The Snowbound Cipher

In the remote, snow-draped mountains of Colorado, Harper Stroud stood beneath the wide awning of the abandoned ski lodge, her breath forming tiny clouds in the icy air. Her auburn hair, cascading in perfectly imperfect waves, peeked from beneath a knit navy beanie. A tailored burgundy peacoat hugged her figure, the hem flaring slightly over black thermal leggings tucked into weathered brown boots. She looked like a painting against the backdrop of towering evergreens, snowflakes falling around her as if the world had been paused for dramatic effect. Harper wasn’t here for leisure or nostalgia—this was a mission, though she still wasn’t entirely sure what kind.

She slid her gloved hands into her pockets, her fingers brushing against the cipher disk she’d received two days prior. Its intricate carvings and heavy brass weight had triggered something deep in her—a mix of curiosity and foreboding. Alongside the cipher was a note with just four words in bold handwriting: “Find the Silver Ridge.”

Harper's mind churned with unanswered questions, her boots crunching over fresh snow as she surveyed the lodge. It was a relic of another era, abandoned in the 1980s after an avalanche had buried half the property. Most locals treated the place as haunted or cursed, but Harper wasn't one to let superstition deter her. She tightened the scarf around her neck and stepped inside, her breath catching in her throat as cold, stale air greeted her.

The Lodge and the Stranger

The interior was a mosaic of decay and frozen beauty—ceiling beams rotted and collapsed, yet icicles gleamed like chandeliers in the muted gray light. Dust covered the remains of overturned furniture, while graffiti-covered walls told stories of wayward adventurers who dared enter. Harper’s eyes flicked to the far corner, where an old cast-iron stove stood. She could almost imagine it roaring to life decades ago, warming skiers fresh off the slopes.

As she approached a faded map tacked to the wall—a detailed guide of the trails and the lodge's many rooms—a faint creak echoed from behind. Harper spun around, heart pounding. A man emerged from the shadows, his silhouette tall and daunting. He wore a black parka with the hood drawn low, his hands stuffed casually into the pockets. The dim light revealed his angular face, stubbled jaw, and piercing, glacier-blue eyes.

“Harper Stroud,” he said, his voice smooth and edged with precision, like a blade.

“Who are you?" Harper asked, masking her fear with a boldness she didn’t entirely feel. “How do you know my name?”

“Names leave a trail, even for someone as careful as you.” He pulled a hand from his pocket and held up a familiar object. The cipher disk. Her cipher disk.

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Harper instinctively reached for her pocket, finding it empty. “You have five seconds to explain,” she said, narrowing her eyes. She wasn’t about to be intimidated, even if the stranger seemed to fit perfectly into the trope of mysterious antagonist.

“You’re here because of this,” he said, tossing the cipher disk in the air once before catching it. “We both know the answers you’re looking for aren’t in that tired little gift—you have to dig deeper. But it’s cute that you brought it.”

The Cipher’s Secret

Before Harper could respond, the stranger turned toward a boarded-up window, wrenching off a loose plank to let in more light. He placed the cipher disk against the beam of sunlight filtering through, rotating its mechanisms until various engravings glowed. Symbols Harper hadn’t noticed before shimmered faintly, almost pulsing. She felt an inexplicable pull toward them, like tiny threads of memory unraveling in her mind.

“This isn't just about you,” the man murmured. “Nor is it about me. It’s about them.” He gestured toward the window, where the sharp silhouette of Silver Ridge loomed in the distance. “They’ve built something there. Something... hidden under layers of controversy and classified tape. And if we don’t get there first, we might lose more than we think.”

Harper’s pulse raced. “Who’s ‘they’? You're long on riddles and short on answers.”

“I’m not the villain if that’s what you’re asking. No one’s wearing white hats here.” He finally extended a gloved hand. “I go by Royce. Set aside the skepticism, at least for now.”

Unsure if she was committing to brilliance or disaster, Harper clasped his hand briefly. Royce’s grasp was firm, deliberate, but not overpowering. She withdrew quickly and crossed her arms. “Fine. But just know I’d rather solve a Rubik’s cube blindfolded than trust someone who speaks in metaphors about classified secrets.”

The Chase to Silver Ridge

Royce explained that Silver Ridge wasn’t just a mountain—it was a location veiling a geopolitical experiment that had grown out of control. Secretive research on sustainable energy had shifted into dangerous territory, creating a rift among global players. The lack of government oversight, Royce said, had made it anyone’s game, and those at the helm weren’t exactly poster children for humanity.

The journey to the ridge wasn’t smooth. Royce and Harper found themselves dodging a rogue snowmobile gang hired to ensure no one got close to the facility. The cold slapped at Harper’s face like an unrelenting adversary, and the edges of her coat felt frozen to her skin. But adrenaline coursed through her veins, crystallizing her focus.

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Through a series of narrow escapes—an avalanche Royce triggered to bury their pursuers, a makeshift sled crafted from lodge debris, and a harrowing climb up a vertical ice wall—they finally stood atop the ridge. Below them, partially buried, was the facility: a network of steel and glass structures caked in frost, the hum of machinery audible even from their vantage point.

The Revelation

They infiltrated the facility in silence, their steps careful against the tiled corridors. In the lab’s central chamber, Harper found stacks of files, revealing the true nature of the experiments. Renewable energy, yes, but laced with weaponizable elements. Countries once thought to be allies had made advanced deals, leveraging this knowledge to gain not just power, but dominance. Royce had been right—it was a Rubik’s cube with no clear solution.

When alarms blared, Harper cursed under her breath. The two barely escaped, the sound of armed guards closing in as they slid down the ridge on a hastily grabbed toboggan. Back in her cabin, bruised but alive, Harper spread the documents before her. Royce placed the cipher disk beside them and spoke with something close to reverence.

“You could destroy them with these,” he said quietly, flicking through data charts. “Or... join them. The world isn’t neat, Harper. Choose carefully.”

Harper stared at him, then at the files, snow still melting from her boots onto the floor. The weight of choice settled over her like a fresh snowfall—heavy, quiet, and impossible to ignore.

“Let them think I’m undecided,” she murmured, glimpsing the silhouette of Silver Ridge through her frosted window. “That’s how you survive a world like this.”

Royce studied her, nodding once. What Harper couldn’t see was his subtle smile, as though her answer aligned with a game plan he had devised long ago.

The Source...check out the great article that inspired this amazing short story: America Post-Election: Foreign Policy Analysis

storybackdrop_1735108729_file The Snowbound Cipher

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1 comment

Helen
Helen

Not bad, but why does Harper sound like every “smart, beautiful, mysterious but tough” heroine ever written? Give her some flaws! Also, a snowmobile gang?? Really?

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