Mountains

Ava Kouri’s fingers flew across the keyboard, her eyes fixed on the bank of monitors before her. Lines of code scrolled past in a dizzying blur. Outside the reinforced windows of her laboratory, snow-capped peaks stretched as far as the eye could see, their jagged silhouettes stark against the fading twilight sky. “Run simulation alpha-seven-three,” Ava commanded, her voice echoing in the cavernous room. A moment later, a synthesized female voice responded: “Simulation alpha-seven-three initiated. Processing.” ...

The old truck’s engine sputtered and coughed as Elowen Thorne guided it around the last hairpin turn. Shale Peak came into view, a ramshackle collection of weathered buildings clinging to the mountainside like lichen to stone. She downshifted, the gears grinding in protest, and eased off the gas to let gravity pull the vehicle down the final stretch of rutted dirt road. As she rolled into town, curious faces peered out from behind dusty windows and around dilapidated porches. Elowen kept her eyes fixed ahead, ignoring the stares. She’d grown accustomed to being an outsider in the five years since she’d arrived in this isolated mining community, but the townsfolk’s wariness had sharpened to suspicion in recent weeks. ...

Greta Hoffmann stood at the edge of her balcony, hands cupped around her mouth, and let out a warbling cry that echoed across the Alpine valley. “Yodel-ay-hee-hoo!” Her voice cracked on the final note, dissolving into a fit of coughing. “Verdammt!” Klaus grumbled from his armchair inside. “Must you do that every morning? The neighbors will think we’re raising a herd of dying goats up here.” Greta turned and beamed at her husband, undeterred. “Now, now, Klausy. You know what they say - practice makes perfect! And just think how impressed everyone will be when I master it.” ...

Zara Voss squinted against the biting wind as she guided her battered Jeep along the narrow mountain road. Jagged peaks loomed on all sides, their snow-capped summits disappearing into roiling gray clouds. She’d been driving for hours, the radio long since faded to static, leaving only the rumble of tires on gravel and the occasional ping of sleet against metal. This was what she’d wanted, wasn’t it? Isolation. Anonymity. A chance to lose herself in the vastness of the Rockies and maybe, just maybe, outrun the memories that hounded her day and night. Zara’s knuckles whitened on the steering wheel as a particularly vivid flash hit her—alarms blaring, her copilot’s panicked voice, the sickening lurch as their plane plummeted from the sky… ...

Mira Lawson’s boots crunched over a carpet of pine needles as she made her way through the dense forest. The air was crisp, carrying the scent of sap and earth. She paused, cocking her head to listen. Birdsong filtered through the canopy above, but something felt off. The forest was too quiet. She’d been a ranger at Whispering Pines State Park for nearly a decade, and she knew these woods like the back of her hand. Every trail, every landmark was etched into her memory. But lately, things had begun to change. ...

Dr. Lena Kouri squinted through her helmet’s faceplate at the jagged, sulfur-streaked landscape before her. Jupiter’s swirling mass dominated the sky, its bands of stormy clouds a constant reminder of their precarious position on its volcanic moon. She took a deep breath, savoring the moment as her boots touched down on Io’s surface for the first time. “We’re really here,” Jai whispered beside her, his voice filled with awe. “It’s more beautiful than I imagined.” ...

The wind howled through the jagged peaks, carrying whispers of secrets long buried beneath snow and stone. Lena Reeves tightened her grip on the steering wheel as her battered Jeep wound its way up the narrow mountain road. Flurries danced in her headlights, obscuring the sheer drop mere inches from her tires. She’d come to climb, to push her body and mind to their limits. But as the tiny village of Shadowpine materialized through the swirling white, a familiar unease settled in her gut. The same feeling she’d had five years ago, the last time she’d attempted a climb of this magnitude. ...

Mira Kessler squinted against the harsh glare of sunlight on snow as she surveyed the jagged peaks looming before her. Everest’s infamous northeast ridge stretched upward, a serrated blade of rock and ice piercing the cloudless blue sky. She took a deep breath of thin air, willing her racing heart to slow. This was it. Her shot at redemption. “Beautiful day for climbing,” remarked Dr. Ethan Cole, coming to stand beside her at the edge of advanced base camp. His salt-and-pepper beard was frosted with ice, eyes hidden behind mirrored glacier glasses. ...

Mara Holbrook’s fingers hovered over the shutter release, her breath caught in her throat. Through her telephoto lens, a rare Sierra Nevada red fox peered out from behind a gnarled juniper, its russet fur a stark contrast against the snow-dusted ground. She’d been tracking this elusive creature for weeks, braving icy pre-dawn hikes and endless hours of stillness. Just as she prepared to capture the shot, a distant cry shattered the silence. The fox’s ears pricked up, and in a heartbeat, it vanished into the underbrush. ...

Mira’s crampons crunched into the icy slope as she took another labored step upward. Her breath came in ragged gasps, visible in the frigid air. She paused to adjust her oxygen mask and glanced back at her climbing partner Kai, who was lagging about 20 meters behind. “You okay?” she called out, her voice muffled. Kai gave a weak thumbs-up, but Mira could see he was struggling. His movements were sluggish, and he seemed to be favoring his left leg. Still, they pressed on. The summit of Annapurna III loomed another 500 meters above them - so close, yet so far. ...