Title: Number 37/ ATF
Author: Heather F
Disclaimers: Not mine, no money made etc.
Warnings: English, grammar, spelling etc.
Acknowledgements: March Challenge…and Mitzi, of course
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Saturday 630am…
Wind howled swirling snow into nearly white out conditions, blocking breathtaking vistas that normally drew visitors in calmer days. The early morning sun lay disguised behind a heavy blanket of late winter clouds. Aspens and Pines bent and creaked under the torrent of blowing snow. In this tempest, amongst the yielding Ponderosas and birch, sat an assortment of trucks. Four wheel drive vehicles of all kinds sat haphazardly in any free available spot. A small snack shack sat off to the left. The triangular racing flags that adorned its entrance flapped and threatened to tear in the wind.
The Channel 2 local news van sat amongst the beat up trucks as if the news personnel were stars themselves.
Small groups of people, men and women alike, teenagers and children huddled working fiercely with equipment while battling the wind. People moved about, curled against the weather. Bundled head to toe in thick clothing covering everything but eyes. Goggles and glasses had the benefit of protecting the eyes. No free skin sat exposed to the elements.
"Well, Gary, its another rough morning for these extreme Nordic skiers," The perky young newscaster spoke into a mike with her back to the wind. The hood of her North Face jacket billowed and threatened to circle and envelope her features. She smiled, her sincerity nearly making it seem as if she enjoyed the assignment.
"Yes, Katie, it's an ugly morning but I don't think these teams even notice the weather." Gary returned in kind, his nose red and eyes tearing. To prove his point, the camera man slowly panned the area focusing on the multitude of people working in and around their vehicles.
"There's Team Wilmington and Tanner," Gary spoke above the wind pointing toward two men hovering near a beat up Chevy pickup. Chains graced all four tires.
"I'm surprised to see them here," Katie answered, though still talking into her microphone, her voice softened as if she forgot her audience.
"I have to agree with you Kate," Gary answered and turned to Tony holding the camera, "Last week Buck Wilmington sustained an injury that would keep him out of today's competition and Vin Tanner has yet to get an ok from his doctor to participate in the remainder of the season."
The news crew struggled to make their way toward the truck, "At one time Team Wilmington and Tanner were favorites to win this years events, but unfortunately circumstances took them out of the running." True disappointment laced the commentary.
"Buck, I see you and Vin have decided to join in today's race," Katie Lehman leaned in close to Wilmington to insure that she would be heard over the wind "I thought your injuries would keep you two down for the season?"
"Well Lil' Darlin' this ole wing of mine took a beatin' a few days back and it ain't quite ready for today. And yup, Vin's knee is still giving him some trouble so he's sitting this one out too."
Katie leaned forward expectantly waiting for an answer….. "So…."
"We got our Alternate to race for us," Vin's quiet drawl pulled the camera over toward him. He ducked his face down under the collar of his coat.
"He's our financial backer as well," Buck noted with a hint of pride. Not many teams had a sponsor. Though their backer did not want logos, their consistent placement in one of the top three spots during competition earned them enough cash to keep their third party somewhat satisfied. Both Buck and Vin realized early on in their fledgling careers as racers, they would squander their winnings on beer, good food and brash celebration parties. Thus, under self inflicted duress, they sought out the advice of a third party. It benefited everyone…until now.
Gary Campbell turned back to the camera, "As most of our local audience knows, in this particular sport Alternates are allowed to step up and participate in races if injuries keep the two team racers from competition."
"Where is this mystery person?" Katie asked. It was known that before competitions most of the participants psyched themselves up by performing strange rituals. Some did Yoga or other forms of meditation, one gentleman was known to do pushups, others paced and still others listened to music. Mr. Wilmington was rumored to engage in other activities of a delicate nature with a female partner. Mr. Tanner oiled his saddle. Strange, perhaps a little unusual, but then again the participants in this morning's race did not stand with your average citizen.
