Snow has a way of muffling the sound of the world until everything fades into background static. The noise of traffic and people give way to the soft crunch of footsteps. From the moment the first flake falls until the world is covered, the transition quickens the expectation of those who seek tranquility in a deafening world. A snow-covered landscape is the playground of all. The introvert finds solace in the quiet and calm. The child discovers new worlds racing down the avalanche ready cliff face or defending their fort from the coming marauders. The athlete sees a new challenge or a day of rest. The one thing snow doesn’t do is provide anonymity. As each flake is disturbed, by heat or by pressure, evidence is left. A person can get lost in the sea of white, but rarely do they leave no trace. The footsteps faded with each passing minute and they knew they were running out of time.
Callie had been missing for just over 25 minutes when her teacher noticed she hadn’t come back from the bathroom. No one knew she was missing, only that 7th graders tend to wander. Callie, and her friends affectionately known as the Airheads, were more prone to wander than others. At that mark Mr. Sullivan, the Social Studies teacher, called down to the office to see if Callie had turned up at the nurses office. He explained to the tired secretary, who had been dealing with calls from parents asking if school was ending early due to the heavily falling snow, how long she had been gone and her hastily expressed need to go to the bathroom to deal with “girl problems.” It was the school equivalent of a get out of jail free card. Teachers didn’t mess with that explanation. The secretary said she would check with the nurse and call him back.
When she called five minutes later, the secretary sounded concerned. Three other teachers had phoned the office with similar stories. Girls had walked up and asked to go to the restroom. All had now been missing for over thirty minutes. The principals were out searching the building and she would get back to him as soon as she knew more.
Mr. Gerig, the first year assistant principal, was the first to notice the door. It was at the end of a rarely used hallway that ran between the kitchen and the boiler room. He probably wouldn’t have even glanced in its direction, as students rarely even came to this part of the building, but a tendril of cold air caressed his arm as he passed. The door was propped slightly open and a small mound of snow was building on the waxed tile floor. As he walked down the corridor, he expected to find the janitor or a cook standing outside taking an ill-advised smoke break just outside the door. What he found instead were 4 distinct sets of footprints headed towards the woods that ringed the back of the property where the school met the national park. The footsteps were slowly fading as more snow fell and wind pushed across the open space. There was no sign of anyone outside the door and no shelter for over 20 miles in the direction the footsteps led. Mr. Gerig grabbed his walkie talkie to call Ms. Lamb the principal when he noticed the bright red dots alongside the rightmost set of footprints. A note of fear entered his voice as he said, “Ms. Lamb, I need you to come to door 21 as quickly as you can. I am afraid it may already be too late.” He was still staring into the woods when Ms. Lamb arrived.
