"Avalanche" (An SRP; check it out.)

[Male49]

(OOC -- New writers are always welcome. See OOC at bottom for more.)

"Avalanche"​

The first quake was minor and occurred early enough in the morning that most of the guests at "Winter Creek" weren't even aware it had occurred. Thomas Thompson -- "TomTom" to all who knew him -- knew immediately, but only because he was sitting in the ski lodge's Weather Room having breakfast while studying the National Weather Service report about the incoming storm.

To the left and the right, almost simultaneously, alarms at three different stations began screaming for his attention. He tossed the doughnut aside and sucked down the last gulp of warm coffee, then pushed against the floor with both feet, propelling his rolling office chair to the seismic monitoring control panel. He silenced the alarm there, then tapped a finger tip upon the dial associated to the alert; it was a habit he'd picked up while an electrician on old Navy ships, where a bit of manual manipulation -- a tap of a finger or, on stuck valves, a rap of a heavy hammer -- was all that was needed to fix a situation.

This time, of course, his easy fix fixed nothing; they were, in fact, having an earthquake.

He spun his chair and propelled himself again, this time to the avalanche monitoring station. He pressed a finger tip against the touch screen and watched the images appear; one after another after another, the cameras revealed the avalanches rushing down the mountain side toward the ski resort.

TomTom lifted a cover, turned a handle, and pressed a button. Beside him a light began flashing in time with a light tone; but outside, across the extent of "Winter Creek", the avalanche alarms were warning every one of the danger coming...



Gooley Rand came up for air at the sound of the alarm, tossing the bedding back and lifting his head from between the parted thighs of the snow bunny he'd picked up in the Lodge's bar the night before.

"No...!" she cried out, grasping at his head in an attempt to put him back to work. "I'm close, baby! Don't stop!"

Gooley resisted her, craning his head to pick up the horn's specific repetitive signal. Once he knew it meant avalanche, he rolled out of the bed, inadvertently taking the blankets with him and leaving the naked beauty exposed, her thighs still parted, her amazing all natural, god given tits with their unbelievable huge nipples pointing high toward the ceiling.

"What the fuck!" she hollered, grabbing at the corner of the nearest blanket and desperately pulling it back toward her.

Gooley, already at the window, shifting his gaze from left to right toward the Mountain just a mile away, glanced back to his most recent conquest and smiled. "You're beautiful, baby. Whatcha trying to cover up for?"

She gave the resisting quilt a jerk, pulling it to her and beginning to wrap as she answered, "It's colder than shit in here, asshole. What the fuck?"

Gooley turned back to gaze out of the window. "Do you hear that...? Avalanche."

The naked brunette was ignoring him, instead trying to stand while keeping herself wrapped. "Whatever. I'm taking a shower."

As she headed for the bathroom, the crack of her tight little ass exposed by the blankets drooping from her shoulders, Gooley laughed and asked, "Aren't we going to finish."

Inside the bathroom, she turned, dropped the bedding to the ground, struck a pose, and answered venomously, "I have a boyfriend waiting for me back at the lodge, thank you very much. I'm sure he'd love to finish me."

"Sure, if he isn't still passed out on the bar room table," Gooley laughed as the door slammed before her. He began to realize she had been correct; it was colder than shit in here. Quickly, he donned his full skiing outfit, slipped into some snow shoes, checked the window again -- despite knowing that no avalanche from the mountain had ever reached the cabin he rented ever winter -- and headed outside.

It was a brisk morning, with the clear skies allowing the cold air to sweep down into the valley and put a thin, crisp layer over the top of the yesterday's snow fall. The snow crunched under his feet as he walked away from the cabin. And in the distance, past the Lodge, the evidence of the avalanches was obvious ... and frightening. Huge clouds of white -- the loose, dry powder laid down yesterday evening, just after the lifts had closed -- was now high in the air behind and to both the left and right of the lodge ... and coming Gooley's way.

He watched it with fascination, seeing the lodge disappear within the joining clouds. Then, he was suddenly aware of a sound, then motion out of the corner of his eye. He turned to look at one of the other mountains ... and panicked as he found yet another avalanche bearing down ... this time on his cabin.

He turned and ran as fast as the deep snow would allow him to for the cabin. The sound he heard was deafening and, while it still seemed distant, the snow he knew wasn't; depending upon the avalanche, the terrain, the wind conditions, and more, it was possible for an avalanche to reach a viewer -- in this case, Gooley -- before he ever heard it coming.

He had just gotten inside the door and slammed the heavier safety door as well when the cabin was pounded by the cloud of white. The windows on either side of Gooley exploded into the cabin with explosive force, instantly filling the small room's air with a fine, freezing powder.

"Shit almighty!" he hollered, certain the cabin was going to come down all around him. When an ear-piercing scream sounded from beyond the bathroom door, Gooley surged to it and through it open. A cloud of steam, was battling with the rush of powder filled air surging in through the blown out bathroom window. Gooley found his snow bunny standing under the flowing water of the shower, the plexiglas of the door resting on the bottom of the tub. "Are you okay...? Are you hurt...?"