"He's in the truck," Vin cocked his head over his shoulder to the back seat of the pickup, "but don't put'im on TV…he doesn't like it."
Buck nodded seriously, "He's a little temperamental, ma'am." Vin tilted his head at his partner and Buck conceded, "Ok he's a lot temperamental."
The cameraman complied and killed the tape. Katie and Gary leaned against the window cupping their hands and looked inside.
They both backed away at the same time, "He's sleeping…" The statement somehow twisted around to a question.
"He don't do mornin's, ma'am"
"He brought his own pillow?" Gary stared at the two skiers slightly perplexed.
"Nope, that's mine…he won't risk dinging up his own," Wilmington added in way of an easy explanation.
Katie Lehman then took note of the amount of winter gear Team Wilmington and Tanner had stuffed in the front seat, "There's a lot of bulky winter wear in the front?…." her leading tone searched for an answer.
"He don't like snow, ma'am," Tanner answered easily enough as he checked the bindings on some skis.
The Jim Campbell stared at the two team mates, "And he participates in this?" Campbell spread his arms letting the wind batter and whip snow into him.
"Gives'im incentive not to fall," Buck replied easily enough.
Katie, Gary and Tony shared a glance but moved on to the next set of teams. There were a lot of racers today.
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"The racers are gathering at the starting line," Katie's voice rang with nearly uncontained enthusiasm. "Doesn't seem to matter to these people what mother nature throws at them. They'll face anything." Because they're insane…good looking but insane…
"Well, it seems as if Team Wilmington and Tanner are having a little difficulty in rousing their alternate in time for the big race." The camera swiveled to the blue pickup. Tanner was hauling a groggy body out of the back of the truck while Wilmington wrestled a coat on unresisting arms.
"I don't think he's awake," the newswoman spoke softly to her associate. Gary merely shrugged. They watched as Buck and Vin dragged the skier toward the start/finish line.
"Looks like Tanner is giving him some coffee," Katie announced as Vin lifted the tinted visor of the helmet and tipped a steaming Styrofoam cup to the unseen mouth of their racer. They watched as thickly padded gloves unconsciously raised up with the cup dragging a looped ski pole attached to the wrist.
"Well, everyone has their own ritual," Gary replied smiling into the camera, trying to explain the idiosyncrasies of others. "We'll just have to keep an eye on the mysterious number 37."
The racers lined up according to numbers. Number 37, while jockeying to find his spot at the line, slipped latching onto skier 38 who in turned grabbed number 39. A domino effect was started and skiers toppled to their sides into the snow.
The camera crew cringed and watched as the racer's team supporters rushed into the fray and began the daunting task of untangling the sprawling mass of legs, skis, and poles. The two members Team Wilmington and Tanner ducked back into the crowd of bystanders, leaving their racer to fend for himself.
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"And they're off!" Gary's voice hollered with genuine enthusiasm as forty skiers pushed off from the starting line. The racers came in all different shapes and sizes. Poles dug into the powdery earth and skis skimmed lightly over ground. The pack moved as one but slowly began to spread out as the trail twisted and turned through a maze of trees. A five mile, un-groomed course, heaved and wove through forest, up and over the small mountains before twisting back on itself. The race finished where it began.
The extremeness came from the steepness of the inclines, both up and down and the severity of the turns that marred the dramatic slopes.
The camera stayed on the pack for a bit until the main bulk disappeared within the skeletal white curtain of trees.
The support crews for the racers jumped on snowmobiles and headed for the first check point.
The camera crew followed.
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"Here they come now," Katie's excited voice rang out as the first skiers rounded the bend on an up hill climb. 'Heart break Ridge' had been aptly named. Even with snow cats, the climb proved difficult, forcing engines to whine at the exertion. The camera lay fixed at the crest of the hill waiting for the first group of competitors.
Cheers erupted as the first few slowly inched their way over the top and onto the flat.
