I do a double take to make sure I didn’t misunderstand. No, I didn’t. He really said that. He expects Darrel to make sure he survives so that he can continue to be of service to Monsieur Theodor Delaroche.
Wow.
We keep plodding down the slope toward the valley, hoping to see a village or a hamlet or a cave. The wind batters at us. Here, so high up, there are no trees or buildings, nothing to break it. I try to look out for Darrel, but the snow makes it hard to see in any direction. It falls in thick, blinding sheets. Everything is white—the ground, the slopes, the sky, the air.
Theodor and I take turns at calling Darrel’s name. Visibility is dropping. With every minute that passes, the storm intensifies and visibility narrows.
We press on. I have no idea if it’s been thirty minutes or an hour, and there’s no way I’m pulling my hand out of my pocket to check my watch. I listen to the crunch of snow underneath our boots and to the droning howl of the gale that slaps my face hard every now and then, making my eyes water.
We’ll find something soon. We’ll figure this situation out. Because if we don’t, we’ll die on this mountain.
As the winter sun begins to set, I can barely see the ridge we’re descending. It’s like the mountain has swallowed us up. My ears are ringing now, and the skin of my face is on fire as the frigid air claws at it. I’m an experienced hiker, and I’ve done some cross-country skiing, too, but this is extreme.
A gust of wind hits me hard, nearly knocking me over. Suddenly, I can’t go on. My knees give out and I sag to the ground.
“Get up!” Theodor commands me.
I stretch out. “No.”
“Just a little farther,” he says in a softer tone, hunkering down next to me.
“Legs don’t work.” I close my eyes. “Game over.”
“Give me ten more minutes, and then we’ll rest.”
I force my eyes open. “Do you even know where we’re going? Have you seen something?”
“No,” he admits. “But there’s got to be something out here. Give me just ten more minutes, please! You can do it.”
“I can’t.”
“Are you ready to die?”
I draw a deep, openmouthed breath, swallowing some icy snowflakes. “No.”
He holds out his hands. “Then you can do it.”
I lift mine. He grabs my numb digits and pulls me up to my feet. We push ahead, glancing about for shelter. It’s getting darker by the minute, and the wind is coming at us from everywhere.
And then… a shape appears in the swirling snow, silhouetted against the sky. It’s just a blur, but as I take a few steps toward it, solidifies. A roof. Walls. A house.
“There!” I shout. “Is that a chalet?”
“More like a shack,” Theodor says. “But any port in a storm is a godsend.”
My energy surging, I rush to it with Theodor at my side. He’s right. This tiny log cabin is more shack than chalet.
But who cares?
We thud up the steps, push the snow away from the door, and try the handle.Locked.We bang on the door but no one answers.
“Step aside,” Theodor says to me.
I do.
He unbuttons his coat and gives the door a hard kick just above the handle.Yesss!It opens. We rush inside and shut ourselves in, leaning against the door and breathing heavily with fatigue and relief.
The first thing I notice while my eyes adjust to the darkness is the musty smell. We’ll need to air the cabin. But not just yet. It’s too cold to open a window. Slowly, I make out the contours of a single bed with a sleeping bag on it, a table with two chairs, and a wood stove. There’s a small kitchen area off to one side. No fridge or cooker, but I do see a sink.
