Shane kept scanning with the beacon receiver, moving across different sections of the debris field. Nothing. No signal at all.
They spread out. Five men with probes, working in a line, systematically checking the debris field.
Flo and Pete kept searching, their patterns less organized but no less desperate. Flo would stop, dig frantically for a few seconds, then move when she found nothing.
Ben forced himself to work methodically. Probe. Step. Probe. Step. Each thrust of the probe might be the one that found her. Or might be another second wasted while Charlie ran out of air.
If she's even alive.
No. Don't think that. She's alive. She has to be alive.
“Focus, Moose,” Bear said quietly. “Stay with us. We'll find her.”
Probe. Step. Probe. Step.
Then Pete started barking. Sharp, urgent, insistent. He started digging frantically at a spot near the uphill edge of the debris field.
“Over here!” Gabe shouted. “Pete's got something!”
They converged on the spot. Ben dropped the probe and grabbed a shovel. Started digging.
Three feet down, his shovel met resistance.
“Careful!” Bear said. They slowed down, using their hands now.
Cloth. Then a hand.
“I've got someone!” Ben's heart hammered. “Charlie?—”
The face that emerged wasn't Charlie's.
Rowan.
Gasping, covered in snow and ice, but alive. His eyes were wild, disoriented. Bear and Gabe pulled him free, laid him on the snow.
“Rowan,” Bear said. “Can you hear me?”
Rowan coughed hard. “Wh-wh-where's V-viv? The ava-valanche separated us—” He was shaking so violently he could barely speak. “Sh-she had her oxy-ge-gen. I had m-mine—” He held up a small portable canister, still clutched in his pale hand.
Bear looked at his watch. “How long ago did it hit?”
“Twenty minutes,” Ben said. “Maybe twenty-five.”
“Then they could still have air,” Bear said. “If she still has the canister. If they're together.”
“Charlie?” Ben grabbed Rowan's shoulders. “Was Charlie with Viv?”
“I th-th-think—I d-d-d-on’t know. Charlie was—” Rowan's teeth chattered. “Ch-ch-charlie was shot. M-m-addie.”
Oh fuck. Fuck!
“Cha-charlie tr-tried to throw hers-s-self over Viv. R-r-right before it h-h-it.”
They're together. Charlie's with Viv.
Relief and terror warred in Ben's chest. If Charlie was with Viv, and Viv had oxygen—they had a chance. But where were they?
“Hey!” Someone shouted from down the slope. “I hear something! Someone's calling for help!”