"It looks like Team Wilmington and Tanner have picked themselves a good Alternate. Here comes number 37 right now trailing behind the favorite, Tim Johnson, number 16,of Braken Ridge." Katie paused as she strained to get a clearer view of the two struggling racers, "It appears 37 is trailing only by a few yards." and to think just fifteen minutes ago he was sleeping in a truck, single handily knocked over six skiers and drank coffee at the start.
The camera zoomed in on the two lead skiers. Tim Johnson held the lead kicking out with his legs in time with his arms. He easily held the advantage over the ungainly but persistent number 37.
"He doesn't have Johnson's style, but whatever he's doing is working," Gary smiled into his mic. Johnson was an egotistical insufferable. Better than average but not good enough to be one of the elite. Though that level of ablilty and of itself, in this sport, was acceptable and even awed. It was his blatant foul attitude toward others that made him unappreciated by others. He was a difficult man to be around.
The only ones who consistently challenged and beat Johnson were Wilmington and Tanner. They normally took first or second leaving Johnson somewhere behind them. Funny thing about Wilmington and Tanner, they never competed in the same race together. They alternated races never entering as competitors. The other teams truly liked the two Denver based skiers. They seemed to have fun where ever they landed.
This mysterious financial backer/alternative raced in as a dark horse. Their alternate, an unknown newcomer, and untested, pushed and tested today's race favorite. It had been thought Number 16 would easily claim today's victory with no true challenge from the other competitors. Team Wilmington and Tanner now seemed on the verge of an upset.
Gary Campbell smiled, it would be kudos to see a no name beat Johnson. "It seems skill and endurance run deep in Team Wilmington and Tanner's camp. To have an alternate push the race favorite in this type of race is unheard of."
"Well, things should get exciting, they're coming up on the Suicide Slide," Katie remarked as she made her way down to the base of the 'slide' leaving her associate near the top. "We'll see if the newcomer can keep up."
The spectators gathered along the sides of the slide. Ribbons with triangular flags kept people off the race way. This was one of the biggest attractions of the race. The incline was steep and the wind had whipped away the light covering of powder revealing patchy ice. Skiers could get incredible speed on this hill if they were not careful. Though it was a race, the small lithe cross country skis did not turn neatly on a dime at great speeds. The Suicide part came into play at the hairpin turn at the base of the hill. To make matters even more challenging, the race path was not a professionally maintained course. It was not unusual for small saplings or fallen branches to mar the trail. In fact, that was part of the race, part off the extreme. If one did not make the turn and flew off the trail, they faced not only disqualification but also a potentially harmful encounter with a marauding tree.
Number sixteen crested the hill. Without pause, he pushed off and started his descent.
"Tim Johnson really knows his stuff," Gary had to concede that the skier was somewhat gifted, "he's taking this hill faster than normal but he's handling it well."
"It looks like there might be a problem at the top of the hill, Gary," Katie spoke and pointed to crest of the hill, "It appears as if number 37 refuses to go down The Suicide Slide"
Sure enough, at the top of the hill, number 37 was gesturing wildly at the incline and shaking his head emphatically. Buck Wilmington faced him from across the ropes and stomped his feet pointing with equal animosity toward the bottom of the hill. 37 backed away from the crest of the slope slapping his ski poles against the snow with undisguised ferocity. Clearly he had no intentions of going over the edge. The 'conversation' lasted only a few moments, with Mr. Wilmington tossing his hat into the snow and stomping on it in disgust. Mr. Tanner suddenly materialized and whispered something quietly and without undo body language to his Alternate.
Without any further argument, the skier pointed his skis down hill and pushed off.
"It seems they have come to some sort of an agreement." Gary stated quietly trying to figure what the Texan had said. He watched as Buck Wilmington picked up his hat, beat it against his thigh and placed it back on his head. Mr. Wilmington looked suddenly pleased. He winked at the camera.
"He's taking it in a tuck!" Katie's voice ricocheted over the mic. She stood at the base of the hill and watched in amazement as 37 folded his hands up under his armpits and careened down the hill side, with no indication of turning.
