And then the explosion happened. Small at first. It wasn’t the size of the charge that mattered, Dr. Fibs had taught us. It was the placement. And Liz had placed that third round perfectly.
Looking back I saw the white plumes of snow fly up on the hillside. The men didn’t even really notice until the rumble began, a low moan that came too long after the charge itself to be a part of the initial blast.
No. This was something different. Not man-made. This was Mother Nature’s way of keeping people off her mountains.
At first, the snow shifted slowly, settling into place. But then it started to grow faster and faster, stronger and stronger, like a tide that swept between us and the men giving chase. Within moments, the mountain was moving—sliding. The avalanche grew and grew, opening like an abyss, cutting us off from the men who had no choice but to turn back. But the tide kept growing faster, threatening to overtake us too.
“Hold on,” Zach yelled. He stood, sending the snowmobile up a narrow, ramp-like rock, shooting us into the blowing snow and raging storm, catapulting us into the dark.
Chapter Twenty-six
The jump didn’t kill us. At least, my first thought was that we hadn’t died. But I didn’t let myself get too cocky about the situation. After all, we might have been off the mountain, but we were anything but out of the woods.
Covert Operations Report
The Operatives utilized a highly controversial, yet effective, exit strategy dubbed “the blow stuff up and run approach” by Operative Baxter.
Operative Sutton was quick to point out that blowing stuff up is perhaps her greatest gift.
Once they reached the bottom of the mountain the Operatives were able to make contact with their Emergency Extraction Team.
What the Operatives didn’t know was exactly who the Emergency Extraction Team might be.
“Are we sure about this?” I asked Zach, low and under my breath.
“I’m sure,” he said.
I’d never seen a night so black (much less at seven o’clock). But so far north in the middle of winter, the clear sky was like a blanket that couldn’t keep us warm. A crescent moon hung overhead, and I cursed its light beneath my breath. At that particular moment, darkness was our friend.
Bex leaned against a tree, her head listing to one side. I expected her to be up and pacing, securing our perimeter, cursing the ticking clock. But she sat perfectly still on the cold ground, waiting.
“Bex?” I asked. “You okay?”
“Right as rain, Chameleon.” She flashed me her trademark grin. “Just enjoying the scenery.”
Macey had her arm around Liz, who was shivering. Preston didn’t ask about his father again. Instead, he stared, wide-eyed, across the frozen waters of the lake, almost like we’d pulled him from a dream and he was tempted to go back to sleep. But Zach kept his eyes on the night sky, watching.
“What if we’re at the wrong rendezvous point?” I asked.
“We aren’t.”
“But—”
He pointed into the distance, and then I heard it: a low rumbling hum. It looked almost like a bird was flying low over the tree line, but it was too big for a bird.
The lights were off. The pilot was going on instruments and moonlight and sheer force of will as the small plane touched down on the snow-covered ice, gliding on skis toward us.
Zach turned to the group. “Let’s go.”
We hunched low and ran across the ice. Liz slid and fell, and Macey reached for her, half-carried her toward the plane.
“Okay, Zach,” I said as we got closer, “are you sure that we can trust this guy?”
“I don’t know,” a boy said, throwing open the plane’s side door and looking down. “Can you?”
“Grant?” I asked. He must have heard the uncertainty in my voice. It had been almost two years since I’d seen him, after all. I thought back to the semester when a small contingency of students from the Blackthorne Institute came to our school. It seemed like another lifetime, and I stood for a moment, paralyzed wondering exactly how we had gotten so far away from school dances and spying on boys.
Someone opened the copilot’s window. “Come on, Cammie.”