Snowhumps

"Copy. Rescue Hut #1. Rescue Hut #1. We're gonna need more searchers. Over."

"Copy. What? You lost or something? Need Mommy to hold your hand? Over."

"Copy. No, seriously. Brady and the victim's partner are now missing. Over."

"Copy. You on the right trailhead? Over."

"Copy. Yes, dumbshit. Windhill West. Over. It's creepy as fuck out here, and the blizzard is picking up. I mean, there's nothing. No sign of anyone ever being here. Over."

"Copy. I told you something was going on up there. I'm calling it in down the hill. Stay on top of the trail marker. Don't move. Over."

"Copy. Over."

Fuck that shit. I'm not sitting on my thumbs while Brady and two other skiers are in trouble, I thought, as I snapped on my skis. A quick perimeter search looking for clues won't hurt. Grabbing my poles, I pushed off down the hill, where the others must have gone, shushing through the fresh powder pouring from the dark, ominous-looking sky.

Visibility was down to about two feet in front of me, as the wind began howling, pushing against my forward movement. Almost as if it was conspiring with the snow to keep me from finding anyone.

"Damn!" I tripped over something hidden by the falling snow, landing on my face. Wiping my goggles off, I squinted against the snowscape, "What the fuck?"

A broken ski stuck awkwardly out of the snow. Panicked, I clawed furiously through the snowpack, looking for a body, a clue, anything.