Chapter 180: Snow Mountain: Old Self, You’re Amazing!

Chapter 180: Snow Mountain: Good Job, Me!

Old John answered the phone while everyone watched.

The call was indeed from the rescue team. And just as Old John had expected, they couldn't spare anyone to help the people at the mountain lodge because they were short-staffed.

"Have you calculated how long your current food and fuel supplies will last?" the person on the other end asked.

Being his usual cautious self, Old John didn't tell the truth when answering, instead leaving some wiggle room: "Yes, we've already taken stock. If we only use what's needed to stay alive, we can hold out for at most four days."

"Got it. We'll get a team together to come get you ASAP. But be prepared—our rescue efforts are focused on the ski resort right now, so help won't come fast for you folks on the mountain. Please use as little as you can and hang in there. We promise to get you out within a week, at the latest."

"But we can't hold out that long."

"We've got our own problems too. Please understand..."

They stressed it several times, going back and forth, but the rescue team kept saying the same thing—at best, they'd come within a week. As for when exactly, that was up in the air; they'd just have to wait.

After the call ended, everyone in the hall had mixed feelings, but they were also relieved that Old John hadn't told the truth.

After all, he'd clearly told them the lodge's supplies could last four days under survival-only conditions, and the rescue team still said they'd come within a week. If he'd said from the start that they could hold out for a week, wouldn't the rescue team have dragged their feet even more, stretching it to nine or ten days?

How unreliable—don't fifteen lives matter at all?

That call made the atmosphere in the hall heavy.

Luckily, before long, the two busy in the kitchen came out with steaming hot soup, breaking the gloom.

Food had to be rationed, so dinner wasn't much: a hearty stew with potatoes, carrots, and some meat, two slices of bread per person, and a glass of hot milk—that was the whole dinner.

There was a little incident during dinner.

Knowing full well that rescue might take a week and food had to be conserved, the stout professor Samuel, counting on his age and social status, claimed to have low blood sugar and demanded special treatment from the innkeeper couple, asking for a bigger portion.

Not surprisingly, his request was denied.

If they'd been outside, his shamelessness might have worked. But times were different—everyone was trapped on the mountain, and every meal was strictly calculated to last them a week. If Samuel got extra, everyone else would go hungry in the last few days.

Besides, Samuel's usual attitude was insufferable—acting like a big shot just because he was a professor. People had long been sick of him, and they weren't about to indulge him now!

After a long argument, Samuel failed and slunk away in defeat. In the end, it was the shy girl Ella who cautiously offered her own slice of bread to her advisor, finally calming things down at the table.

Because of that dinner dispute, no one hung around in the hall after the meal. Once the firewood in the fireplace burned out, they all headed back to their rooms.

Everly and her crew went back too.

In the big suitcase Everly had specially packed, there was half a box of food—all compressed biscuits, the kind where one is enough to fill you up.

That night's dinner was nowhere near enough to fill anyone up. Missing one meal was bearable, but if it went on for several meals, not only would stomachs ache, but people would lose strength. If danger came and they couldn't even run, wouldn't that be awful?

So Everly specifically called Old John and Rebecca to her room. She closed the door, set the doorstop, opened her big suitcase, and sat down on the floor to hand out the biscuits.

As she handed them out, she patted herself on the back for being so prepared.

In horror movies set in deserts, snowy mountains, or rainforests, there was a category called survival thrillers.

These movies had simple plots—usually a few people getting lost or trapped for one reason or another. They faced shortages of food and fuel while battling harsh natural conditions, and some unlucky ones even ran into dangerous beasts or monsters. Under such circumstances, the protagonists had to overcome obstacles, fight to survive, and escape their situation.

A very common trope in survival movies was that, driven by hunger and scarcity, once-united survivors would turn on each other over resources, fighting bitterly. Directors often used these expendable characters' selfishness to show humanity's ugliness, thereby highlighting the protagonist's noble character.

Everly had no intention of going through such a test of human nature. In fact, she didn't even plan on being hungry. So before setting out, she'd made a point of stopping by an outdoor gear store and bought a box of compressed biscuits.

With that box, at two biscuits per person per day, it could feed four people for a full week. Since three meals a day were still being served, even if sparingly, these extra biscuits could stretch to ten days if eaten carefully.

Oh, nice work, me!

After dividing the biscuits, Everly reminded Rebecca to lock the door and set the doorstop before bed, and then the four of them went their separate ways. Old John and Rebecca went back to their bedroom, while Everly re-locked her door and, munching on a biscuit, started chatting with Misha.