But she was too shocked to answer. Gooley grabbed the plexiglas sheet -- which was out of the frame but unbroken -- and set it aside, checking the naked woman's feet and finding them unhurt. "Stay here! Don't move 'til I get back!"

He returned to the main room of the cabin. Everything was covered in white, but the wind was no longer blowing about. That should have been good news until he realized why the wind was no longer blowing in. The cabin was buried up past the windows! He moved across the room, slipping on the sheen of white that was every where. There was snow piled on the floor before the blown out windows, and the heavy safety door was being held in by just the bottom hinge.

"What's going on...?" his snow bunny screamed. "Where'd you go...?"

Gooley turned and returned to the bath room. The woman was crouched down inside the tub, the water now off and his robe wrapped around her. Her eyes were filled with tears as she sobbed, "What's happening...?"

Gooley took a deep breath, exhaled, and said softly, "I'm thinking that maybe I'll have to finish you ... 'cause you ain't going no where."



OOC:

-- The snow bunny above -- who was not named -- is available for a female writer if you want her.

-- To join, see the Interest check for more information, then PM the host and express your interest.​

 

[Male49]

"Gimme an update!" Martin Beem called even before he got the door to the shack totally open. He stomped his boots atop the grill outside of the door, shedding the majority of the snow from them. He entered and close the door behind him and -- even before the man inside had had a chance to speak -- repeated with a gruff tone, "Update!"

"The big quake measured 5.2," Roger Stackmore began, shuffling readouts around to bring the important ones to the top of the stack, then tapping at keyboards and pressing his fingers to touch screens. "The first pre-shock came at oh-four-twelve. The fifth one, the one that set off the avalanches at Winter Creek ... it came at oh-six-hundred on the button."

"On the button?"Beem asked. "Where'd you learn that term ... Stanford...?"

The young geologist flashed a sheet of paper up before his snide supervisor, pressing his finger to the time in the left column, 0600.01 hrs. "On the button... sir!"

Beem snatched the page away from his young subordinate and looked it over as he asked, this time with a more civil tone. "Damage...?"

Roger returned to the pages and monitors. "Nothing down low. Brookdale, Terrance, Glenwood, East Bridge ... they're all reporting broken glass and interrupted services ... but that's about it. Was listening to the scanner earlier ... no injury reports, which thankfully means no deaths."

"You said down low," Beem pointed out.

The third year geologist, turned and looked Beem straight in the eyes, telling him with a somber tone, "We can't raise Winter Creek at all ... and the epicenter was practically right under the mountain. CAP had a plane up in less than fifteen minutes, and I was able to con them into doing a fly over of--"

"Con...?" Beem asked questioningly.

"Civil Air Patrol doesn't answer to us, Sir," Roger said, his tone leaning toward the annoyed side. "And after that incident last year where you bitched out their pilot for--"

"Yeah, yeah," Beem interrupted. "I remember. I also remember apologizing personally to the--"

"You apologized in person, sir," Roger cut in, turning to glare at his asinine boss. "In private, away from anyone who could hear you ... but you bitched her out over the radio while the press was listening in. It was all over the internet in less than an hour. Was your apology all over the internet in less than an hour...?"

Beem stared at the young man for a moment, then turned to leave -- stopping suddenly and turning to ask, "What did the CAP find?"

"The lodge is buried up to the second floor windows," Roger reported, his heart pounding with anger but his brain telling him let it go, you need this job. "The lifts weren't in operation, yet, so there weren't many people outside. And it looks like the alarm sounded in time for anyone outside to get to shelter. We won't know until we get a radio there."

"Why can't we talk to them?"

"I've tried everything, sir," Roger responded, pulling up another sheet of paper with check marks indicating every type of communication he'd tried thus far. "Cell service is knocked out, they aren't picking up on the sat' phone ... internet is linked to the satellite and land lines, and I can't get anything there either."

"Keep trying," Beem said, turning to leave again.

No, I thought I'd give up and go back to WOW, you dick.

"The Sheriff Department has a pilot on contract," he said, opening the door and stepping out. "I'll see about getting him to take a radio package out and drop it."

"CAP's already on it, sir."

Beem stopped in the open door, not turning but asking, "How'd you pull that off?"

"I told them you'd be apologizing to them," Roger said, the pleasure obvious in his voice, "On the internet."

Beem gritted his teeth ... then headed out into the light snow that had started falling just ahead of a predicted storm.

Behind him, Roger returned to his papers and monitors ... softly chuckling.

 

[Male49]

Greg Kim was standing on the back porch with his date for the weekend while she indulged in her if I don't have it I'll die morning cigarette. She'd hidden her closet addiction from him well, and he hadn't known about it until it was too late to find someone else to feign being his new girl friend.

Happy...? he asked himself for the thousandth time. Was it worth it? You don't like her ... and you don't ski ... and yet, here you are!

