and bit his lip, tears rolling down his temples. He tried to tilt his head back, but Kelton held him in place.
“Hunter, you have to stay still.” Kelton spoke kind of loudly, trying to get through Hunter’s wall of pain. “That’s gotta hurt bad, but you must stay still. For real.”
“M’kay,” Hunter said, still biting his lower lip and breathing hard through his nose.
“Can you wiggle your fingers?” Kelton asked. Hunter’s gloved fingers wiggled. “Good. Can you wiggle your toes?” Hunter’s feet were in boots, so Kelton was glad when Hunter grunted the affirmative. “Can you move your good leg a little?” Hunter’s right leg moved.
“What about a concussion or something?” Swann asked.
“Right,” Kelton said. He should have thought of that himself. “Hunter, do you know where you are?”
“I’m stuck in a freezing mine annnnnn,” Hunter groaned. His eyes rolled back, and Kelton thought he’d pass out. But Hunter kept talking, rattling off his age, the date, the name of the president of the United States, his address.
“His head checks out,” Kelton said. But Hunter’s left leg was a mess. “I think we can risk moving you, Hunter. We need to get your snowmobile suit off. Check if your leg’s bleeding. It’s broken, but if it’s one of those breaks where the bone comes out through the skin, you could be bleeding out inside your suit.”
“It doesn’t feel like it,” Hunter said.
“I’m not sure you can tell, with all the pain.” He took hold of the zipper near Hunter’s collar, but Hunter put his hands on Kelton’s, tears in his eyes. “I don’t know if I can do it. It hurts so bad.”
“Come on, Higgins,” Kelton said. “You know I have to do this.”
Slowly, Hunter’s hands fell away, and Kelton unzipped and pulled the suit down to his waist. “This part ain’t gonna feel too good. Stick with me, Higgins.” As he started to pull the snowmobile suit down farther, moving Hunter’s legs, the guy’s face went red as he held in a scream. “That’s good, man. We don’t want to be yelling too much in an old mine.” Once he had the one-piece jumpsuit off, he felt a brief surge of panic when he spotted the blood on Kelton’s lower right leg where the bottom of his jeans was pushed up.
“What?” Hunter said. He must have recognized the look of fear in Kelton’s eyes.
But a closer look made Kelton smile. “No big deal, man. You’re bleeding a little, but it’s just a scrape, hardly even a cut.” From his pocket, Kelton produced the roll of bandage from his emergency kit. He worked quickly, noticing Hunter’s extra wince, as he wrapped the bandage around that section of his leg. “That’ll take care of the bleeding, no problem. But this next part . . .” Kelton picked up two of the fallen wooden ladder rungs. “I’m so sorry, buddy.”
“Are you going to put a splint on it?” Swann asked.
“No, no, please, no,” Hunter cried. “I can’t take it.”
“We have to stop the leg from flopping around if we’re going to get you out of here.”
Hunter nodded briefly, and Kelton went to work. He handed Hunter a smaller piece of wood, a split ladder rung. “Bite down on this.” Hunter’s growl was inhuman, from a place of unimaginable burning agony as Kelton straightened his broken leg. He was no doctor, but something definitely felt wrong, kind of lumpy, inside the leg. Flipping out his pocketknife, he cut the knot off one end of his hoodie sweatshirt’s drawstring before pulling out the little rope. Next he took off his belt. It was cheap and a little worn, but it would do for this purpose. He had no time to think about it, but quickly placed two ladder rungs, one on each side of Hunter’s knee, tightly against his jeans. Then he tied the two boards in place with his belt and hoodie drawstring. By the time he was done, Hunter’s muffled howl had ceased and a deep silence fell on the chamber. Hunter had passed out from the pain.
CHAPTER 12
FOR THE SECOND TIME THAT DAY, THE PARKING LOT NEAR the racecourse off Warren Wagon Road was packed with snowmobiles. It had taken a while to assemble everyone involved in the search effort here, and Mike Irons hated having to do this, but he had no choice. In a moment he and Sheriff Hank Hamlin would make an announcement nobody would want to hear.
The rich actors caught up to him before he could reach the bed of the pickup from which he planned to talk to everyone.
“You are the one they call Iron Mike?” the woman said.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“I’m Aurora Siddiq.” She nodded at the worried-looking man next to her. “My husband Amir. Our daughter—”
“Yes, I know who you are,” Mike said. What must these people be going through right now? Mike wanted to scream in frustration for not being able to find his nephew. He didn’t have kids of his own. He couldn’t imagine the anguish a parent must face to know her child was lost out there in the snow. It all made what he had to do much more difficult.
“I understand you’ve been heavily involved in the search for our daughter and the others,” Aurora said. She looked around the snowy parking lot. “I know this is a bad night. That makes it even more important that we find the children quickly.” Tears welled in her eyes. “We cannot give up. Amir and I would be willing to pay extra, considerably extra if it meant—”
“Mrs. Siddiq, I’m going to stop you right there,” Mike said. Why did rich folks always think they could solve all their problems by throwing around their money like this? They’re desperate, he reminded himself. They’ll do anything to get their daughter back. Mike softened. He patted Amir on the shoulder. “Listen. This is McCall. We look out for our own. Swann’s one of ours now. My nephew is also missing. We’re doing everything we can to find those kids. I promise. But . . .” He tugged his beard. “Well, I have to make an announcement now, that you’re not going to like, but the sheriff and I have agreed it’s time. I’m sorry. Truly, I am.”
With help from his friend Hank Hamlin, Mike climbed up in the bed of the pickup, slipping a little on the snowy surface. He took the bullhorn from the sheriff, switched it on, and addressed the crowd.
All right, folks. Quiet down, please. Listen up, everybody. I know none of you want to hear this right now. I sure as heck wish I didn’t have to tell you, but we gotta face facts here. I know we still have three missing kids out there somewhere, and some of you, maybe all of you, are perfectly willing to comb the woods all night looking for them. That’s one of the reasons I love McCall.
He looked out in the crowd and saw Hunter’s father—Mike’s brother-in-law, David—and his other brother-in-law Rick, both looking about ready to throw up from worry. At least Yumi was safe, having a nice sleepover with her friend at the lodge. For once, she and Hunter hadn’t been together. Mike wished Hunter was at the lodge too. He wished he didn’t have to say this next part, which would be tough for everyone, and especially his own family, to hear.
But it’s dark, and this snowstorm is only getting worse. We have no choice but to call off the search for the night.
There was some grumbling in the crowd, but Mike held up his hand and continued.
If we try to keep this up in a storm like this, we’re going to lose more people out there. There’s good odds that the three missing kids are together, and my nephew Hunter is reasonably skilled in the wilderness, so we hope wherever they are, they’ve found some shelter to hunker down for the night. The search will resume at first light. We’ll coordinate everything from right here in this parking lot, so I hope to see you all back here right before sunup. The snow ought to have died down by then. Let’s all go home, get whatever rest we can . . .
