Jon gunned the snowmobile, pushing it hard as they flew across the snow

Jon gunned the snowmobile, pushing it hard as they flew across the snow. Heather was sure the mercenaries weren't going to kill them. They weren't going to get the chance. Jonathan was going to kill them both first. She held on tight, not wanting to look as they moved around rocks and trees. With the three men after them, they couldn't slow down, so all she could do was pray that he really did know what he was doing. She hung on as Jonathan whipped around corners at breakneck speed, making her very glad she hadn't had breakfast yet. This was worse than Aunt Max on her motorcycle!

Jon was getting worried that he wasn't shaking their pursuers. He was an expert when it came to driving these things, but he didn't know his surroundings very well, and that was leveling the playing field. He was willing to bet that if they were in Utah, they wouldn't have the slightest chance in Hell at catching him and Heather.

Several shots rang out and both Heather and Jon ducked lower instinctively. Heather didn't think they were aiming at their bodies, just the snowmobile. She was hoping so at any rate. Jonathan was slowly starting to pull away, and the men were getting more and more desperate. They knew they better not return empty-handed.

Heather knew if they were going to try shooting, then they had to be desperate. She was far too valuable alive for them to be risking hitting her by accident. Desperate men were far more dangerous. Her mother had taught her that. She glanced back, and the snowmobile to the right was the easiest to see even with her enhanced vision. She concentrated on the controls, seeing them in her mind as well as eyes. Adrenaline was surging through her, helping to boost her abilities, expanding them further than she ever thought possible. There was a flash of pain, sharp but ignorable in her keyed-up state, as she visualized fingers loosening, unable to grip, the controls twisting wildly beneath the slack hands.

They couldn't hear the startled yelp of the man on the right as his machine suddenly came alive in his hands, the controls suddenly turning out of control, his hands traitorously refusing to cooperate and regain control over the snowmobile. It jerked hard to the left, narrowly missing his companion. One skid came off of the ground slightly, caught a rock, and then the whole thing flipped over in a spray of snow, plastic and metal.

Heather grinned as she watched the "accident". It had to be one of the coolest tricks she had done, but she knew it was going to have to be a one-shot deal. Doing it again might cause more than a mere flash of pain, and this would be a very bad time to be incapacitated. Uncle Cole was nowhere around to save her this time. She was saving herself from now on.

Jon risked a glance back when he heard the noise from the crash. For a brief second he could see Heather's face, and she was looking far too pleased with herself, almost like she had managed to cause it. Impossible that she had…but then again, it was impossible that her uncle knew to call him Jon instead of Jonathan. Too many questions, but one thing was for certain. If he didn't lose the other two, he wasn't going to live long enough to get any answers.

Another shot rang out, and Heather heard it hit home as it tore through the plastic and metal of the snowmobile. A muffled curse escaped Jonathan as his wounded snowmobile started to lose power. The crash had slowed the other two for a bit, but in mere moments they were going to be on top of Jon and Heather now. Jon glanced over to his right and made a fast assessment of his surroundings. There was a very steep ridge, far to steep to use a snowmobile on, but for an expert skier…

He twisted the controls hard, nearly making the snowmobile tumble on its side. Both he and Heather counterbalanced, Heather instinctively using telekinesis to push down on the skid that was trying to lift up, and the snowmobile made the turn without throwing them both off the side.

"Are you crazy?" Heather screamed as they whipped through a clump of trees. He really was going kill them long before the bad guys could. Jon knew he wasn't crazy quite yet, although this day might drive him there, but he did need to buy just a few extra seconds, and his maneuvering might have just worked. He skidded to a stop near the ridge and jumped off, tearing his skis loose from the crippled snowmobile. Heather got off as well. She was shaking a little from the wild ride; it certainly was different when you were the passenger, not the driver. What was he doing now?

"Jonathan?" she questioned him, hearing the other snowmobile approaching rapidly.

"They can't follow us down there," he said quickly. She looked at the skis and then the ridge and understood. Two years before, tandem skis had become all the rage. Two people could ski together on them. It was far more difficult, but supposedly you could go downhill faster as you went, and it was more fun like that.

Search and Rescue had started to use tandem skis so that if they were on "foot", they could tow someone back. Jon and a friend of his had spent most of last winter learning how to use the things properly. As long as Heather kept her balance and held on to him, they should be able to get away. The slope was very steep and littered with rocks and trees. Only an expert would even think about daring it.

Jon's skis and boots were a set, a gift from his uncle for his birthday the year before. They mag locked together, so that all you had to do was step on them and they locked so that there was no way your skis were getting loose. A switch would deactivate the lock when you were ready to get off, and there was a manual lock for the lead and tandem skier in case one or both didn't have the locking boots.

Jon dropped the skis to the ground, and grabbed Heather, pulling her onto them. She got the hint and snapped the locking mechanism around her boots. She was just going to have to trust Jonathan's skill at this point. She wanted to stand her ground and just kick butt when the two men remaining got to them. She knew she could take them with little problem. But, she had to think about Jonathan's safety before what she wanted to do. He couldn't dodge bullets. She would get free, but he would get hurt or maybe even killed. She didn't like the thought of running, but now she was starting to understand what Uncle Cole meant by tactical retreat. It sucked, but it was the wisest of the options.

Jon grabbed his GPS map from the snowmobile and then had himself hooked into his skis in a flash. He pushed them off and heading down the slope, much more slowly than a single person at first, but faster as their combined weight increased the momentum. In a matter of seconds they were moving at near-suicidal speeds. Jon knew now he was in his element. This had always been what he loved best. The wind was tearing at them; there were only fractions of a second to make decisions that meant the difference between life and death. He was glad to still have his goggles, but at these speeds things were still slightly blurred anyways. The rush was incredible!

Heather held onto Jonathan, her movements guiding his. Anyone less coordinated might have tipped them trying to overbalance, but she made herself relax and let Jonathan lead the way. Besides, cats were well known for their coordination. She finally risked a glance back, her immediate curse, something about a goat, being ripped away by the wind.

"We still have one!" she yelled.

Jon knew better than to look back. At these speeds it would be suicide. He scanned the slope ahead, looking for something, anything that would trip the guy up. Then, over to the left, there it was. He saw the tool he could use. To the average person, even someone who knew how to ski very well, it looked like a patch of freshly fallen snow. To a person trained in search and rescue, it looked like an avalanche waiting to happen.