He passed Tim Johnson. His red and black full faced helmet hid his features. With legs bent and hands curled up close, number 37 whizzed down the face of The Slide like a madman.
"He's insane," Gary Campbell spoke without being consciously aware of it. The crowd cheered as 37 whipped past them at an alarming rate. Maybe someone should contact the EMT's.
"He's not going to make the turn," Katie Lehman's voice whispered out in horrified shock.
"I don't think he cares," Tony answered unconsciously tightening his grip on the camera.
Just as the madman approached the base of the slide, 37 suddenly collapsed to his side and slid the remaining 4 yards down the icy slope. As he plowed through the last patches of loose snow, white powder blew into the air momentarily shielding him from anyone's sight. He came to stop at the edge of the hairpin turn.
The crowd quieted for a span of a few seconds as breaths were held. The dark silhouette of a body could be seen through the white curtain of disrupted snow. The snow dissipated in the howling wind revealing 37 struggling with his polls and pushing himself back up to his skis.
Applause, muted by thick gloves, filled the air as the new leader disappeared down the lane pumping his arms as hard as his legs.
Tim Johnson swore and dug in harder straightening his line of descent trying to make up lost time.
The news crew waited for the bulk of the early morning racers before moving on to the next spectacle. The crew from Channel 2 exchanged bewildered looks.
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"It looks like Team Wilmington and Tanner are having difficulties with their alternate again," Katie's amused voice had others searching the wooded area. The camera bounced and swiveled as the camera man searched for the dueling trio.
The camera quickly settled on 37 as he pointed a ski pole in the direction of the finish line. Wilmington, however, shook his head vigorously and pointed in the opposite direction. In response, the skier bounced on his skis, in a tantrum, and once again pointed, this time with both poles, towards the visible finish line. Wilmington then slapped the poles downward and shoved his skier in the direction of the race course, away from the finish line.
"It looks as if their Alternate wants to head directly toward home." Gary responded squinting his eyes against the swirling snow.
The alternative pushed himself in the direction Wilmington shoved him. As he skied away, 37 raised a solitary finger over his shoulder. Wilmington waved jauntily in response.
"Don't blame him, but he still has a quarter of a race to go." Katie chuckled and directed her snowmobile driver to head for the next visible section. Thank-goodness for editing.
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"Gary, Tony cut to up here….cut to Longing Lola…Number 37 is at the top of Lola," Katie's excited voice had people abandoning the rest of the racers and hurrying to the top of Lola. Longing Lola was the steepest and windiest hill on the track and the last down hill section. It was steeper than The Suicide Slide and had more twists and turns. Its treachery lay not only in the grade and the amount turns but in its astonishingly narrow trail. Trees lined both edges quite thickly. More than a few competitors as well as spectators had fallen to the dangers of Lola.
" We all know that Longing Lola tests a skiers ability to turn," Gary pointed out for those who would tune in for the late news. "It forces control and tests nerves…its not unusual to see competitors actually remove their skis and walk down this particular section."
"And we have learned that skier 37 tends not to turn." Katie Lehman pointed out unnecessarily for their audience at home.
"This should be interesting Katie."
"Ya think we should call the EMT's?" The off camera voice belonged to Tony.
Gary and Katie both couldn't help but agree silently. They checked the sky, silently assessing visibility, would a rescue helicopter be able to land if need be?
"Well, it looks like he doesn't want to go down this one either," Gary pointed out as the skier that led the race since Suicide Slide, refused to point his skis over the edge. Jim Johnson still struggled on the uphill climb to reach the top of Longing Lola. Team Wilmington and Tanner still had some time but not much.
"I don't blame him,…oh wait," Katie sitting at the base, leaned forward, peering up the hill, "I think he's offering his equipment to Wilmington!" Katie squinted her eyes, "Wilmington just slapped him off the side of the helmet!" The incredulous tone matched her expression, "wait here comes Tanner." Maybe Tanner could keep them from coming to blows…though it would probably boost ratings.
