Free Exile to the Stars (The Alarai Chronicles) by Dale B. Mattheis Page B

elves.
     
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    The
smell of roasting grouse brought Jeff back from his reverie. Pulling on a wing,
he decided it was done and sliced off a wedge of meat. At the first bite, Jeff
thought he had died and gone to heaven. He ate slowly to prolong the moment and
wished he had knocked over two fool hens. While cleaning up he wondered in
passing, Why were Mom and Dad so upset? Were they afraid that Gaereth might
kidnap me?
    A
sheet of cirrus clouds moved in from the west creating a beautiful sunset over
the mountains. Jeff admired the view and did a mental inventory of warm
clothing. He suspected that the unusually long period of good weather was at an
end.
    Snug
in his sleeping bag, Jeff reviewed what a wonderful trip it had been. Let it
come, he thought placidly. It’s going to take a lot of bad weather to wreck
this hike. And Carl will probably show up tomorrow. It’s going to be great.
    Cirrus
clouds were long gone when he arose. The sky reminded Jeff of aged pewter and
the temperature seemed to have dropped twenty degrees. He stared apprehensively
at the sullen overcast and decided to fuel up with a big breakfast. Before
leaving camp he pulled on a warm sweater. Securing equipment to the backpack
with a second set of straps, he stopped to listen.
    “Where
are all the birds?” he muttered uneasily. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard it
this quiet. Must be one hell of a storm coming.”
    Resigned
to the long climb ahead, Jeff set out toward his meeting with Carl near the
pass. He wasn’t long on the trail when rain mixed with sleet began to fall.
Having grumbled to himself about the nuisance of carrying crampons and
snowshoes, it now felt good knowing they were tied to the backpack. As the
elevation increased, rattling bursts of pure sleet lashed him.
    “This
really sucks!”
    Jeff
arrived at the tree line with light almost gone and in the middle of a
snowstorm. Unexpectedly, the wind had dropped to nothing. He felt his way
through the heavy snowfall looking for a campsite. Every so often he stopped to
listen, something he had done on numerous occasions since leaving camp that
morning.
    “What
is it that’s making me so uptight? No doubt it’s too damn quiet, but there’s
more to it than that. It feels like something terrible is going to happen.”
    Unable
to come up with anything other than the snow and unnatural silence, Jeff
continued searching for a tree to camp under. He stumbled across a big fir that
was perfect and was about to drop the pack when he paused to listen again. The
sense of unease had grown so strong he wanted to shout from the tension.
    “What
are those goddamed mountains up to? This is crazy!”
    It
was deathly quiet. No sound at all, not even a whisper of breeze. Just the
thick veil of gray-white sifting down around him and a gut-wrenching
premonition that the world was going to end any second. Another minute and he
was frantic.
    “Oh,
God! It’s coming! I’m getting out of here!”
    Before
he could move, the ground gave a sharp lurch and began shifting under his feet.
Within seconds, the sound had increased to a bass roar that was mind numbing.
The motion took on a circular pattern and Jeff was thrown from his feet, his
ears buffeted by the crashing roar of trees falling like dominoes.
    Earthquake!
Jeff’s mind screamed. Sprawled on his stomach, he tried to hang on to a ground
that thrashed under him like a beast in its death struggle. Tree limbs, brush,
rocks; all were hurtling through the air, some striking him where he lay.
    Terrified
at the thought of being buried in an avalanche, Jeff clawed downslope on all fours.
A wall of something roared by to the side, inspiring a cry of raw fear. The
earth lunged and he was rolled downhill, debris pounding his body. Another wall
engulfed him and he lost all sense of direction as he ripped down the mountain
head over heels, now buried in snow, now riding the crest like a body