Part 5
The phone vibrated against the table while Grant was fastening the support around his knee.
He had been awake for some time. Snow rasped against the windows, and the furnace barely seemed to pause between cycles. Boone stood near the door. Tess had chosen the floor beside Grant’s chair.
Maren didn’t waste time on a greeting.
“A plow missed its check-in. Two road workers aboard. They’d picked up a stranded motorist twenty minutes earlier.”
Grant reached for a pen. “Where?”
“Below the western ridge. We got part of a transmission after a slide blocked the road. The truck was stopped, but we lost them before they gave a reliable position.”
“Any report of injuries?”
“None we could understand.”
His gaze went to the metal box on the kitchen table.
“I have the map.”
“Bring it to the fire station. That’s the staging point. Don’t head toward the slide.”
“I’ll come to you.”
“Good. The slope team decides when anybody moves.”
Grant dressed in insulated trousers, thermal layers, a field jacket, and winter boots. He slipped Arthur’s map into a waterproof sleeve. When he lifted the leashes, Tess began circling.
“Station first,” he told the dogs. “We’ll sort out the rest there.”
Boone stood for the clip. Tess withdrew when the metal brushed her collar, then came back. Grant attached her leash from the side without leaning over her.
The drive took nearly twice the usual time. Snow filled the wheel tracks behind the pickup, and more than once Grant had to slow until he could distinguish the plowed bank from the ditch.
Floodlights shone through the storm at the station. Engines idled outside the open bays. Volunteers carried equipment beneath the lights while reports snapped from radios.
An engine surged nearby as Grant opened the truck.
Tess froze on the ground, belly low. He waited without pulling. Boone stood beside her until she took a step.
Ruth came across the bay wearing a heavy coat beneath a reflective vest.
“They’ve put me in charge of warm drinks and blankets,” she said. “Also instructed me not to organize the commander.”
“Could you take Tess?”
“If Tess will take me.”
Grant led the dogs into a quieter corner. Derek was waiting by a table, his yellow line neatly coiled.
Before he touched Boone’s harness, he looked at Grant.
“He’s support only. If Maren clears a limited area and wants a scent check, I’ll handle him. Until then, he stays behind the field crew.”
“Agreed.”
“No search-dog title earned by showing up.”
“He didn’t bring a résumé.”
Derek clipped the line to Boone’s plain brown harness.
Tess pressed closer when Boone moved. Grant lowered himself beside her, careful of his knee. Ruth sat on a bench a few feet away. She placed Grant’s glove near her boot; Tess had carried it to the pickup and surrendered it only when they arrived.
Derek led Boone toward the equipment bay.
Tess took a step after him.
“Wait here,” Grant said, his hand low.
Boone disappeared behind a county vehicle. Tess’s breathing quickened. A shovel fell somewhere on the concrete, and she jumped, but her feet stayed beneath her.
Grant didn’t shorten the leash.
Ruth touched the floor beside the glove. Tess looked back at Grant, then went to her in three hesitant steps. She lay down by the bench and put the glove between her paws.
Grant waited before transferring the leash.
“Keep her inside this marked section. She might pace.”
“She’ll have company.”
“And people need to leave her alone.”
Ruth looked around the bay. “I can be discouraging.”
At the command table, Maren stood over a current topographic sheet. Her red-orange parka was unzipped at the throat; a radio rode high on her shoulder. A technician indicated the main road below the ridge.
“The slide covers a substantial stretch here. There’s still activity above the cut.”
Maren marked a wider circle. “Their last transmission puts them somewhere below this. Could be off by half a mile.”
Grant laid Arthur’s map beside it.
A pencil line left the village to the south, passed behind the lower timber, crossed a drainage, and curved back toward the road beneath the blocked section.
Maren traced it without touching the old paper.
“Have you been over this?”
“No. He surveyed it twelve years ago.”
“Then tell me what the map gives us.”
“Lower-angle ground through most of this section. Trees between the approach and the exposed face. It avoids the haul road and the open cut.” He pointed to a mark beside the drainage. “I can read his route choice. I can’t tell you what the snow’s doing there today.”
Maren turned to the assessment team. “Check it. Start with the current remote readings, then field observations to the first ridge. Nobody crosses the drainage until we have a report.”
Grant stepped back from the table.
There were bags to carry and hardware to check. He worked through what was needed without leaving the bay. Around him, people watched clocks, radios, and the falling snow.
The first assessment came after roughly twenty minutes. The timbered approach was usable. Wind had filled the drainage crossing with deeper snow.
“Can we establish a protected crossing?” Maren asked.
The answer came after consultation. Fixed lines, controlled spacing, and another assessment on the far side.
“Proceed with the check,” she said. “No field team yet.”
The next wait was longer.
Grant compared his father’s line with the modern contours while volunteers laid out medical kits and excavation tools. At the quiet end of the station, Tess remained beside Ruth. Once she stood and turned toward the bay. Ruth let her look. After a while, she lay down again.
When the second assessment confirmed a safe lower approach, Maren assigned positions.
The slope specialists would lead. Medical personnel would follow. Grant would help establish and work the fixed line, then assist with navigation at the timber bend. Derek and Boone would stay with rear support unless called forward.
Maren caught Grant before he turned away.
“The knee?”
“Usable.”
“That isn’t a limit.”
He took a breath. “Crossing work and lower approach. If it deteriorates, I change jobs.”
“Tell me before it becomes somebody else’s emergency.”
“I will.”
Before leaving, he went back to Tess.
She stood but didn’t drag Ruth toward the equipment bay. Grant touched the side of her neck with two fingers.
“Stay here with Ruth.”
He walked away. Behind him, the leash remained slack.
Outside the village, the team spread into a carefully spaced line. Snow stung the exposed strip between Grant’s hat and collar. Beneath the trees, the wind lost some of its force, and the old service track became easier to read.
Arthur had noted a broken rock formation, a tight stand of firs, and a low shoulder of land. Grant found each in turn. The details were placed where a person coming through poor visibility would need them.
At the drainage, he helped secure anchors to mature trees outside the exposed section. A technician crossed first and established the line. Others followed individually. Grant stayed at the anchor while medical bags and tools were moved across.
His knee began to ache. He altered his stance and worked with more weight on his right leg.
Beyond the crossing, the trees opened enough to compare the terrain with the map.
“The bend is after that downed trunk,” he told Maren. “Then we should reach the road below the rise.”
She checked the modern sheet and waited for the lead assessment before giving the order.
Near the rise, a technician lifted a hand.
The line stopped.
A receiver had picked up a faint transmission. Everyone went quiet while static scratched from the speaker. Beneath it came a fragment of a voice.
The team advanced only after the next section was cleared. Beyond the trees, the lower road should have been visible.
Grant saw a torn limb protruding from packed snow. Farther down, a piece of guardrail disappeared into the debris. There were no lights and no sign of the plow.
Maren checked the receiver, then looked across the broad white deposit.
“They’re transmitting from somewhere under this…”
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