The Sacred Vault_ A Novel - Andy McDermott [118]
Perversely, the last few feet were the hardest, the steep, snow-slicked slope offering no handholds. Eddie kicked his toes hard into the frozen scree, dragging Nina after him. His outstretched hand, already numbing, touched something solid.
The wall of the pass. They had made it—
And were no better off. The split in the ridge was barely eight feet wide at its foot - and it acted as a channel for the storm. The vicious wind chill made the temperature plummet. Within moments, the group’s backs were coated in snow and ice, their clothing flapping like flags in a hurricane.
‘Keep moving!’ Eddie gasped. If they stayed in the natural wind tunnel, they would freeze to death in minutes - there was no chance of erecting a tent in time, even if it could withstand the storm. One arm over his face, he reached back with the other to pull Nina along. Kit held on to her backpack, stumbling in their wake.
Now Eddie understood why this part of the mountain had such a fearsome reputation. The pass was an obvious short cut - but if the weather changed suddenly, it could become a deathtrap.
How long was the pass? He lowered his arm, the cold biting at his eyes. Nothing visible except wind-driven snow streaming past.
He squeezed Nina’s hand, hoping to feel her do the same in return, but got no response. Another look ahead as he staggered on. Still nothing visible but the disorienting hyperspace tunnel of rushing snowflakes. He could feel ice forming on his eyelashes, freezing them together.
He used his elbow to find the wall. There might be some nook, a fallen boulder, a tiny cave that could provide just enough shelter for them all to huddle inside until the storm passed. But he felt nothing except solid rock . . .
The wind suddenly changed, blowing at him not from behind, but from the side. A tornado of snowflakes whipped round him. Forcing his ice-crusted eyes open, he looked round. The rock walls seemed no different from the rest of the pass.
Why had the wind shifted? Something was diverting it - maybe even blocking it. Shelter. But he still couldn’t see anything—
He looked up - and found it.
About seven feet above in the eastern cliff was a fissure, a horizontal slash in the rock. Roughly five feet high, and deep enough that nothing but shadow was visible within. If they could all squeeze inside . . .
He turned, taking the icy blast directly into his face as he shouted to Nina and Kit. ‘Cave . . . up there! Nina, climb up!’
She pushed her hood against his. Even that close, he could barely hear her over the wind. ‘Can’t feel . . . hands.’
‘It’s our only chance! Come on!’ He shoved her to the wall. ‘Kit, help her up!’
The two men took hold of Nina and lifted her. ‘Reach up!’ Eddie shouted. ‘Get into the hole!’ She stiffly raised her hands, groping numbly for the gap. Finding it. Eddie and Kit pushed her higher, and she all but fell inside. Realising that the wind had dropped, she crawled deeper into the fissure.
‘You next!’ Eddie told Kit. The Indian said something, but it was lost in the wind. Eddie bent to give him a leg up, taking hold of Kit’s boot with his freezing fingers. Legs flailing, Kit wormed into the tight opening.
Eddie jumped up after him, but the edge of the little cave was slick with ice. His hands, useless lumps of meat, couldn’t get a grip. The storm was sapping his strength by the second - if he didn’t get into shelter very soon, he never would . . .
Kit reappeared in the cave mouth. He knelt and held out his hands. Eddie reached up. Kit grabbed his