She gave him a quick thumbs-up. Her pulse quickened with anticipation as she maneuvered to join the other racers at the starting gate, the roar of engines and smell of oil sharpening her focus. Her hands gripped the handlebars of her snowmobile tightly and waited.
The air was crisp and biting, the kind of cold that stung her cheeks and turned her breath into plumes of fog. Around her, the low rumble of engines filled the still morning, a growling prelude to the chaos about to erupt. To her left, a wiry man with a jagged scar across his cheek revved his engine, sneering in her direction. To her right, a teenager barely out of high school bounced in his seat, a nervous grin plastered on his face.
Ahead of them, the race marshal, bundled in a thick parka, climbed onto a small platform. He held a starter pistol aloft, its sleek black barrel gleaming under the weak winter sun. The racers tensed, their engines roaring louder, echoing through the valley like the rumble of distant thunder. Capri’s heart pounded in rhythm with the machine beneath her, the vibration coursing through her like an electric current.
“Racers, ready!” the marshal shouted into the microphone, his voice carrying over the din.
Capri shifted in her seat, her gloved fingers tightening their grip as she leaned forward, her entire body coiled like a spring. The world around her seemed to fade, narrowing to the path ahead.
The marshal pulled the trigger. A sharp crack split the air, and the blank discharged into the sky.
Twenty snowmobiles surged forward in a synchronized burst of power and fury, engines roaring in an earsplitting crescendo. The track beneath them was packed snow, groomed just enough to hold the weight of the machines. Red tape fluttered on stakes marking the initial half mile of the course. Capri tore down the straightaway, her snowmobile responding to every slight adjustment with precision.
Even through her helmet, the wind howled in her ears, and the roar of the machines was deafening. Adrenaline surged through her veins, her pulse a rapid staccato beat. This was what she lived for—the speed, the danger, the utter freedom of being in control of her own fate. She leaned into the handlebars, her eyes narrowing as she scanned the path ahead.
The red tape disappeared as the racers veered off the marked course and into the uncharted wilderness of Devil’s Staircase. The landscape morphed into a chaotic blur of jagged rocks, towering pines, and icy patches. Capri swerved sharply to avoid a low-hanging branch, cutting in front of another racer in the process. The man yelled something she couldn’t hear over the cacophony of engines, and she smirked beneath her helmet.
She powered through a steep incline, her snowmobile bucking beneath her as it climbed over uneven ground. The machine’s suspension groaned but held steady. Ahead, a jagged outcrop of rocks loomed, and Capri barely had time to react. She shifted her weight, the snowmobile’s skis lifting off the ground as she cleared the obstacle with a bone-jarring jolt. Her heart leapt into her throat, and she let out a whoop of exhilaration.
The path twisted sharply, forcing the racers to weave through a dense cluster of trees. Capri spotted a gap between two towering pines and aimed for it, her snowmobile barely squeezing through. A branch scraped against her shoulder, but she didn’t slow. Only yards away, the teenager from the starting line wasn’t so lucky. His snowmobile caught a hidden root, sending him sprawling into the snow. She didn’t look back.
The roar of engines reverberated through the mountains, mingling with the crunch of snow and the occasional shout from a racer. Capri’s focus was razor-sharp, her senses heightened. She spotted a narrow ridge ahead, a treacherous section of the course that required absolute precision. The edge dropped off into a deep ravine, and one wrong move could spell disaster.
She gunned the throttle, her snowmobile screaming in protest as she sped across the ridge. Snow sprayed in her wake, the powdery mist catching the sunlight like shards of glass. Ahead, the scar-faced man was gaining ground. Capri gritted her teeth and pushed harder, her machine vibrating as it hit its top speed.
The next section of the course was a series of brutal jumps, each one designed to test the racers’ skill and nerve. Capri approached the first jump, a natural ramp formed by a protruding rock. She leaned back slightly, lifting the snowmobile’s nose as she launched into the air. For a split second, she was weightless, the world below her a blur. She landed hard, the impact jarring her bones but failing to slow her momentum.
The second jump came fast, followed by a sharp turn that forced her to lean precariously to one side. The snowmobile’s treads bit into the ground, spraying a rooster tail of snow as she corrected her trajectory. Another racer tried to overtake her, but Capri veered sharply, cutting him off and forcing him to swerve into a bank of snow. She heard him curse loudly but didn’t spare him a second thought.
The path grew even steeper, the incline testing the limits of the snowmobiles’ engines. The sound of revving motors grew louder, echoing ominously off the surrounding peaks. Capri’s arms ached from the effort of steering, but she welcomed the burn. She relished the challenge, the competition, the raw, untamed energy of the race.
Ahead, a particularly sharp turn forced her to brake hard. The snowmobile’s treads skidded across the icy surface, and she felt the back end fishtail.
A curse escaped her lips as she adjusted her weight instinctively, righting the machine just in time to avoid a collision with a boulder. The near miss sent a fresh surge of adrenaline coursing through her.
Then she heard it—a deep, resonant rumble that wasn’t coming from the engines. It was distant at first, almost imperceptible, but it grew louder with each passing second. Capri’s stomach tightened as she realized what it was.
Instinct took over, and she slowed even further.
Like a distant growl of thunder, she heard it again—a low, deep rumble that didn’t belong. Her stomach tightened as the sound grew louder, rolling through the mountains with a force that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere.
The rumble wasn’t just noise. She felt it in her bones, a vibration that passed through the snowmobile and into the ground beneath her. Fear coiled tight in her chest as she glanced up the mountainside. The pristine slope quivered, like a predator ready to pounce. Fractures spiderwebbed across the surface, and with a chilling inevitability, the first wave of snow began to slide.
“Avalanche!” she screamed, her voice lost in the roar. Her fellow racers were oblivious, their machines still roaring ahead. She gritted her teeth, veering off the track, her only thought to escape the deadly cascade before it consumed them all.
6
The roar started as a faint hum, low and deep like the earth clearing its throat. Reva froze mid-sentence, her hand gripping the edge of the truck bed. “What’s that?” she whispered, though the looks on faces told her everyone else already knew.
“It’s an avalanche,” Charlie Grace said, her voice breaking. She shaded her eyes, squinting toward the distant slope where Capri had disappeared.
The girlfriends stood in a stunned line, the color draining from their faces as the mountain shifted before their eyes. A massive wall of snow tumbled down with terrifying force, swallowing the jagged rocks and sparse trees in its path.
“Oh my God,” Lila gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. “They’re right up there!”
Bodhi, standing near Capri’s truck, frantically adjusted the knob on the helmet radio now strapped to his hip. His tan face paled as he pressed the button again and again. “Capri, do you copy? CAPRI! Come on, answer me!”
Static crackled back at him, cold and unforgiving.
