One by One(64)

“What did you say?” Rik says, turning to me, frowning, and I shake my head. Tears are leaking out of my eyes, but I can’t tell why.

“Nothing, I’m sorry. Ignore me.”

“Fine, you can come,” Topher says brusquely to Tiger, making up his mind.

“Rik.” We all turn at the voice from above, and see Miranda coming down the spiral staircase too. Her expression is pale, but set. Rik’s face falls. He knows what’s coming, and he’s already shaking his head.

“Rik, you can’t do this,” Miranda says. Her brittle voice seems to crack. She takes his arm, her fingers digging into his jacket. “This is incredibly stupid.”

“Miranda, I’m sorry,” Rik says. His deep voice is very quiet, he’s trying to keep this between the two of them, but it’s impossible, with the rest of us just feet away. “I don’t want to go—but we can’t stay here and get picked off one by one like this. I think Topher’s right. We have to get to the police.”

“But not with him.” She’s whispering, but the acoustics in this room are excellent. I can hear her, so I’m pretty sure Topher can. “Please, please, I’m begging you. Don’t go with him. I’m frightened you won’t come back.”

“Mir—”

“We’ll go together. I’ll get my skis on—”

“You’re not a strong enough skier,” he whispers back. “Please, darling, believe me, I would if I could, but it’s just too—”

“I won’t stay here without you!”

“Oi, what about the other chalet?” We all turn to see Carl, standing in the living room doorway, his hands in his pockets. Miranda frowns, thrown off course.

“What other chalet?”

“That chef, Danny, wasn’t he going to hike out to some chalet earlier? Before all this started.”

I nod.

“He was,” I say. “Chalet Haut Montagne. It’s a big-chain chalet and much more likely to be occupied than the two closer ones, but it’s a trek—a good three or four miles up the valley. That’s why he left it until last.”

“See?” Carl says triumphantly. “Three or four miles, that’s nothing. You could walk that in a morning.”

“I wouldn’t call it nothing,” I say cautiously. “For a start, you wouldn’t be walking it, you’d have to snowshoe, and that’s a really different skill. What with the avalanche, not to mention almost a week of uncleared snow… I’d say you’d be looking at a good three hours snowshoeing. Maybe more if you’d never done it.”

“I reckon it’s a better bet than the resort,” Carl says flatly. “I mean, what’s that, fifteen miles? And steep as fuck. You lose a ski on that boulder field, you’re fucked.”

“I’m not going to lose a ski,” Topher snarls. “For a start, I’m a boarder, not a skier. Second, I’m halfway competent. And anyway—what happens if we get to the chalet and it’s shut up? We’re back to square fucking one. At least we know the resort has people who can help us. No, I’ve made my choice, and I’m sticking to it.”

His irritation doesn’t rub off on Carl, who just gives a shrug.

“Maybe it’s not a choice.”

There’s a long puzzled silence.

“What are you saying?” Rik asks at last.

“I’m saying, it’s not an either-or situation. Look, the strong skiers, that’s you, Toph, and Tiger, try to make it to the village and raise the alarm there. The rest of us’ll try for the chalet. Whoever makes it through, we’ll send a party to rescue the other lot.”

It’s… it’s actually not a bad plan. I can see Topher and Rik looking at each other, thinking it over, coming to the same conclusion. At last Topher nods, like Carl was asking him for permission, though I don’t think he was. We are long past the point where Topher has that kind of authority.

“Yeah, okay,” he says, a little sulkily, acceding to the inevitable.

“Miranda?” Rik says, and she gives an unhappy shrug.

“I—I guess. If you won’t take me with you, it’s better than sitting here.”

“Liz?” Carl says. “How about it?”

For a second, Liz just blinks, like she is startled to be referred to by name. For a moment she does nothing at all—like a frightened animal frozen in the headlamp beam of Carl’s attention.

Then she cracks the tiniest smile and gives a shaky, uncertain nod.

For the first time in a few days, I feel a flare of hope inside my chest.

Maybe it will be okay.

Maybe it will really all be okay.





LIZ


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After so many days reacting to events, it feels good to have a plan. Up in my room I struggle into my faded blue jumpsuit and pull on ski socks and gloves. My helmet and goggles are down in the locker room. I will put those on when we are ready to go outside. One glance out of the window tells me that sunglasses won’t be needed. It’s midday, but almost dark. The sun is barely filtering through the clouds, and the wind is howling like something trying to get in.