The Journey Home by Brandon Wallace Page A

high.
    â€œGrab some sticks and lay them across the top,” Jake instructed.
    Taylor realized what he was doing. “I’ve got something even better,” he said. He unstrapped Brittney’s snowboard from his pack, and positioned it across the middle of their snow pile. “It’s like she knew,” he said above the howling wind.
    â€œYeah,” Jake huffed, placing two sage branches next to the snowboard.
    Once their “rafters” were in place, the boys piled about two more feet of snow on top of them. Jake stood back, panting, and nodded once. “Time to start tunneling,” he said.
    The boys took turns carving out a cave under the snowboard and sage branches. Even Cody pitched in, digging with his little legs, until the snow sprayed up into the air like a fountain. They dug downward, so that the entrance to their shelter was protected from the wind.
    Eventually, exhausted, the boys clambered into their snow house. In the light of their kerosene lantern, their little cave felt almost cozy. The wind still howled and snow was still falling, but now that was outside .
    â€œIt’s almost like an igloo,” Taylor said sleepily. Cody barked his approval and turned circles on the spot before settling down.
    Jake tugged at Taylor’s arm. “We can’t sleep on the snow floor. Come on. We still have work to do.”
    The boys lined the floor of the cave with their ponchos, the ground cloth, and the foil blankets, then spread out their sleeping bags. Jake stuck a twig through the snow roof to make a ventilation shaft. Using more dry twigs from the bushes that grew nearby, Taylor managed to start a fire at the cave’s entrance, and they made hot tea to go along with their cold meal of biscuits, pemmican, and jerky.
    By now the gray pall of evening had spread over the landscape. The snow had eased slightly, but the wind howled like it would never stop. The boys retreated intotheir shelter and walled up the entrance with snow, leaving another hole for air. Then they crawled inside their sleeping bags, huddling together with Cody for warmth.
    Jake hesitated before turning off the light. “Taylor?”
    â€œHmmh?”
    â€œWhat I said before, about this being a piece of cake? That was stupid.”
    â€œMmm.”
    â€œI’m sorry. I just wanted to get back to Mom, but . . .”
    A snore interrupted him. Taylor was already asleep.

    The boys slept fitfully that night. The air inside the cave stayed warm enough, but with only thin layers beneath them, the cold seeped through to their bones. The whistles and moans of the wind woke Jake several times, and he could tell Taylor was awake too from the way he tossed and turned.
    By the time a dim light filtered into the cave, the boys were stiff and cramped. Despite the uncomfortable night, Jake felt defiant and alive, as if he’d faced up to a test and passed it.
    â€œDad’s cabin was like a luxury hotel compared to this,” he groaned, stretching.
    â€œYeah,” said Taylor. “I feel sorry for the Eskimos.”
    They punched their way out of their shelter to find that the wind had finally died down and the snow had stopped. The storm, though, had left two feet of freshsnow piled up across the bleak landscape, and thick fog prevented them from seeing more than a hundred yards in any direction.
    â€œWhere’d the world disappear to?” Taylor asked.
    â€œYou got me,” said Jake, rummaging through the pockets of his backpack. “Hey, Taylor, where’s the compass?”
    â€œDon’t you have it?”
    Jake unzipped another pocket. “I thought you did.” Then he noticed one pocket he’d failed to zip the previous day—the same pocket that had held the compass. His stomach dropped.
    â€œOh no. Remember when we ran for the van yesterday?”
    Taylor shook his head. “Oh man,” he complained. “The map won’t be much use without