Their main topic was Samuel. Despite being a professor, he seemed rude and boorish—like a small-minded guy who'd gotten a little power. Under these special circumstances, everyone was hungry, yet he alone insisted on special treatment, kicking up a fuss. It was annoying just to look at him.

"That Lucas is a pain too," Everly said, swallowing a bite of biscuit and making an important statement. "Grandpa's satellite phone was a big help to everyone, and it's not like we caused the avalanche. I don't get why he had to keep pushing it. Doesn't he have any boundaries? Or does he think it makes him seem smart?"

Misha agreed: "His attitude was really off-putting, honestly. Even if he was curious, he could have asked in a gentler, more acceptable way instead of looking at people with that cold, judgmental stare, showing no respect at all. Someone like him definitely wouldn't have been popular back in school."

With no phone signal, there was nothing to do for fun. The two chatted for a while, but instead of getting drowsy, they started to feel cold.

Everly thought for a moment, then, catching Misha by surprise, lunged at her, grabbed her waist, and hoisted her onto the bed in a wrestling move.

Misha, caught off guard, was thrown around and left dizzy. After giggling on the bed for a bit, she let out a bear-like growl, twisted out of Everly's grip, charged forward, and pinned Everly down. They traded playful punches and kicks, play-fighting like kids.

After their roughhousing, once the boiler's heat kicked back in and the room warmed up, drowsiness finally crept over their eyelids.

With no videos to watch, the two girls just went to bed early and fell fast asleep.

They slept through the night without dreaming.

When they woke up, the sky outside was gray, and it was snowing again.

The boiler had stopped heating in the middle of the night, leaving the room as cold as a fridge. Shivering while they got dressed, Everly and Misha headed downstairs to find several people already sitting in the hall.

With the boiler off, the warmest place in the lodge was by the fireplace. Everyone grabbed their skimpy breakfast from the dining table, scarfed it down, and then, as if by silent agreement, settled onto the sofas to warm themselves by the fire, chatting, playing cards, or playing offline games on their phones.

The morning dragged on. It wasn't until lunch was cooked and set out that everyone realized someone was missing from the hall.

Twelve meals were set out, one for each of the twelve guests. But now, eleven had been taken, and one was still untouched.

Looking around, they quickly realized the meal was for the stout professor Samuel.

"Maybe the professor didn't sleep well last night because he was hungry," one of the four students said, trying to make excuses for their advisor.

"Ella, why don't you and Antonio take the meal up to him? I recall he gave you a spare room key to organize his notes," said Fatima, the girl who wore designer brands.

Ella was the girl who'd been forced to give up a slice of bread to Samuel the day before. She and a boy named Antonio were clearly the "slaves" or "errand runners" of the group—no, the five-person group, since the professor bossed them around too.

The moment Fatima gave the order, the two students jumped to their feet, picking up the cold breakfast and the freshly served lunch.

"We'll take the food up to the professor."

They said this in a weak voice, then, one after another, silently left the hall and headed up the stairs.

Having gone two meals without enough to eat, everyone was hungry and had little energy to be nosy. Once the food was evenly divided, they thanked the generous innkeeper couple and dug in with gusto.

But before they could even take a few sips of hot soup, a terrified scream broke the hall's calm.

"Ah—!"

The scream came from upstairs, and judging by the direction, it was right around the professor's room.

The people in the hall had a bad feeling about this and put down their utensils, standing up.

"What's going on?"

"I don't know, should we go up and check?"

Just as they were puzzled, the frantic sound of footsteps grew closer from a distance, and at the corner of the stairs, the timid student Antonio came stumbling into view.

"The professor's... he's... dead!"

...

A minute later.

Except for the deceased professor, the remaining 14 people all headed upstairs and gathered at the door of Room 205 where the professor was staying.

The door was ajar, and before they even got close, they could feel a chill seeping through the gap.

The girl Ella, who had carried the food upstairs earlier, had sunk to the floor, huddled against the wall of Room 206, trembling with fear and cold.

At the entrance to 205, shattered ceramic bowls and a few slices of bread were scattered about. They must have been dropped in shock when the two of them opened the door and saw what was inside.

As everyone watched, Old John, walking at the front of the group, raised his hand and gently pushed the door open—

A soft creak, and the wooden door swung open, revealing the room as cold as a snow cave, and the professor, Samuel, bound to the bed, covered in blood, his eyes wide open, staring blankly.