Carve - Chapter 1

Carve

The chilling, nearly Arctic wind blew across Dylan's black bandanna, which was wrapped tightly around the lower-half of his face, hiding his nose, mouth, and chin. His rear planted into the snow, he gazed down the steep, intimidating slope before him. With the edge of his board digging into the inches of snow, he wasn't going anywhere anytime soon. Not until he wanted to, at least. At this altitude, the cloud-line was beneath him, form a false ground.

Dylan's frozen, stiff fingers worked at his bindings, cranking repetitively until the pressure of the straps on his boots was just right. The distinct, unforgettable, almost haunting (in his opinion) sound of a board carving through the powdery could be heard as other boarders sped past him. He watched every last one of them descend the slope. Some took the direct route down the run: Straight down. Others traveled in a more enjoyable, and quite frankly entertaining manner; Back and forth, sweeping from left to right gracefully across the wide range of snow. All that remained of their runs were seemingly endless ruts created by their boards.

Slowly gliding to a stop next to him, Dylan's close friend, "Zen" had appeared. Hunched over in the same position as him, eyes covered by fluorescent snowboarding goggles. Neither of them showed any sign of acknowledging the others' presence, but they were both very aware of each other. Not a head turned to greet the other. Dylan spoke plainly and abruptly.

"You're late." Zen chuckled, forearms resting on his knees. He too stared down the slope.

"I'm never in a rush. Even if I'm told to arrive on time." And with that, both Dylan and Zen stood, their full weight shifted to their heels, digging the back of their boards into the snow, preventing them from sliding down the hill prematurely.

No one would expect anything serious to be discussed on the slopes. No business, nothing secretive. As it turns out, the slopes were the perfect place to discuss something important. In unison, both hopped slightly, sliding their boards around to point down the mountain. They began to glide down the slope, not a word being said until they had matched the others speed.

"I'm assuming you spoke with him." Dylan finally remarked as the slope began to level out slightly; their speed slowing accordingly.

"I did. On my way here. He was the one who told me to meet you here." Both of their gazes remained fixed in front of them. Staring at each other all the way down the mountain wasn't necessarily an option, either.

"Stay close." Dylan swerved to right, quickly cutting across the wide run before gliding to a hidden path that cut through the small, forest-like patches of trees that separated the numerous runs around the area.

With the sudden change of direction, the two had picked up quite a lot of speed, swiftly dodging the multiple trees that obstructed the path. The sound of their boards scraping against the layer of colder, tougher ice beneath the feet of snow could be heard, and grew louder. Their voices rose to speak to each other. No one else was around, so they hardly needed to worry about being heard.

"You've seen them around, haven't you? There are countless numbers of them. They travel in groups all over the resort. Dressed in the same blue and black jumpsuits." Zen began to carve quite intensely to avoid an oncoming tree, leaning closer and closer to the surface of the snow, finger dipping lightly into the powder to create a long, soft trail.

"All over the place. Everywhere I look." Both Zen and Dylan's knees bounced as the trail grew rougher.

Eventually, the vast, seemingly endless clusters of trees began to recede, and the pair came to a clearing. They had reached a completely different run. One of less difficulty. Since there were far more beginner skiers and snowboarders than skilled, the two could easily search the area without arousing any suspicions. Dylan shifted his weight backwards, his board sliding in front of him as he carved to a stop. Zen followed suit. Both of their gazes shifted to the group of five boarders quite a ways ahead of them. Of course, it was a group of those who matched the description: Black and blue jumpsuits.

"A few of the others have managed to replicate their suits. They're waiting for them," Dylan motioned to the group ahead of them, "to be lured away. That's where we come in." Zen was wearing a bandanna matching Dylan's, which hid the grin that spread across his lips as he listened.

"You hardly need to say anything more," Zen replied. With a nod, Dylan began to slowly slide forward.

"Great. Follow my lead."

As Zen followed, the two quickly gained speed. From a bystander's point of view, both would surely collide with the group. But just before Dylan could do so, Dylan cut hard, carving away from the group, essentially avoiding them and sending a long wave of powder towards them. To add insult to injury, Zen replicated his actions, literally covering each member of the group in fresh powder. One would think the snow would completely melt off of them, because they were obviously heated with rage as they groaned loudly before brushing off as much of the snow as they could before heading after Dylan and Zen. The task was done, and evasion was their forte. Surely this would be easy for them. "A group filled with our own should be taking their place. Wolves in sheep's clothing." The two laughed victoriously as they continued down the slope, speeding past other skiers and snowboarders.

Their pursuers, who had quickly caught up with the two, were closing in. This didn't go unnoticed. Dylan offered a subtle nod to Zen before they both carved to the right, heading for the trees again. They knew these forests and slopes by heart. They knew every tree, dip, mound, mogul, or stone that could possibly ruin their escape. Dodging the trees effortlessly, neither of them looked back. One after another, the sound of someone colliding with a tree could be heard. They had slowly picked off their pursuers, and as they reached another clearing, only one remained. It was a wonder how the last chaser had made it through the forest. As a last resort, the two crouched tightly on their boards, quickly coming to a large, wide kicker. As the two were launched off of the ramp, two faint trails of glimmering snow were left in the air, slowly floating to the ground below. Gracefully twirling in air, the two landed skillfully and continued to speed down the mountain, out of sight. Their pursuer was launched from the kicker as well, but with much less skill, landing unevenly and tumbling down the slope, showing no signs of stopping. Zen slammed his palm against Dylan's before gliding casually down the slope before reaching the bottom of the mountain. They had lost their pursuers.