Three weeks earlier, on the day classes let out for spring break, Greg's girlfriend -- who he still hadn't slept with -- had sent him a Dear John text without ever having raised any doubts about their six month old relationship. They'd finally decided to sleep together and purchased shares of a weekend house rental at "Winter Creek" and now couldn't get their deposit back -- a thousand bucks, gone with a text that read, simply, This is not working. We should see other people. Not each other. Sorry.

Greg had been absolutely dumbfounded, and devastated to have this happen just before he got his chance to part her thighs. His girlfriend had wanted a chaperone, just in case things didn't go well and she needed a shoulder to cry on. Greg, anxious to get laid, had kicked in the money for two extra shares -- a second bedroom -- as an engagement present for the already getting laid cousin and her beau.

He tried to talk to her -- via cell, text, and email -- for nearly two weeks before she finally answered her phone and told him, "We're finished, so let it go."

When he asked about the "Winter Creek" rental, she blew him away, saying, "I'm still going ... and I won't be alone."

"Well ... I'm still going, too!" he snapped back, adding, "And I won't be alone either! I met someone, too."

"Good," was her quick response, adding just before she hung up, "See you and your girl friend there."

Greg had no one to take with him, of course, but his ego had refused to let him off easily. He spent the next week talking to every girl he met, asking them to coffee or dinner, then telling those who stuck around about the great house in the mountains and the room they could--

That was about as far as he got typically before either getting cussed out, slapped, or just laughed at. Until, finally, the the smoker. She'd been quick to take Greg up on the offer, even saying, "I have a really cute negligee no one else has seen yet."

So, he was going to preserve his honor, have his revenge, and get laid. How could anything go wrong ... right?

Of course, the weekend had been a disaster. His date had miscounted and started her period on the way to the mountain. Then, Friday night, she'd gotten so drunk she'd passed out on the way back to the Rental. Greg and two of the other guys -- there were four couple in all sharing the huge rental -- had had to carry her to the room. The inevitable joke was, of course, that maybe she might not remember it, but at least Greg would.

Of course, the women in the house had been right there, getting the girl into thick pajamas and making a bed for Greg on the couch downstairs. Saturday, it only got worse. The Smoker, it turned out, was an expert skier whereas Greg was lucky to make it down the intermediate runs without killing himself; late Saturday morning, Greg lost her on a run and didn't see her until a Ski Patrol truck pulled up and dropped her off. Greg hadn't been there to see it, but behind his back the other guys in the House were whispering that they'd seen the rig parked down the road for an hour ... rocking to and fro.

Demoralized, he'd given up on getting laid and sacked out after downing a very tall glass of rum. He only awoke when she nearly pushed him out of bed, asking him to join her on the balcony for her cancer stick.

"No thanks," he'd answered with a great deal more politeness than he thought she deserved.

"I'll tell you a secret if you go out with me," she had taunted him. When he again said no thanks, she'd leaned close and whispered, "It's about your girl friend ... you know ... the one in the room down the hall that you've been pretending to hate." In a bit of childish sing-song, she said as she headed for the balcony door, "I ... know something ... you ... don't..."

That had gotten him up, dressed, and outside faster than he'd ever moved to stand in the freezing cold. "Well...?"

"When I'm done," she'd told him.

And she'd made him wait, not just for one but two, slowly inhaled cigarettes.

She drew a last, long drag on the second smoke and tossed it off into the otherwise pristine snow below the deck, then turned to Greg with a knowing look. "Okay ... so ... here's the skinny..."

Suddenly, a voice from the third floor above them called out, "Look! Look!"

Greg looked up toward the voice first, then out toward the mountain. The wall of snow barreling down at them seemed to make no noise, the snow moving almost as fast as the sound it was making.

"Get inside," Greg told his date calmly. When she didn't move, he hollered at her, "Get inside! Tell everyone to get to the other side of the house ... away from the windows and doors. Now!"

As she fled back inside, a woman's face peeked over the balcony at Greg and commanded, "Close the shutters and get inside, hurry! You have seconds!" When Greg looked around, oblivious to her meaning, she hollered, "The shutters ... over the windows ... hurry!"

Greg moved to the windows of the bedroom and unhooked the thick, wooden shutters on each side of the windows. He slammed one pair shut, looking the hook, then turned to look at the wall of snow. He had time, he told himself, and rushed to the second set, closing them as well. He peeked back again, then ran for the third set ... only to realize he didn't have time. He rushed back to the bedroom door, already feeling the shock wave of the air preceding the wall of snow. He just got the door shut as--



When he woke up, pained and disoriented, he was on the floor, on his back, his head supported by the lap of ... of his real girl friend ... and she was looking down at him with concern ... and crying.


OOC -- The above characters -- with the obvious exception of Greg -- are all available. It would be kind of fun to see what kinds of interactions we could get going between these 8 people. (I left the "I know something" details unknown so that you, a female writer, can create something. Also, I didn't speak of any nationalities for the other characters, so you can make them Korean, like Greg is, or anything else you want.