Chapter 6: Whiteout

About an hour later, someone walked over.

"Specter, you should get some rest," Anchor said, bundled in his thick parka.

I moved my stiff limbs—it felt like my blood was freezing.

I said quietly, "Wake everyone up. We move in five minutes."

"Roger."

I stood up and walked toward the other team.

Snow saw me coming and stopped, almost as if she'd been waiting.

When I was about thirty feet away, I called out, "We're moving out!"

But Snow just kept standing there, as if she didn't hear. I had to walk closer.

I stopped beside her. She was holding her rifle, those pale green eyes looking right at me.

"What did you say?" she asked.

"We're moving," I replied.

Not far away, a sleeping bag rustled and a head popped out. "Are we starting?"

I nodded, then turned to walk back.

"Are you Digits?" Snow suddenly asked.

"I don't know what you're talking about," I said as I kept walking.

She sighed, a little disappointment in her voice. "Maybe I mistook you for someone else. Every time I see a Ranger, I think of Digits. Good luck out there, Ranger."

I ignored her and walked back to our squad.

My teammates had already packed up and were huddled together, whispering about something.

As soon as they saw me, their conversation stopped cold.

"What were you talking about?" I asked as I approached.

"Specter, are we really moving now? Can't we wait for daylight?" Buzz was rocking back and forth, clearly reluctant.

I looked at Anchor. "What were you just saying?"

Castor yawned. "Buzz said you're a total maniac."

"Bullshit," Buzz shot back. "Specter, don't listen to Castor. We're solid, man."

Anchor glared at Buzz. "Buzz, did you say it or not?"

I just shook my head at their antics.

But my mind kept drifting to that small figure in the snow. I couldn't shake the feeling. Did any of them realize that person was Snow?

"Gather round," I said.

They all crowded closer.

"Anyone notice anything weird?" I asked.

"Yeah, it's too damn cold," Buzz said.

"Shut up."

"Specter, I...," Bolt started, but Castor cut him off.

"Quiet. Listen to Specter!"

"You quiet!" I snapped at Castor. "Bolt, speak up!"

Bolt looked nervous. "I... I don't think there's anything wrong."

My temper flared. "Nothing wrong? What are you talking about!"

I almost wanted to kick Bolt.

Buzz hugged me. "Whoa, Specter, chill out! If you act like this, nobody will dare say a thing!"

I took a deep breath. "That one on watch over there—that's a woman."

"Which one?" Buzz glanced into the darkness.

"A woman?" Castor looked too.

"Yeah, and you all know her," I said.

Reaper stepped up, those sharp eyes locking onto mine.

I met his gaze. "She's the one from that Iceman mission. Her name's Snow."

Buzz scoffed. "Quit messing with me, Specter. You know I had a thing for her."

"The fourth sentry is her," I insisted.

They all froze, same as I did earlier.

Anchor stared at me, lost for words.

Just then, the four from the other side came over, Snow following at the back.

"Alright, we'll lead you to Extremis as ordered. Let's hope for a little luck this time," their team lead said, accent crisp as ice.

I nodded. "Once we find Extremis, leave the rest to us."

So we hit the trail again. The four from the other team led the way, our squad trailing behind in staggered lines—Buzz and Reaper flanking me at about fifteen yards, Anchor and Castor behind, Bolt marking our route from the rear.

I couldn't stop thinking about Snow. If I wanted the truth, I'd have to admit who I was. I figured I'd wait for the right moment.

We finally stopped at noon the next day. The other team's leader called the halt—I wasn't about to argue, since these guys had hunted Extremis before. This time, their main job was to get us to Extremis and let us handle the rest.

After I set the watch rotations, the team lead came over.

"Let's trade," he said, offering a gray food pack—soldier's greeting, field-style.

I turned to Anchor. "Get one of ours."

Anchor tossed over a food pack and we exchanged with a nod.

We showed each other how to eat our rations; a couple of their guys swapped food with my teammates too.

First moment of camaraderie—everybody was eating, laughing, except Snow, who stood off by herself, staring into the wind.

After chow, we all shook hands and retreated to our sleeping bags. Only in the bag could you feel a little warmth. I drifted off quickly, mind still running through Snow's mystery.

I hadn't slept long when someone shook me. "Specter... Specter..."

I opened my eyes to a wall of wind.

Damn, what a gale.

I climbed out of my bag—everything was blinding white.

"Specter, wind's picking up. We need to find shelter," Buzz shouted, crouched low.

I scrambled out. "Where's everyone?"

"They've already pulled back!" Buzz yelled.

Buzz helped me roll my bag up, then we started moving east, heads down against the wind.

The gusts were so strong, if you weren't bracing, they'd shove you backward.

Buzz led the way, I followed, gripping his sniper rifle for support, inching forward.

"Why'd they leave without us?" I shouted over the wind.

"I told them to move, man. You were dead to the world, couldn't wake you up. They kept urging us on, so Anchor led everyone out," Buzz yelled back.

I didn't respond. Deep down, I already knew.

"Next time, don't move out without my order!" I barked.

"Specter, we tried, man! We shook you, shouted at you, nothing worked. They kept pushing us to go, so we had to go," Buzz called.

What's wrong with me? I wondered.

Minutes passed. The wind howled louder.

"Can't go on!" Buzz crouched low, yelling.

I ducked behind him, wind tearing at my clothes.

Just as I was about to speak, Buzz went down, flattening me. We both rolled like tumbleweeds, blown backward.

I grabbed for anything—nothing. I dug my knife into the snow, clawing at rocks beneath.

Buzz disappeared in the white.

I stabbed my arm deep into the snow, blade scraping rock. The wind was monstrous. You could get knocked down flat just standing.

"Buzz! Buzz!" I shouted, but the wind swallowed my voice.

I pulled out another knife, stabbed it down, and finally stopped sliding. Head pressed low, both arms straining, but Buzz was gone.

I curled my legs up, trying to stay low. Then my knife slipped—I was blown over, sliding back again.

I grabbed for the ground, but the snow was too deep, the blade never reached dirt.

Within seconds, snow piled up on me. I was lying flat, still being pushed back.

Were we going uphill? Or was the wind just that strong?

Soon I was completely buried.