In an Instant(24)

“Five,” he says into his headset. “Four responsive, one unconscious.”

“Confirm five. Supposed to be six and a dog,” someone squawks back.

Uncle Bob’s eyes slide to the ground, then return quickly. “The sixth and the dog left this morning,” he says. “He went looking for his mom.”

Mo’s eyes dart to Natalie’s gloved hands, but she says nothing.

Aunt Karen and Natalie are so delirious with being saved that they are oblivious to everything else. They hug each other and cry, blubbering and swearing how they’re never going anywhere with snow again. I wish they would shut up. SHUT UP!

Within minutes, the snow wall my mom, Kyle, and Uncle Bob constructed to close up the windshield is cleared away, and two more rescue workers carry a gurney into the camper. A few minutes later, my dad is carried out and hoisted into the sky. The helicopter does not wait to lift the others before leaving. As soon as my dad is on board, the chopper races away, heading toward a level-three trauma center in Riverside, where a team of doctors is waiting.

A second helicopter arrives a few moments later. Natalie is lifted first, and then Aunt Karen steps forward, but Uncle Bob stops her, saying, “Honey, Mo needs to go next.” Aunt Karen’s face turns crimson, and she steps back.

Once everyone is on board, the helicopter leaves for the hospital. There was a brief discussion about bringing my body along, but it was decided that they would come back for it.

I’m glad. Mo’s been through enough. The last thing she needs is a ride along with my frozen, mutilated corpse.

As they fly, Mo stares out the window, her eyes squinting through the snow at the endless forest, tears streaming down her face as she takes in the vastness and the hopelessness of spotting Chloe, Vance, or Oz.





21

My mom sits alone in the ambulance, waiting for news.

The San Bernardino County Sheriff’s Department is in charge of the rescue operation, and the man running things is a guy named Burns. He’s the kind of man you want to be running things. Medium built with the quickness of an athlete, he has a sharp assertiveness that’s comforting, especially when it comes to dealing with my mom. Half an hour ago, he ordered her to stay in the ambulance and not interfere, and when she opened her mouth to protest, his stern look stopped her.

Burns runs the operation from the back of a sheriff’s van, barking commands to his team with an urgency that conveys the essence of time but without panic. Every few minutes, he steps outside to peer at the horizon, gauging the darkness and the impending storm, both approaching far too quickly.

When he gets the news of the rescue, he hurries across the parking lot to the ambulance and steps inside.

“What’s wrong?” my mom says to the grim expression on his face.

“We found the camper. Your husband is on his way to Inland Valley Medical Center in Riverside. He’s alive, but his condition is serious.”

She squeezes her eyes shut and sighs in relief that he’s still alive. She thinks this is the bad news Burns came to deliver, and it takes a minute for her to realize he’s not done.

“Maureen and the Golds—Bob, Karen, and Natalie,” he continues, “are being taken in a second helicopter to Big Bear Medical Center.”

My mom nods. Burns pauses. Her head tilts.

“Your son isn’t with them. He wasn’t in the camper when we arrived. According to the others, he and the dog left this morning.”

My mom’s eyes widen in confusion. “You must be mistaken. Oz wouldn’t leave. He just wouldn’t. It’s just not something he would do. My son, he’s . . .” She always has a hard time with this, unsure how to describe Oz. “He’s simpleminded,” she says finally. “He doesn’t think for himself that way.”

Burns’s jaw twitches, a small but telling sign of his emotions. “I’m sorry,” he says. “But he’s not with them. The search party has been instructed to look for him as well.”

My mom stares at her red, chapped hands, her head shaking back and forth in either denial or bewilderment or overload.

“The K-9 units will be here soon,” Burns says. “And we still have an hour or so left before we need to stop for the night, hopefully—”

“An hour,” my mom yelps, stopping him. “What do you mean, an hour? My daughter and son are out there. You can’t stop for the night.”

She says nothing about Vance.

“Mrs. Miller, we are doing everything we can to find Chloe, Oz, and Vance.”

My mom flinches as she is reminded that hers are not the only children lost. I do not hold it against her for not thinking of him. I have not thought of Vance since last night, my thoughts occupied entirely with Chloe, Mo, Oz, my dad, and my mom—consumed with mine, mine, mine, with no room left for concern for the others.

“I need to help,” my mom says, starting to stand.

“Mrs. Miller, the best way for you to help is for you to let us do our job and to be here in case we need you. And what I need from you right now is a better understanding of your son—anything that might help us in locating him, in figuring out how he might have gone about trying to find you.”

“He was trying to find me?”

“According to Bob, that’s why he left. So right now, I need you to tell me a little more about Oz.”