I have a QUESTION FOR YOU! Do you know where Ben, Abi, Riley, and co live? I've had a total brain fart and can't figure out which city they live in. THANKS!

Heluu there. Bork! Are you reading this? The first chapter here was a random typing spree I went on one day and said, HMMM. Fanfiction looks like fun, I think I'll join the hordes of fangirls.

All these places are fictional, based on real places in the charming state of Utah.

As for the plot… I think something should have happened to Riley in at least one of the movies. If they knew what was good for their ratings that's what they would have done, anyways. I think the next movie should crawl its way up to PG-13.

The POV keeps switching around, but I WARN you before I do that. I think. Mostly. Rated for extremely mild language, maybe twice. On the safe side. It's kind of sad, actually.

Disclaimer: Pretty much don't own anything. At all. Except Laudes and I don't even want her. Don't tell her that though.

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"I still don't understand this. And I feel like, as the smart-ass sidekick, I have a right to know what's going on. I just hacked into the most secure network in the world to find a random series of symbols you seem to think are significant and I don't even know what to tell the cops I was doing when they catch me and interrogate me and stick rods of metal up my-"

"As a matter of fact, that wasn't the most secure network in the world, you are just too deft at hacking to get yourself arrested, and everything will be explained in due time." I paused to glance at my young companion. "Riley, this is more important than anything you've ever done. This isn't a treasure hunt." Riley turned to look at me, surprised.

"Um, should I be concerned? Are we being followed by a herd of ninjas?" he asked, looking behind us. No-one was following, I had been keeping my eye on the rearview mirror.

"We're working with the president. I'd say we're pretty safe. I'd be more concerned about foreign intervention."

"Well ninjas are usually foreign." He gave me a serious look for once.

"Ben, really, what's going on? I mean, if this is important enough to get other countries sending ninjas after us, I have a strong suspicion it's pretty important. What are we searching for, I mean are we even searching for something? Is this going to end up with the US having complete global control because of what we do, because that's a little against my morals."

"Forget the ninjas, Riley." I sat silent for a moment. Remarkably, so did Riley. He was watching me. He had a point, if I was going to drag him into something this big he had a right to know what it was about before he got in too deep. I hadn't wanted to tell him at first because I wasn't sure who else was involved or knew what we were doing. The less people knew what was going on, the better. I didn't want to put Riley in danger because of something he knew. I could tell not knowing was really bugging him, though, and it would have bugged me too.

"Ok…. Ok, I'll tell you when we get back to the hotel. I don't want to do it when we're driving. No, not at the hotel, they've got cameras and stuff. How about…" I eyed the countryside around us. It would look funny to anyone that might be watching if we just pulled over. However I did it, it couldn't be suspicious. Riley was watching me and I knew the gears were turning.

"So this is something so important that it would take so much concentration telling me the story that you wouldn't be able to keep us on County Road 89, the straightest and flattest and emptiest road known to man, going through a wasteland where no-one else ever drives and there aren't any animals to leap suicidally in front of us? Am I old enough to even hear this?" I didn't reply. I was still thinking. He'd understand once I told him.

"Next rest stop," I said.

"And you have to tell me why we had to come out to Nowhereville just so I could hack something."

"Of course, yeah, everything will be revealed."

"Wow, it's like Christmas Eve." He sighed and looked out the window. My eyes wandered around the landscape. He was right; it had to be the most desolate place I'd ever driven. There were monoliths of stone sticking out of the ground miles away, but they were the only elevation. They looked much closer than they were, and yet… they could also look impossibly far away. I thought it was beautiful. It looked as though it should be sweltering outside but due to the month, which was October, it was rather chilly. Cold winds swept persistently across the landscape, pushing gently at the side of the car, where we sat in heated silence. The silence was eerie and made me a bit uncomfortable but I left it to Riley to break it, which I had total faith that he would.

"Hey!" he exclaimed, pointing to our right.

"What? What is it?" I asked frantically, looking for secret agent men appearing out of the desert or ninjas popping up from behind dead sagebrush. Thanks, Riley.

"It's like a deer or something! Wow, there's a lot of them." I sighed.

"Mule-deer." There was indeed a herd of mule-deer staring at us blankly as we sped past.

"Hey, you think we'll see a jackalope?"

"Jackalopes don't exist."

"How do you know?"

"There was a confirmation in the President's Book." His eyes widened.

"Seriously?" I gave him a look.

"No. There really are jack-rabbits hopping around with antlers on their heads, which makes perfect evolutionary and anatomical sense."

