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    The Darwin Expedition
    The Darwin Expedition
    The Darwin Expedition
    Ebook68 pages45 minutes

    The Darwin Expedition

    By Diane Tullson

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    About this ebook

    Tej and Liam are going snowboarding. When they take a shortcut over a treacherous logging road and have an accident, their adventure becomes more about survival than fresh powder. Tracked by a hungry bear, while trying to outrun the weather without any food, Tej and Liam learn about their friendship and what it will take to survive. When Tej is hurt, Liam decides he has to go for help—alone.
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherOrca Book Publishers
    Release dateMar 1, 2007
    ISBN9781554697366
    The Darwin Expedition
    Author

    Diane Tullson

    Diane Tullson has an MFA in Creative Writing from the University of British Columbia and is a trained technical writer. She is a member of the Canadian Children's Book Centre, the Vancouver Children's Literature Roundtable, Children's Writers and Illustrators of British Columbia and the Writers Union of Canada. Diane has been nominated for many awards, including the Stellar Award and the Arthur Ellis Award. Diane lives near Vancouver, British Columbia. For more information, visit www.dianetullson.com.

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    • 5/5
      i thought the story was really good and i recomend a lot of people to read this book and there were a lot of exsitment stuff and it was really good.

    Book preview

    The Darwin Expedition - Diane Tullson

    love.

    Chapter One

    Rain is a sheet of water on the windshield of the pickup truck. Lead gray, the sky appears in brief arcs as the wipers slam back and forth. The forestry road clings to an old avalanche slope, and the roadbed is under what must be a foot of mud. Tej’s truck wheels spin and the side windows disappear in a spray of mud. Tej white-knuckles the steering wheel.

    Might be too early in the spring to be on this road, Tej.

    We’re almost through, he says, his teeth clenched.

    We could turn around.

    Tej throws me a look. We’d waste hours going back, Liam. We do not want to do that.

    Through the mud on his side window I peer down at the stump-strewn slope. The truck fishtails, and suddenly I’m getting a good view of that downhill run.

    You’re too close to the edge!

    Tej cranks the steering wheel. Plumes of mud plaster the side of the truck. I feel the back end slew, then drop, as a wheel catches the crumbling shoulder. I’m pushed into the seat, like I’m in a dentist’s chair that’s tilted. Tej mats the accelerator. The engine whines as the back wheels start to spin. Then the truck lurches backward. I cram my foot against the floorboards, as if that will make the truck hold the road. Tej mutters a curse and the wheels grab, and then they slip again. The truck tips and I lean toward Tej, who is flattened against his side window. We’re both swearing now. As the truck starts to roll, Tej’s Coke can leaves the cup-holder and hangs in the air an instant before erupting on the dash. Coke runs up the inside of the windshield, and then it streams sideways as we continue to roll.

    My teeth slam against my tongue and I taste blood. My shoulder and then my head crack against the side window. Old snow in the ditch swipes the side window and fills it with white. Then I see trees, and sky, and I know we’re going over again. That’s when I close my eyes.

    I don’t know how many times we flip, but when we stop, we’re suspended upside down in our seat belts. At some point the air bags blew and now droop from the dash. The air feels dense and it’s too quiet. I take a careful breath and wait—for the truck to roll again or careen down the mountain, but it doesn’t. We’re stopped. I heave open the door, and then I push up on one hand against the headliner of the truck, easing the pressure off the seat belt so I can unbuckle it. I tuck my head and roll. It isn’t pretty, but I manage to get out of the truck.

    My legs liquefy, and I grab the door to steady myself. The truck’s front end is jammed solidly against a three-foot tree stump. Good thing, because otherwise we’d be tinfoil at the bottom of the mountain. I stumble around the steaming undercarriage and haul open Tej’s door.

    His hair is hanging in black spines and his dark eyes are the size of quarters. He’s scrabbling with the seat-belt buckle.

    My truck.

    I’m fine, thanks for asking.

    Tej gets his buckle undone, and for a second I think about letting him drop on his head. But I pull him from the truck. He wobbles a bit, and then he stands, looking at the truck, at the crumpled steel and the twisted bumper, at the tailgate plowed upside down in the mud.

    Wrecked, he says. Totally fubar.

    I wait for Tej to say something more but he is silent. His eyes are wide open, staring. I shuffle my feet. You can fix it.

    Tej gives himself a shake. Not here, obviously. We need a tow truck. He yanks his hood up on his blue rain jacket and brushes the hair out of his eyes. After a minute he fishes his phone out of his pocket, opens it and then closes it again. He doesn’t have to tell me: There’s no service this far into the bush.

    The daylight is almost gone. I say, "Maybe we can get a ride out on

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