Ice Shock(86)
As I prepare to pull myself to my feet, I glance upward. I’m slightly surprised to see a light aircraft circling the top of the volcano. I hadn’t heard it before, over the wind. I point it out to Dad. He looks up curiously. “Vulcanologists, probably,” he says. “They like to take photos of the crater when we get seismic activity around here.”
Then, to our amazement, a tiny figure falls out of the plane. It flips and floats around in a crazy, eccentric manner for a few seconds. A parachute opens, a brilliant blue canopy behind the skydiver, yanking him skyward.
“What the … ?” shouts Dad in disbelief. “That guy is crazy! He’s gonna get himself killed!”
The blue parachute floats gracefully toward the summit. Passing the crater, it turns. We watch, paralyzed with astonishment.
Attached to the skydiver’s feet is a snowboard. The parachute lowers him toward the leading edge of the crater. He suddenly releases the chute. He free-falls and lands on a huge bank of powder snow. There are other climbers close to his position. We’re transfixed with horror as a layer of snow begins to crumble and collapse. The skydiver snowboards right through the chaos. Snow billows around him, almost obscuring him completely. He thunders on ahead, leaving a snowstorm in his wake.
Part of me is thinking that it’s the coolest thing I’ve ever seen in my life. Another part notices that climbers are being knocked down in the first wave of rushing snow.
“That’s done it now,” says Dad. It’s the first time I hear real fear in his voice. “Use your ax to get a hold on the ice. And hold tight, kids! Hold on tight!”
There’s no possible way to make it off the glacier in time. The avalanche doesn’t seem to be headed straight for us just yet, so I don’t quite understand my father’s panic. I hurl my ax into the ice as hard as I can manage. Ixchel does the same. Our eyes meet. We’re both white with fear.
The snowboarder sails across the glacier in one long heelside turn. He swerves out of the path of the tumbling snow. He’s headed straight for us, getting closer by the second. Dad stares in disbelief.
“This guy is out of his mind …”
Only now do I see what’s really happening here.
It’s Madison.
I struggle to pull my ax out of the ice. Dad shouts at me, “Josh! Stay where you are! Leave it there!”
“We need a weapon,” I shout back, grappling with the ax, which won’t budge. My leg feels like it’s on fire from all my twisting movements. I glance over my shoulder just in time to see the snowboarder careering toward me. In one outstretched hand is a knife.
He carves up the snow between Ixchel and me, cuts through our rope with his knife. He flips around sharply, turning back toward me. In the next second, he grabs hold of my backpack, drags me along behind him. The rope attaching me to my father snaps taut for a second. And then I feel his weight added to mine. The snowboarder slows down. He brakes to a standstill. I can’t see his face behind the helmet and snow goggles. Hearing his voice confirms my worst suspicions.
Madison.
“Give me the backpack, Josh,” he yells. “I only want the Adapter.”
He leans forward with the knife, slices at my backpack. One strap breaks free.
Just as Madison reaches to cut the other strap, the volcano shakes—the most powerful tremor yet. I wobble for a second, lose my balance, and then fall flat on my face. When I look up, I don’t even have long enough to dread its arrival; a wall of snow is plummeting down the mountain, headed right for us. The last thing I see is Madison tipping over, falling like a bowling pin.
The roar is deafening. I bow my head and clench my jaw. The snow hits like a massive punch to the face. I’m lifted right off the ground and hurled down the mountain. I’m tumbling, head over heels. Sheer panic floods me. Pain roars like a furnace in my thigh. My mouth and nose fill with freezing dust and snow. I lose all sense of time—my fall could have taken one second or twenty. All I’m aware of is the wild current of terror.
The maelstrom of whiteness dumps me on top of my backpack. I’m somewhere down the glacier, buried in snow. For a few seconds I lie absolutely still, amazed that no bones seem to be broken. I’m covered by at least a foot of snow, but the fact that I can still see sunlight through it gives me hope. I scratch and carve my way out. I push my head and shoulders through the crust of snow, searching for signs of Ixchel, my father, and Madison.
I’m almost at the edge of the glacier’s tongue. Another twenty yards and I’d have been flung into the rock field. The snow has settled over everything. The entire glacier is blanketed with an eerie silence. It’s partly because I’m still muffled with snow. I use my fingers to scoop snow out of my mouth, nose, and ears, and spit out the rest.