No Safe Haven by Kimberley Woodhouse

misstep, I'll feel the tug. Keep your coat around your waist for right now, but keep your skin covered. Got it?"
    "Got it."
    "Let's go."
    Snow began to fall. He kept their pace slower and more cautious. Snow crunched beneath his boots as his crampons took hold each icy step. If the situation wasn't so dire, he'd be enjoying this trek. Sultana was a steep climb, but she was beautiful. Every time the sun broke through the clouds, the snow turned into a million, brilliant prisms.
    An all-too-familiar sound broke through his reverie. He put up his hand and looked down at the girls. "Stop. Quiet."
    Tearing off his goggles and hat, he strained his ears, listening to every sound. The clouds partially below them now cut off his line of sight, so he focused all his energy on his hearing.
    Then it came . . . the steady thump. Like an airborne heartbeat.
    A chopper.
    "Cole!" Excitement filled Jenna's voice. "Cole! They're here! They're here to rescue us! Go down, let's go down!"
    "No!" He knew that helo. It wasn't rangers.
    The girls stopped in their tracks.
    Jenna stared him down. "Why?" She yanked at her goggles and mask, eyes fixed on his face. She must have read the answer there, because horror filled her eyes and her face drained of color. "No. You mean . . . ?"
    "We need cover, and fast. If they spot us up here, they won't hesitate to kill us."
    Andie and Jenna drew close. Cole checked out the surroundings. About twenty yards east a rock outcropping might provide cover. He prayed the ledge would be enough. His gut told him they were in for more than the girls could handle.
    Pointing to the area, he waited for Jenna's nod. He grabbed the girls' hands. "Okay, dig your crampons in with each step so you have a grip, we're going to move as fast as we can."
    With a deep breath, he charged forward, dragging them along.
    The thwump-thwump of the helo's blades grew closer.
    Each step took great effort. Clunky boots sinking into the deep snow. His arms stretched behind as he pulled and tugged the girls, leaning all his weight forward, the ropes were taut. Just a few more feet. His muscles burned, his lungs starving for air. Just . . . a few . . . more . . .
    Diving for the small area under the rocky ledge, he pulled Jenna and Andie with him. They collapsed in the snow, chests heaving, gasping for oxygen.
    He glanced below. Clouds moved in and out. The helicopter shifted with the wind and snow, but clearly hovered over the crash site. Minutes dragged by. Ten, then fifteen . . . If only he could see!
    A break in the clouds gave him a brief view. Ropes swung below the helo. They must be checking the plane. A curse blew out his lips. It would give away the one card he had left—that Andie and Jenna were still alive.
    A huge blast of Arctic air hit them, throwing them back against the rocks. At least the bad weather was working in their favor. Cole leaned back out to check the chopper. The ropes were being pulled back up as it rocked and swayed in the wind. But it continued to hover.
    Too much time had passed. His brain grasped for escape options. But then, another break in the clouds opened a full view to him. "Oh, no." All the air in his lungs left him in a great whoosh as he anticipated the next move from the enemy below.
    "Cover your ears!" Looking back at the girls, he yanked the ropes closer to him, pulling them in from the edge.
    The short whistle of the missile barreling toward its target preceded a deafening explosion.
    Both girls screamed, their gazes glued to the blast.
    Cole glanced down. A giant fireball exploded and then grew in huge waves of flame and smoke, like an angry beast devouring everything in its path.
    CRACK!!
    The mountain rumbled around them and Cole threw himself over Andie, shoving her as far under the rock as possible. "Jenna!" He grabbed for her, even as his head collided with the massive ledge—and light disappeared.

CHAPTER EIGHT
    ANDIE
    April 7
    Sultana, Denali National Park
    1:59 p.m.
    The snow roared and