Chapter 16

CHAPTER 16 At first Janie wondered if she was even alive. But then white-hot panic shot through her body. Breathe! Breathe! Her nose was jammed with snow. Her lips seemed frozen shut. Snow covered her face. There was just a sliver of space between her mouth and the icy mask of snow. She managed to sip in some

small breaths. But this air wouldn't last long, she knew. How deeply was she buried under the snow? What else lay on top of her? She pictured wrecked train cars. Boulders. Trees. She tried moving her arms. But they were locked into place, like the snow was cement that had hardened around her. Her legs were stuck too. She was buried alive. She tried to scream, but she couldn't fill her lungs enough to make a sound. All that came out was a muffled moan. The weight of the snow seemed to be getting heavier, like a giant was stepping on her. Stomping on her chest. Crushing her bones. Pressing the air from her lungs. It was hopeless, she thought. She'd never make it out of here alive. She was all alone. She felt herself disappearing into the dark. And maybe that's what she should do. For real. And then came the sound of whispered words. I think I can.

A tiny spark flared in Janie's mind. I think I can. Janie tried moving her arms again. Completely stuck. But wait — the thumb on her right hand. She wiggled it, twisted it, scraped the snow until there was more space. Enough so that now her index finger could move. She twisted her wrist, making more space. I think I can. She clawed harder with three fingers, then four. She balled her hand into a fist and pushed with all her might, twisting and turning, ignoring the pain of the snow ripping apart the skin on her knuckles. Her hand throbbed. Blood seeped. I think I can. She pushed harder — her whole arm was moving now, loosening the snow so that she could wiggle more of her body. Her muscles throbbed. I think I can.

Bit by bit, inch by inch, she kept pushing, until finally her hand punched through the surface. Raindrops splashed onto her fingers. She pushed her hand higher. Voices shouted. Someone grabbed hold of her hand, gripped her tight. But by now Janie was barely breathing. Her mind had taken her far away from this snowy mountain wilderness. The whispering voice in her mind disappeared. She didn't hear the shouts of people frantically clearing away the snow and train wreckage that covered her. She didn't feel the strong arms lifting her up or gentle fingers brushing snow from her face. It was many, many hours before she opened her eyes. And when she did, she was surprised to discover that she wasn't in a jail cell, or Aunt Barbara's apartment, or an icy grave beneath the snow. She was in a soft bed, covered in warm blankets. She hadn't disappeared. And she wasn't alone.

Frederick was sitting by her bed, gripping her hand.

Wellington Avalanche Kills Nearly 100 People Deadly Disaster Shocks Nation MARCH 10, 1910 | By Libby S. Wade A deadly avalanche struck the town of Wellington, Washington, early in the morning on Tuesday, March 1. The exact number of dead is still not known, but estimates are close to one hundred. Most of the victims were passengers and crew from two Great Northern Railway trains. The trains had been stranded for six days, trapped by a blizzard that dropped more than 30 feet of snow. The avalanche struck at approximately 1:40 A.M. on March 1, perhaps triggered by an unusual thunderstorm with heavy rains. In seconds, the wave of snow had crushed buildings in Wellington. It then picked up the trains, broke them apart, and swept them off the cliff into a canyon 150 feet below the town. Screams of terror echoed through the night as workers from Wellington rushed into the canyon to find survivors.