Chapter 4

The drive to Crestwood was a blur of highway and rising panic. Liam gripped the steering wheel, his knuckles white. Every mile he covered felt like a second lost. He tried calling Chloe' s parents, the Moores, first.

Mrs. Moore answered on the third ring, her voice cheerful. "Liam! What a surprise. Are you on your way up with Chloe?"

"No, Mrs. Moore, I'm not," Liam said, trying to sound as calm and authoritative as possible. "I'm calling because I need you and Mr. Moore to leave Crestwood. Right now."

There was a pause. "Leave? What on earth for? The weather is lovely."

"It's not about the weather right now, it's about what's coming," he explained, forcing himself to be patient. "There's an extremely high risk of a major snow avalanche in the next few hours. The entire area is unstable. You need to pack a bag and drive down the mountain."

He heard her laugh, a light, dismissive sound. "Oh, Liam. Chloe called us this morning. She told us you were worried about this. It's very sweet of you, but really, we've lived here for forty years. We know a dangerous snow when we see one. This isn't it."

"This time is different," he insisted, his heart sinking. Chloe had already gotten to them. She had framed his warning as the overanxious worrying of a jilted boyfriend. "I'm a professional. This is what I do. I am begging you to trust me on this. It's a matter of life and death."

"Well, Chloe and her friend Chad are on their way up to ski. They aren't worried," Mrs. Moore said, her tone becoming a little stiff. "I think you're just upset about your little fight with her."

"This has nothing to do with that! It's about your safety!"

"Alright, Liam, alright," she said, her voice now patronizing, as if speaking to a child. "You've made your point. We'll be careful. We'll keep an eye on the sky. Thank you for calling."

"Don't just keep an eye on it, leave!" he nearly shouted into the phone. "Promise me you'll at least pack a bag."

"Yes, yes, of course. We'll be fine. Talk to you later, dear."

She hung up. Liam slammed his hand against the dashboard in frustration. She was just placating him. They had no intention of leaving. They trusted their daughter' s casual dismissal over his expert warning.

He floored the accelerator, the car eating up the miles of winding mountain road. An hour later, he pulled into the small, picturesque town of Crestwood. The scene was sickeningly peaceful. Tourists in brightly colored ski jackets walked down Main Street, laughing and carrying skis. The air was still and cold. There was no visible sign of the impending doom hanging over their heads in the form of tons of unstable snow. No one knew they were on the verge of being buried alive.

Liam parked in front of the quaint, wood-paneled town hall. He ran inside, his breath fogging in the cold air. He had maybe an hour, ninety minutes at most, before the models predicted the avalanche would trigger. He had to make them listen.