The Crowd started chanting "Lola….Lola…Lola"
"Do you hear this crowd!" Gary's excitement rang from the top of the hill. "I can't hear what Tanner is saying but….Look here he comes!….number 37 just pushed off down the hill!" Campbell stepped back from the ropes and watched as the maniacal racer flew by full bore. The news announcer grabbed today's acting leader of Team Wilmington and Tanner.
"Buck Wilmington!" Gary hollered toward the large man who now trotted over toward his team's Snow Cat, "how many falls do you think you're skier will take before reaching the bottom?"
"Mmmm…I'd give him, maybe…. four," Buck answered casually as he straddled the back of his snow cat with Tanner climbing into the driver's seat.
"Three," The Texan corrected quietly. The two agents leaned over the cat and peered down the hill.
Number 37 took his first fall, sliding feet first, over and through small snow drifts. The crowd cheered with each powdery explosion. The dark form disappeared from view only to reappear already on his feet and careening for the next set of hairpin turns. Erupting powder marked his steady if not hair raising progress. 37 fell only two more time before making it to the base of Long Lola.
The crowd's howls drowned out the wind. Number 37 tipped his head to the crowd saluted them with a ski pole and then pumped his way down the next tract.
Wilmington tapped Tanner on the shoulder. The snow cat fired to life and the two members of Team Wilmington and Tanner headed for the last climb to the finish line.
They waved congenially to Gary Campbell.
Number 16 crested the top of Longing Lola and started his own frantic descent. Jim Johnson would not forgo his supposed uncontested victory so easily.
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Katie laughed into her hand as she watched number 37 argue once again with his teammates. The threesome stood at the base of Aneurysm Annie . The finish line sat just a few yards past the top.
"Number 37 is arguing again…." Katie's laughing commentary brought a smile to the cameraman, "I think he's trying to finagle a ride on the Yamaha."
"He don't want to climb that hill," The cameraman whispered with some empathy. It was painful just to look at it.
The camera played on the three men. The skier gestured to the snowmobile on the other side of the ropes. Tanner and Wilmington both sidestepped to shield the cat from their teammate's view.
The crowd lined the hill and once again started chanting, "Thir-Tee-Seven"…."Thir-Tee-Seven." Wilmington shoved the skier on the shoulder and pointed him in the direction of the crowd. The big man leaned over the ropes whispering to the racer while the skier took in the chanting crowd.
Tanner gripped the opposite shoulder and whispered something to their alternate.
With a dramatic sigh, the Alternate once again dug his poles into the snow and started up the hill.
"I wonder what Tanner says to him?" The camera man asked out loud as he rolled tape. Katie shrugged, promising herself she would ask.
As the lead skier pushed and climbed his way to the top, the crowd cheered. 37 occasionally waved to his new adoring fans and continued his ascent.
"He is a confident fool isn't he?" The cameraman shook his head as he guided Katie's Snow Cat up the hill to the finish line.
Number sixteen worked and struggled to close the gap between himself and the persistent leader.
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"Gary, you have got to see this," Katie spoke into her mic. From the finish line while directing her comments to her associate at the base of Aneurysm Annie with the bulk of the racers, "number 37 refuses to cross the finish line." The newswoman laughed outright, "Tim Johnson just crested the hill and is closing the distance but number 37 still refuses to budge the last few inches that would make him the winner of this grueling Nordic event!" Her excitement matched the hysterical cries of the crowd.
The camera stayed glued to Wilmington who jumped up and down in place and waved his arms fanatically. Even without zoom, they could see the obscenities that poured from the red faced man. Still number 37 refused to move. In fact, he crossed his arms and shook his head.
Tanner paced in an agitated manner. It seemed his quiet remarks that had worked so well through the race failed to gain him and his team anything now. The temperamental 37 held his ground.
"I think they are bartering?" Katie leaned forward trying to catch a sound of what the two men were arguing about. "Numbers? Percentages?" She turned to her camera man who merely shrugged, knocking the camera up and downward slightly.