I watched his face as it fell into mock hurt. His face looked a bit funny. His eye twitched. I smiled. Then the mock hurt was wiped away by an alarming shade of panicky dread. I was well-acquainted with the many faces of Riley but this is one I only ever associated with serious situations that usually involved the possibility of death.

"What?" I asked, looking around. Had he seen something? He didn't say anything. His face was registering horrified disbelief. He took off his glasses and placed them on the dash.

"Riley, what? What's going on?" I slowed the car down.

"No… not again… dammit! Stop the car," he groaned quietly, wincing. He hunched over in his seat, shoulders curling inwards, head drooping. I stopped the car. His right hand was pressed against his right eye now, left fist on his forehead. I put the car in park, turned off the engine. He started fumbling with the door handle. I jumped out my side and scrambled over to his. What in the world was going on? His face was creased with pain, eyes squeezed shut. Concern washed through me. Where was the nearest hospital? I had no idea. There wasn't one in the town we were staying at. His door popped open as I stopped in front of it. He started falling out and I caught him around the shoulders.

"Riley, what the hell is going on? What is this, what's happening?" He wasn't making much of an effort to do anything but pressing on his face and grimacing. I guided him to a conveniently placed and sized rock nearby but he crumpled before we got there. I couldn't support the sudden shift in weight and I had to lower him to the rocky, sandy ground. He lay on his side, curling into himself. I heard an agonized groan escape his lips, quickly stifled. Kneeling by his side, I pried at his hands, trying to get a look at his face.

"Riley. Riley! I need to know what's going on! Do you need medical attention, a hospital, should I call an ambulance?" Which was, I know, a ridiculous thing to do. It might take an ambulance hours to get where we were.

"No…I'll be fine, just….need to wait…" He was having trouble speaking. Tears were running across his face from his eyes. He turned onto his back and writhed like a skewered worm, the rocks underneath him grinding together and probably into his back and head. I pulled him half onto my lap.

"Riley, you look like you're dying. Are you dying?" The panic I was feeling masked the horror of the thought of his possible death in my voice. I put my hand on his forehead, feeling for a temperature. He felt normal enough to me.

"I'll… be fine… a while…. Sorry… Aaaaaahh…."

"Don't be sorry," I mumbled absently, my mind tumbling. What was happening? He seemed to know what was happening, seemed to think he'd be all right, which is something I never would have guessed. He tossed to his side onto the gravel, trying to bury his head with his arms. I pulled him back up onto me and held him there. I didn't know what to say. After a moment I finally registered that it was cold out, a chill and steady wind blowing across the desolation surrounding us. I had been driving in a tee shirt and I felt the goosebumps crawling all up my body. Riley was wearing a light flannel shirt with the sleeves pushed up and I wondered if he even registered that he was cold.

"Um…" It felt weird talking to him when he was in such a state. "We should get back in the car, it's pretty cold out here."

"No," he groaned decisively.

"Um… ok…" I wondered what to do. What if being cold made it worse, whatever it was?

"I need a jacket then," I said, and making no move to do so. I glanced up and down the road, checking for any approaching cars. No-one. I didn't know if I should feel relieved or disappointed, not that anyone else would know how to help. A brief moment of panic struck me; I was alone out here. Riley was suffering from something debilitating, I had no idea what it was, I didn't know what to do, he didn't seem willing to communicate. How long would this last? Would it even get better? I tore my eyes from the road, which was surprisingly hard to do. An endless stretch of road cutting through clear desert settled my mind and was far easier to look at than Riley, who was curled on his side, right hand buried in his hair, looking like he was about to yank out a fistful of his scalp.

"Riley…" I said, not knowing what else to say. I tried to pry his fingers out of his hair, but his fingers were like little bars of tempered steel.

"Riley, you're going to give yourself a headache, let go of your head." He gave a little laugh/sob and it occurred to me that it was quite obvious he already had a headache, which was the reason he was trying to tear his hair out. His hands were flexing spontaneously and I attempted to disattach them from his head in the brief moments he loosened up. Once that was accomplished I held his wrist away, tried to pin it to his shoulder. His breathing was coming out ragged and irregular, rasping loudly in and out clenched teeth. I bent over him to see his face. His right cheek was covered in tears, both eyes clamped shut. My heart pounded loudly in my chest, I could hear blood rushing through my ears. I didn't know what to do so I just held him to my body, completely forgetting I was cold.

