Free The Drop by Jeff Ross Page B

together.
    Like an avalanche.
    â€œHope,” I said. “We have to go.” My eyes must have been huge and filled with fear, because Hope immediately began to panic.
    â€œWhat? Why?”
    I grabbed her board and put it in front of her. “Fast,” I said. The rumble was getting louder. An avalanche takes out everything in its path. Depending on how big the avalanche was, this little forested area we were in could be flattened in a matter of seconds. The week before, we’d watched a video of an avalanche. When the video was over, no one said a word. It was one of the most frightening things I’d ever seen.
    â€œAvalanche, Hope,” I said, grabbing her foot and jamming it into the binding. She looked uphill.
    â€œWhere?”
    â€œIt’s coming. I can hear it.” The ground shook. “I can feel it.” We were in a spot just beneath a steep slope. With the angle of the hill and the weather, we couldn’t see much farther than a hundred feet up the mountain. The avalanche would be on us before we knew it.
    Hope got her other foot buckled in. I jumped through the snow to where my board had landed and quickly checked it for damage. One of the edges had popped out slightly, but it was at the rear and faced backward. As long as I didn’t do a 180 out there, I’d be fine.
    â€œGo,” I said. The rumble was getting louder and louder. I expected any minute to see a great wave of snow flowing down the hill. I gave Hope a push to get her started. She shot out ahead of me. I slammed my boots into the bindings, grabbed a tree, pulled myself back and shot forward. I went into a tuck right away and caught up with Hope before we were out of the wooded area.
    â€œTuck,” I yelled. She bent down over her board and leaned forward. I scanned the area beneath us, looking for a spot where there was some kind of tunnel in the ground. We’d been told to look for a ditch—an area that was lower than the rest of the mountain—if we were ever caught in an avalanche.
    And then to stay out of it.
    Get up on the top. As high up as possible. You cannot outrun an avalanche. It’s impossible. Your only real choice is to head for higher ground.
    This part of the mountain was a straight shot though. There was nothing we could do but go down. Hope did a wide turn, trying to slow down.
    â€œHope,” I yelled. “Straight. No turning.”
    â€œI can’t!” she screamed back.
    â€œYou have to. We can’t slow down.” The rumble was deafening. It sounded like a herd of buffalo chasing a mass of rhinos down the mountain above us. Hope cut back in front of me and settled into a tuck. I knelt, keeping as low to the ground as possible and leaning hard over the front of the board.
    And then I looked behind me.

chapter seventeen
    The avalanche had crested the slope and was overtaking the wooded area we’d just traveled through. The trees bent to the ground as the great wave of snow washed over them.
    â€œGo!” I yelled at Hope again.
    â€œWhere?”
    â€œStraight.” The avalanche was catching up with us. It was only a matter of a minute or so before it would be on us. All I could think of was all that snow on top of me.
    Forever.
    Not being able to breathe beneath its weight. Or being dragged down the mountain like a surfer dumped on a reef and then sucked into shore.
    I started scanning the area beneath us again, trying to find a spot where we could get up and above the wash of snow and debris.
    But there was nothing. Nowhere to go but down.
    We entered another circle of trees. This time it was mostly evergreens. We were getting to the base of the mountain, but because of the storm, I had no idea how close we were. Absolutely everything was white.
    Snow began to pass beside us and beneath our boards. The center of the avalanche would be on us any second.
    The slope turned slightly, banking first to one side then the other. At the second