The following is a short excerpt from Karen Randau’s novella, Survival Instinct.
As she turned back, she saw that the cargo door on the back side of the fuselage was open. That made her remember that Shannon had mentioned shipping a kayak. But when she started to walk toward the opening to look inside, a crack and a rumble stopped her. What looked like cumulus clouds rolled toward her.
“Oh, my God, an avalanche.” Her stomach pinched when she realized she was cut off from the shelter. There was only enough time to follow her father’s instructions from their camping trip in Alaska: Run perpendicular to an avalanche, he had said.
Swim, she heard her father instruct. She jumped and flailed her arms as the snow hit her from behind and swept her down the iced-over drop-off.
It’s like when we body surfed in San Diego, her father shouted inside her head. But the wave was thicker. Unbearable weight bore down on her. A strap of her backpack broke and pulled her under. Her scarf tightened around her neck.
Her behind scraped against the ice slab. Get back to the top, her father yelled. Fight!
Arms flailing even harder, she braced her feet against something and forced herself up to avoid suffocating beneath feet of packed snow. When she broke through, she loosened the scarf and gasped in air.
The wave had slowed, but it carried her too fast toward the tree line. Her bones would break if she hit a tree, or she’d shatter her skull. She had to survive. Olivia and Angel would never make it out here on their own.