Number sixteen had only four ski lengths to go.
Finally, Wilmington threw his arms up into the air and nodded his head in exasperation.
With a cocky twist of his head, number 37 put his skis across the line, winning the race. Tim Johnson fell to the ground in a close a second.
The crowd roared with jubilation. Katie and her cameraman rushed to interview the winners.
"Why that low down, tight wad….demented son of…" Wilmington's rantings had the newswoman covering her mic.
"Ahh, Mr. Wilmington, your team has won once again….Your alternate, seemed a little hesitant at certain points and even sometimes confrontational."
"Confrontational?!" Buck threw his arms into the air, "why that low down scallywagging, money grubbing, filthy, Son of A…."
"He can be ornery at times, ma'am" Tanner spoke quietly, discreetly blocking his larger partner.
"Especially in the mornings," Buck heaved a great sigh and then turned with a smile once again creasing his face, "but he sure is fast." He gave the prostrate Jim Johnson a knowing wink. Number 16 growled in anger subdued by exhaustion.
"Would we have a chance to interview him?" As a group, they turned and watched as 37 tried to stop at the snack shop and remove his skis. It seemed he must have caught an edge. With arms flaring, he tipped to the side, crumbling into a rack of skis. Both racer and rack spilled to the ground in a cacophony of noise and activity.
"No ma'am," Tanner fired up the snow cat and 'walked' it back to the truck.
"He's real camera shy," Buck smiled, "but you go ahead and ask Ole Buck what it is you want to know about." He padded his chest causing his down coat to billow.
Katie closed her eyes and laughed. Buck Wilmington was one of her favorite interviews.
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Saturday 5:30 pm
Chris Larabee hit the 'Stop' button on the VCR and faced the twilight darkened room. He had tuned in this little adventure earlier this morning, after receiving a call from the Judge himself. It seemed his wife had an interest in skiing events.
Vin and Buck slunk in the couch gripping their respective beers. Standish sat in the Lazy -Z-Boy recliner holding an icepack to his hip with one hand and a microbrew in his other. Occasionally he rested the cold bottle against the cut above his eye. A wound he sustained on his way to get coffee at the little snack shop. A small, self impressed grin lit his face. Larabee stared at his undercover agent in an accusatory manner. Man probably thinks he looks great on Television. Chris swung his icy stare to his two agents on the couch. He held both their eyes…and to think you idiots didn't tell me about this…
JD stared wide eyed at the three, "Wow! you guys do that? That's insane…you've got to be in top shape for somethin' like that, geez Buck I didn't think you could run up a flight of stairs unless a skirt was in front of you." Dunne threw himself back in his chair then shot forward again, "you got room on your team for me?"
"Brother Dunne," Josiah's soft voice quieted the young man, "I would like to think you had more intelligence than that." The profiler let his stern gaze for to the other three juveniles in the room. To race in the middle of a blizzard and up and down slopes made for mountain goats…and not invite us.
"He does drive a motorcycle, Josiah" Nathan pointed out smoothly. If those three idiots drag JD into something like this I'll kill'em…that lazy fool Standish won't walk up two stairs if he can take an elevator but he races on toothpicks through the Rockies...with Buck and Vin as back up? They're certifiable. He nailed the three men with a scathing stare. Next time you had better include us.
The older agent nodded his head in sage understanding. JD would have to be watched carefully.
"I understand your hobbies are your own," Judge Travis stood up and faced the three men. He needed another beer. Mr. Standish, though lacking in common sense when mingled with Messrs Wilmington and Tanner, did have good sense when it came to beer, "but please try and keep your television exposure down to a minimum." He headed for the kitchen, "And Mr. Standish, next time learn how to turn on a hill, you could have embarrassed the whole Federal Government." Maybe next time he and Evie would look into this little pastime. She would love to see the boys compete outside of work. Break up her Saturday mornings.
The end.