His slow writhing became more violent; he looked like he was trying to twist out of something's grasp, and I got the impression it wasn't mine. All of his muscles seemed rigid and his arms were shaking - his whole body was shaking. His quiet groans became louder cries that wrenched at my heart, and I found myself wanting suddenly to get up and run away from him and the noises he made. Not a thought from my own waking mind, but from somewhere deeper in human instinct. Or maybe from the weakness that every soul holds. Empathy wasn't one of my stronger characteristics but I felt it emerging, ripping at my gut, and I felt physically sick. It passed in a wave but the pathos remained. I wished he would stop. I wanted him to tell me what was going on. I wanted his face to relax. I wanted him to smile and I wanted to see his eyes.

"Jesus, Riley," I whispered to no-one, staring at the sky above a distant snow-capped mountain. It was curiously out of place. I tried to focus on the mountain for a moment, thinking that we both had to just wait it out and there was no reason to burden my eyes and mind with what was going on right in front of me. But I didn't know that. What was going on here was as much of a mystery as why there would be one, giant, snowy mountain in the middle of a desert.

He remained in that condition for what felt like an hour. It must have been more like fifteen minutes though. His twisting activity slowed and he stopped emitting pitiful noises and the relief I was feeling I selfishly thought must have been more than the relief he probably felt at the apparent remission of pain. I felt bad then. After a while his muscles started relaxing and his clenched fists were converted to limp limbs draped across his face. His breathing slowed down and became more regular. Forty-five minutes after the whole thing was started he lay limp on my lap, on his side, face still covered. I was fairly confident, due to his regular breathing and relative relaxed state, that he wasn't dead. I decided to venture my voice.

"Riley."

"Ugh…" was the answer I got. He was conscious, and I breathed a sigh of relief.

"Are you ok?"

"I… will be ok." His voice was muffled. He made no attempt to get up, or in any way shift his dead weight from my lap.

"You need anything?"

"No."

"Are you cold?"

"No." Silence reigned. I realized it was the first time I had ever been with Riley that silence had reigned so heavily. Except when he was asleep, which is something I started thinking he was doing at the moment. Then he shifted. He rolled off my lap and got his arms under him and started to push himself up. I stood up and helped him to his feet, then turned him around and looked at him.

"You look terrible." His right eyelid drooped a bit and was red and teary looking, his hair mussed and full of sand and bits of ground matter.

"Thanks," he responded.

"You need to stand now, or get in the car?" In response he made his way the few steps to the car and leaned against it, taking deep, shaky breaths. I went to stand next to him, looking at him expectantly. He noticed my stare without turning my direction.

"That…was….a cluster headache," he said, speaking the sentence like he had difficulty lacing the words together.

"A cluster headache?"

"A cluster headache."

"What's a cluster headache?"

"A really bad headache."

"Couldn't tell." He didn't respond, rubbing his temple.

"You have these often?"

"I get them once every six to… eighteen months," he said, rather bitterly. "Periods last for a few weeks, during which I might have two or three a day. Hence 'cluster'," he added morosely. He looked rather upset suddenly, and quite acceptably. I would be upset if suddenly faced with the prospect of spending the next few weeks writhing in pretty much constant pain. His eyes closed tiredly.

"Um… wow, I'm tired." I guided him to the backseat door and opened it, helping him in. I fetched his jacket from the front seat and bundled it up.

"Best pillow we've got right now," I said, throwing it at him. He immediately slumped over sideways, clutching the thing under his head. I shut the door. Upon hopping in my own door and closing it quietly, he spoke up.

"Um… Ben, sorry, but can we have the windows open? The coldness helps…"

"Of course, as long as you don't get pneumonia or something. I'll be fine in my jacket." I pressed the automatic window lowerer button thing and the windows started sliding down. I turned in my seat. Riley was curled on his side across the backseat, looking exhausted and miserable.

"Ok… I don't know where the nearest hospital is but once we get to Henrytown I'll find out-"

"I don't need a hospital. Is there a clinic in Henrytown?"

"Ah, probably, I don't know. I mean, they'll at least have a doctor."

"I'd kind of just like a tank of oxygen. Usually works…" His eyes closed and I nodded. Turned in my seat and started the car.

No one had driven past in over an hour.

Riley was completely silent for the next two hours, excepting the ' 'm fine''s he was giving me whenever I asked how he was doing. Which made the ride possibly the worst two hours I'd ever spent in a car, even more surprising because I was spending them in his company. His response also meant he wasn't sleeping. I didn't know whether that was a good sign or a bad sign.

