w h a t i t ' s l i k e
t h e d i g g i n g
You carefully move your fingers by bending your hand. You can't even bend your wrist, you are so pinned. But you can bend your hand just enough to get the snow out of your mouth. You realize, you have to be very, very careful.
You think about your wife. "Will I ever see her again?" you wonder.
You think about your little boys, who are 2 and 4 years old. "It's just not right," you think to yourself, again, not even in articulated words. Not like you didn't put yourself into this situation, and not like lots of kids grow up without a father and turn out fine. Not like there's any cosmic injustice going on: a whole lot of people suffer worse blows than this. But you want your little guys to grow up with a daddy.
You consider, "well, if I'm only under a couple of inches of snow, maybe if I yell loud enough, someone - Andrew - will hear me, and they'll come find me faster and dig me out."
You start to yell. "Help!" you scream, as loud as you can. "I'm over here!" "Help."
You notice you are starting to breathe harder. You think, "wow, either I'm making myself panic, or I'm using up my air..."
Bill The Guide (later): "We thought we were digging for a corpse."
You consider, "well, if I'm only under a couple of inches of snow, maybe if I yell loud enough, someone - Andrew - will hear me, and they'll come find me faster and dig me out."
You start to yell. "Help!" you scream, as loud as you can. "I'm over here!" "Help."
You notice you are starting to breathe harder. You think, "wow, either I'm making myself panic, or I'm using up my air..."
Then blackness.
You don't know it at the time, because you are now unconscious. But above you, a dozen souls are digging furiously, hoping that the transponder signal they received is coming from a breathing body.