When Ellie went limp, George bent forward, clutched her legs, and added another burst of speed as he ran for the cabin. Air sawed in and out of his lungs, but he couldn’t get enough oxygen. Cramps ripped across his diaphragm, and his legs wobbled. His body had had just about enough of the rough treatment, but panic allowed him to finish his sprint to the cabin’s porch.
The edge of the first porch step caught on the snowshoe, and he crouched to rip open the bindings. Standing proved difficult, but he managed, even with the deadweight on his back. He stepped out of the snowshoes and climbed the last five steps.
The cabin door swung inward, and George took a stumbling step toward the welcoming glow of light. He froze halfway into his forward lurch when he saw the business end of a shotgun pointed directly at his head.
A renewed burst of panic flooded him at the knowledge that Ellie’s head was resting right next to his, directly in the line of fire.
“It’s Ellie!” George yelled, scrambling to put space between her and the gun’s barrels. He teetered on the edge of the top step, barely stopping himself from falling back and landing on El. “It’s your daughter. It’s Ellie.”
His breath rasped in and out of his lungs, his throat tight from exertion and shock. The silhouetted man in the doorway didn’t say anything, but he didn’t fire either, so that was a positive.
“She came to find you.” He forced out the words despite the way talking ground against his throat like a power sander. “You called her, said you were going to her grandpa’s cabin, so she asked me to bring her here. She was caught in an avalanche.” That was almost impossible to say, but for different reasons. Hearing the words out loud made sheer terror flood back into his muscles, making his whole body shake. “I dug…I dug her out, but something’s wrong. She seemed fine, was talking, but then she went down. I carried her here, but she keeps passing out. Something’s wrong. She needs medical care from someone who knows more than me.”
Out of words, George just stood and gasped for air. After what felt like an infinite amount of time, the man in the doorway slowly lowered his gun. George had to resist the overpowering urge to leap forward and disarm the man. This was El’s dad, and he was the most likely source of help, hopefully in the form of a radio.
“I was…I was a medic in the army,” Baxter said, his eyes on where Ellie’s head rested on George’s shoulder. “It was a long time ago, a long time ago, but I used to know a lot about fixing broken bodies.”
“Then you need to fix our girl.” George shoved his way past the older man into the cabin.