I wondered while I drove how long he'd been dealing with this condition. Without me knowing, too. I'd been his friend since college and somehow this situation reminded me of when we first met. Not the same thing at all but suddenly… Here we were again, I was stuck taking care of him, him who insisted he was ok but most obviously was not. I'd do some research on cluster headaches when I got back, figure out if there was something he should be doing or something to take that would prevent these things. I wouldn't put it past him to not have anything that would help on hand because of the cost.

I sighed.

Now of all times. They decided to strike right now, now when I needed Riley's brain the most. If every headache lasted one hour and there were three a day… when

would we know when they'd strike? I wouldn't be able to take him anywhere. Besides the fact that a cluster headache in a public area would be kind of embarrassing to him, it would draw a lot of attention to us. I prayed there was nothing life-threatening about the headaches; I really didn't want to abandon our search just to take him in to a hospital somewhere a million miles away.

I shook my head. Not like I wouldn't do that. And I'd be glad to. I thought. I told myself. Well, we were trying to save the world here, pretty much. One man's life wasn't going to stop us… I told myself doubtfully… It was my best friend. I dragged him into it, I suppose it was on my shoulders if he needed to be drug back out again. Hopefully if that needed to happen it wouldn't interfere with the rest of our plans though.

But I needed his skills.

I wasn't a hacker. This project of ours was practically one big hack. I wouldn't be able to do it without him. And sure, I knew my history. But Riley was the expert on weird conspiracies and theories and stuff, something else that would prove invaluable. There had to be other people out there that knew about weird government stuff but there was no way I was dragging anyone else into this. No way. The only person I trusted to help me were the people I already had available, which I was grateful for. Riley. I wasn't going to

drag my wife into this, but I'd always trust Abigail with anything. Somehow I doubted she'd be all that much help in this kind of search, though, and if I was able to leave her out of it I would. The president, although he had the President's Book, wasn't a well of knowledge either. A bright man, but one that I couldn't exactly be hanging out with, let alone calling, e-mailing, or communicating in any way with. So it was basically me and Riley. And I was the only one who knew what was going on.

A sign flew by. It had taken me by surprise, as I suppose I must have been able to see it coming for miles. It said, 'Next rest area five miles'. I checked the back seat. Riley appeared to be sleeping. It was the last chance I had to tell him.

Now that I thought about it, although we were staying at the best hotel in Henrytown, it was also the only hotel in Henrytown. I doubted it had cameras. They didn't even have a computer at the front desk.

As we neared the exit to the rest area, and I contemplated whether or not to take it, Riley sat up.

"Your timing is immaculate. I've decided the hotel won't have any cameras. You want to hear the schpiel here or at the hotel?"

"Here." His atypical short answer made me once again turn in my seat and glance at him. His face was a little paler than usual. Or it may have been the light. His eye looked a lot better.

"You're not driving on my face, Ben, watch the road." I turned back, a little relieved he was still able to crack stupid jokes.

The building was tiny but generally well-kept. I figured the guy who cleaned the place didn't get that many customers but didn't have anything else to do. An evening cleaning the ol' rest area had to be as exciting as an evening in Henrytown.

The air was getting colder. As I stepped out of the car the wind ripped straight through my jacket and started freezing together my nose hairs. Riley had pulled on his jacket and was looking at me.

"Let's, uh, take a walk." I started perambulating into the vast nowhere we were surrounded by. I pretended to be interested in a patch of bright yellow flowers in a tiny canyon thing. Riley followed me down slowly. I leaned back against the cold but dry sandy wall of the ravine, looking around. A good place to tell a top-secret secret. No-one could see us down here. Riley lowered himself to sit next to me. We sat in silence for another few minutes. I poked at the yellow flowers dangling in front of my shoe.

"Beeflower," said Riley.

"You know what this stuff is?" I asked incredulously. He'd never struck me as the planty type.

"I happen to know quite a lot about desert ecology," he replied, a touch of pride in his voice.

"How in the world did you come to be interested in desert ecology?"

"I've been out backpacking here a few times. Well, not here, but out by the real Canyonlands." Another page in the Riley Manual was flipped open to me. I was discovering a lot of new chapters on this trip.

"Hey. What's going on?" asked a voice above my head. I couldn't believe I hadn't heard the lady coming. She stood directly over us on the bank of the valley and looked a bit murderous. Dressed in a janitor's outfit, graying hair pulled back in a tight braid, she was formidable from this angle. And she was carrying a broom like she was ready to knock our heads off.

