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Numbly, I pressed the microphone’s button again and again. Nothing. Not a sound, not a click, not a flutter.
We were so close.
I looked from Boone, to Shane, to Jeremy. Everyone’s face was the same. Everyone’s expression was—
“SURVIVORS THIS IS CERVIGNO STATION…”
The voice coming over the speaker was barely audible. It broke in between bursts of static. We could only just hear it over the wind.
“…REPEAT BACK, OVER?”
The lights behind the dials were slowly dying. The once-precious microphone might as well have been a rock in my hand.
We were holding our breath. Shivering against the cold. And then:
“…SURVIVORS AT THE TOWER… STAY WHERE YOU ARE.”
My heart soared. Somewhere beside me, someone squeezed my hand.
“REPEAT: REMAIN AT THE RADIO TOWER. REMAIN AT THE RADIO TOWER.”
The dials died. There was a whine as the last of the power drained from the chargeable batteries of the old ham unit. Before it did though, two last words droned over the speaker:
“WE’RE COMING.”
Fifty
MORGAN
I had no way of knowing when the first snowmobile showed up, because all sense of time was gone. It could’ve been an hour later. It could’ve been ten minutes.
All that mattered was that it did.
We hugged each other so hard Shane nearly broke my back as the series of bouncing lights beamed into view. One snowmobile… two. Three, four, and five. They roared through the storm, plowing over hills and cutting through drifts. Revving their engines so beautifully, welcomely loud.
One moment we were standing there shivering, huddled around the leg of the ancient tower.
The next we were surrounded by a dozen or more people.
Jackets were thrown over us. Blankets too. I don’t know when we were separated, but suddenly I wasn’t near Jeremy or Shane or Boone anymore. I couldn’t even see them. All I could see were people in bright red jackets, swarming around me. Giving me water… gloves… some kind of scarf. Lifting me up and securing me to the back of a snowmobile, strapped tightly behind the person driving it.
“ARE YOU ALRIGHT BACK THERE?”
I nodded into the driver’s back, making sure he could feel my reply.
“CAN YOU HOLD ON?”
I nodded again, and then suddenly I was being torn away — ripped from our little base camp and thrown headlong into the swirling, churning storm.
Wait…
The little voice in my head cried out, missing the others. Wondering where they’d gone, and if they were okay, and whether or not we were all even going to the same place.
A flash of panic hit me. It cut through all the elation I felt at being rescued.
What if we actually weren’t?
I couldn’t even conceive it — not seeing the guys again. At least not seeing them until we were back on campus, when everything would be totally, totally different.
