Ice Claw Read Online Free PDF Page B

movement he brought the rifle to his shoulder while still skiing at speed.
    “No!” Max screamed, his yell echoing across the valley.
    In an instant both skiers turned their faces in his direction, but the gunman was the first to react. He stopped in a shower of snow. The rifle never left his shoulder, and Max heard the frightening crack of the gunshot.
    The monk floundered and, like a beginner on skis, seemed suddenly disjointed. He stayed upright, fighting the sudden loss of coordination. Max knew he had been hit. And he needed help. Max took off towards the wounded monk, crouching low on his board, his hand skimming the snow to balance his speed. He zigzagged in anticipation of a shot from the gunman, but it never came. Instead, a more frightening roar, like a massive wave breaking on the shore, swept over him.
    The blast of ice-cold air hit his face. It seemed that the whole mountainside roared. The gunman executed a fast, sharp turn away from Max, the monk and the wall of snow thundering down towards him.
    The wounded man looked right at Max. And pointed with a ski pole—the trees! They had to get below the trees ifthey were to have any chance of survival. Max could see the escape route and the monk was already pushing downhill as hard as he could to outrun the mountain god’s wrath.
    Max’s dad had always told him it was natural to be scared, that fear had a purpose and could be overcome. But what he hadn’t told him was that anything could be this terrifying.
    His gasping, rapid breath was drowned by the increasing roar behind him. His muscles ached with the effort of speed and maneuver, but he stayed focused on the spot he had to reach. The mighty fist of wind behind him was pushing him off balance. Max wasn’t laughing now. The avalanche wasn’t any distance away this time. It was raging all around him. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the trees being flattened, snapping and cracking like kindling wood—the snow wave was overtaking him.
    And then the monster hit him.
    Swept into a maelstrom of confusion, he felt his snowboard’s bindings being ripped from his boots. Ice-cold fingers snatched at his face, tearing away his ski mask and, like grains of wet sand, snow was forced into his ears and mouth.
    Memory kicked in. Some long-forgotten lesson from his father. Snatches of words. Survival. All about survival. Remember! Don’t ever go skiing alone in the mountains . Rule one—broken. Never go skiing where there have been avalanches . Rule two—broken. Avalanches happen where there’s new snow clinging to the mountain on the side facing away from the wind. He knew that! He knew it! And he had ignored it all in his stupid reaction to losing the competition.
    As fast as the snow hurled him along, this secret voice in his mind taunted him. Survive! How?
    Swim! Stay on top of the snow as if you were doing a front crawl .
    Max churned his arms, trying to keep his face upwards towards the fleeting glimpses of sky visible through the snowstorm. He spat snow from his mouth, shook his head. Keep looking at the sky! The avalanche’s energy vibrated through him. Like a dog with a rat, it savaged him, shook him and then spat him free. For a moment the silence engulfed him. It wasn’t that the avalanche had stopped but that the wet snow had compacted in his ears.
    A glimmer of hope. Blue sky. A deep breath. His arm lunged for the golden line of light. A sunbeam. A narrow band between the blue sky and the whiteout. Breathe! Suck in the air! Reach for it! Break free from this crushing monster and live! Darkness engulfed him.
    Savage teeth bit into him again as he went head over heels, tumbled left to right. He was totally disoriented.
    Finally the mayhem ended. Max was trapped, spread-eagled. A huge weight crushed his chest. Blue-tinged snow told him he must be lying on his back, facing the sky. How deep was he buried? If only he could scoop away the snow from his face and create space to breathe, but his arms were