Free Phantoms in the Snow by Kathleen Benner Duble Page B

He didn’t hurry Noah while he packed his rucksack nor when it took Noah several attempts to attach sealskins to his skis in anticipation of what Olaf called “our littleclimb.” But once Noah was outfitted, Olaf had him skiing out of camp at breakneck speed.
    An hour into the hike up the mountain, Noah was weak with fatigue. Snow had started to fall, coming down so fast and hard, Noah could barely see in front of him. The pack on his back felt as if it weighed three hundred pounds, not eighty. Already, Noah could feel the welts from yesterday beginning to reopen. He shifted his shoulders to settle the rucksack on less sore skin, but it didn’t help. And just as it had when Noah first arrived, the air itself was making it difficult to breathe.
    At last, they came to a kind of camp, high in the hills, with military tanks, shooting ranges, and tents. Olaf came to a halt, and Noah skied up beside him, wearily letting his rucksack fall to the ground.
    The snow had stopped. Olaf took off his skis and walked over to a large equipment building. He unlocked a padlock and disappeared inside, returning in a few minutes with a gun.
    “Can you shoot?” he asked.
    Noah looked at the rifle. He had used a similar one in Texas. “Yes, I used to hunt with my dad.”
    “Follow along, then. Take off your skis and come vith me,” Olaf said, walking toward the shooting range.
    When they were several hundred feet from the targets, Olaf stopped. “Let us see vhat you can do.”
    Noah took the gun from Olaf. He raised the gun to his shoulder, aimed at the red center of the target, and pulled the trigger. Nothing happened.
    Olaf’s laughter rang out in the quiet of that snow-covered mountain camp. “Perhaps it vould be best if you vould check for ammunition first?” He took a box of bullets from the pocket of his ski parka and grinned wickedly at Noah.
    Noah snatched up the bullets and loaded eight of them into the gun, shoving each one into the chamber until he heard it make a satisfying click.
    “Oh, the boys vill have a good laugh over this tonight.” Olaf chuckled, as Noah raised the rifle to his shoulder again.
    Noah felt his face grow hot. First Daniel Stultz and now this!
    Concentrating carefully on the target, Noah squinted down the barrel. He shot off five rounds, hitting the bull’s-eye every time. Then he turned toward Olaf, swinging the gun with him until he was looking down the shaft at a spot very near Olaf himself. The threat he posed was unmistakable.
    “Were you saying something before I shot?” Noah asked, his tone sharp and bitter.
    Olaf didn’t flinch. Taking two fingers and lightly turning the barrel of the rifle back toward the target, he grinned at Noah. “I vas just saying that it vas too bad that the boys vill hear
nothing
about this little incident, eh?”
    Noah relaxed. Then, to be sure Olaf would keep his silence, he turned quickly and shot off three more rounds, emptying the rifle directly into the center of the target.
    “And so you can shoot,” Olaf said, as Noah lowered the rifle and looked at him.
    “And so I can shoot,” Noah agreed.
    From now on, anyone who trained him would understand that Noah wasn’t to be fooled around with. He’d show them just how tough he could be. Round one of
this
contest was his.
    “The gun is yours now,” Olaf said, taking the rifle from Noah, walking back to Noah’s rucksack, and tying the rifle to it. “And ve can move on to the next part of your training.”
    He handed Noah his skis and poles again, picking up his own in the process. “You must now learn to crawl along the ground vhen the shots are being fired above your head. You must learn to pull your skis and poles along vith you, as you vill need them vhen you reach your destination. Vatch now.”
    Olaf marched to an empty field with barbed wire in the center of the flat area. He dropped to the ground, tying his skis and poles close to his side with some rope. Then he began to use his elbows to crawl,