Chapter Text
Nearing the end of a forty-eight hour shift High Mountain Ranger Matt Hawkes felt eager to call it a day, and head back to the warmth of the ranger station. Shivering despite the layers he wore underneath his insulated jacket, he carefully edged his way along the perimeter of the ski slope, pausing to catch his breath. Standing part way between the border of the forest, and an outcropping of snow-capped rock which marked the lower leg of the black diamond ski run, the most advanced run on the mountain, Matt slipped his goggles up to rest against his helmet. Peering across the slope, he had to brush windblown snowflakes from his eyelashes.
The morning weather report had called for heavy snow and high winds overnight, but the weather front had subverted expectations by streaming in much earlier than predicted. The frosty, moisture dense air held the promise of worse to come. In just the last hour the wind had changed direction, and was gradually strengthening, swirling the falling snow so that looking across the mountainside was like gazing through a shifting, gauzy curtain.
All day the skies had been blanketed by thick slabs of clouds which had steadily darkened in the afternoon hours, stacking up against the mountain peaks and shutting out the thin sunlight. The slopes glowed pale in the fading daylight as Matt scoured the area for wayward skiers. Most had already heeded the warnings, and headed home once the chair lifts had started shutting down.
Tucked inside his jacket, Matt’s radio crackled. Wedging his ski poles in the snow, he reluctantly unzipped his jacket and pulled the handheld unit out, keying its button.
“Flying Tiger here, say again.”
There came more crackling, but Matt could make out enough to discern it was Probationary Ranger Izzy Flowers calling from the station. “Are you reading this? ...anything...report?”
All trainees in the ranger service served a mandatory year of probationary work. ‘Probies’ handled everything from manning the short wave radio and fielding phone calls at the station’s front desk, to sweeping floors and making coffee. There were no exceptions. Matt had served his own agonizing year before entering his advanced field training, which lasted yet another year. It wasn’t until his third official term of service that he’d become a full fledged ranger qualified to operate in the field on his own. It was a process that required patience, and served to weed out any applicants who couldn’t handle the commitment ranger service demanded.
Izzy was following ranger protocol, running through his set of scheduled check-ins.
“Hey, Izz, I’m up on the black diamond,” Matt said. “Reception’s pretty bad. I sent a few kids down the mountain, about half an hour ago, haven’t seen anyone since. Lift six has already shut down. I’m going to take a last look around and then I am out of here, over.”
Matt waited for a reply, easing the radio away from his ear when another burst of static fizzed out of the tiny speaker. Reception was notoriously bad this high up on the mountain, especially on the north face where Matt was patrolling.
“...only getting every other word. Robin had a report of someone headed up past lift six…the breakaway ridgeline…you could take a look?”
Grimacing, Matt squinted up the slope. He estimated he was roughly forty yards from the ridgeline. Even staying on piste, the marked course laid out for skiers, Matt was on the more difficult section of the black diamond run, and with the worsening weather, it’d be a trial to head that way. But, with a report of someone having been sighted, he was obligated to check it out. It was ridiculously easy to get turned around in adverse conditions, even for experienced skiers.
“Copy that, Pocatello Kid,” Matt replied, using Izzy’s ranger call sign. “I’m on it. Flying Tiger out.”
There was another squawk from the radio that may have been an acknowledgement before Matt keyed it off, and shoved it back inside his jacket, yanking the zipper closed. Reaching up for his goggles, he settled them back on over his eyes. Grabbing his ski poles, Matt turned to regard the steep slope ahead.
The temperature was dropping as the sun fell, and if there was anyone up there Matt needed to find them, and get them down pronto. Pushing his way toward the ridge he leaned into the rising wind, keeping his eyes fixed on the points of reference he could still see. A sudden gust nearly sent him skidding back down the incline as Matt gritted his teeth, barely keeping his balance on weary legs.
Anyone willfully trekking up the mountain in this mess was either lost, or crazy.
“Lost, crazy, or both,” Matt grumbled to himself, and started to climb.