"Um. We were just getting some air. We've been driving for a while. I wanted to know what those yellow flowers were," I invented, pointing.

"Beeflower. Anything else you wanted to know?" I wondered if she considered this little plot of land hers and thought we were trespassing. It was public land.

"Well actually, my friend here knows quite a bit about desert ecology. I was just going to strike up a scholarly conversation about it."

"Oh really." She glared at Riley, looking like she didn't believe at all that this young man wearing Converse and a jacket that said 'ecki-ecki-ecki-ecki phtang zoop-boing z'nourrwringmm' on it would know the first thing about desert ecology, and I couldn't say I blamed her. Riley got that look in his eyes that he always got when someone doubted what he said. I was, I admit, quite familiar with that look. I shouldn't have been.

"Yes, as a matter of fact, we were about to strike up a scholarly conversation. I was just about to point out that my friend was sitting in a patch of poisonous arrowgrass, for one thing." I looked down at the grass under me.

"What?"

"Not that you'll get poisoned, I just thought it would be funny to see your face." I shifted to a plantless area and looked back up at our observer, who was giving Riley a scrutinizing look.

"Yeah? What are you sitting in?" Riley looked down.

"Um, cheatgrass. Dang nabbit," he said, struggling upright and brushing at his back.

"That's foxtail chess."

"No, it's cheatgrass. It's red."

"No, it's mature foxtail chess. It's spring."

"But cheatgrass is red anyways."

"Look how short it is."

"Lack of water."

"It's growing in a dry streambed."

"Do you see any water?"

"What do you think carved out this little ravine?"

"You know what…" Riley pointed his finger accusationally, but couldn't come up with any words.

"Fine, whatever. You win, I can never tell them apart." The woman at the top looked triumphant but had lost her dubious look. When she smiled she actually looked like a nice old lady.

"You a bio major then?" she asked, leaning on her broom handle. I looked at Riley, silently telling him to be careful.

"Um… no, I've just been out here a lot. Backpacking. You get to know these things."

"You like backpacking out here? Ever read Edward Abbey?" Riley's eyes lit up and a smile cracked itself across his face.

"I love that guy!"

"Me too! Monkey Wrench Gang?"

"Yeah! I finished it last summer! Good book. I've noticed the billboards around here are pretty hefty." The lady smiled and laughed a bit.

"Yes, yes they are. Was actually a real problem back then. Small one, but you know when you're a business out here in the middle of nowhere you kind of rely on them." She looked above our heads, wistful and smiling for a moment. Riley was still grinning.

"Cool," he said.

"What?" I said. "No, never mind, never mind." I didn't quite know what to do at this point. Leaving abruptly would be rude now but getting back to town as soon as possible would be ideal, for Riley's sake. I had no idea when the next headache might strike and I didn't know if he knew. I figured in order to not be rude we should at least join the lady back up where she was. I struggled up the slope and helped Riley come up. He was moving a little stiffly, I noticed. No surprise.

"Well… I figure we should probably get going pretty soon…"

"You got an important meeting in Henrytown?" she asked, as if she totally understood. Funny lady. Seemed like a trustworthy one.

"Actually… my friend here kind of needs a clinic. Is there one in Henrytown?" She turned a curious gaze on Riley momentarily, who looked intensely embarrassed and a bit upset.

"There's a little house right across from the gas station, it's white. Doesn't look like a clinic but it is. Hope you're alright, we can't be loosing people who care about this place, there aren't a lot of them anymore." Riley gave a little laugh.

"I'm not going anywhere, don't worry."

"Thanks," I said.

"You staying in town?" she asked, as if such a thing were absurd. Which it was, kind of.

"Ah… yes. Yes we are." Please don't ask any more questions, lady.

"Really? Seeing the Hoodoos?" What?

"Um… what?" Her face fell a little bit.

"The Hoodoos? Hoodoo Valley State Park? Just down the road? The only reason anyone ever comes here?"

"Oh the Hoodoos. Right. The park. Well. No, we're just on our way through."

"Where you headed?" I lost my voice. Riley spoke up.

"We're actually going to Capitol Reef. To see the drawings on the walls. Petroglyphs." He nodded. Understanding on her face, thank God.

"Ah, the petroglyphs. Well if you get time I suggest checking the Hoodoos out, it's really the weirdest place you'll ever set foot."

"Is it?" I asked, as if I was fascinated. She nodded.

"Well we'll remember that. Thank you! Ah, we really should get going, you know, um Ri…" I stopped myself before completing his name. "Uh, how are you feeling?" I asked in exaggerated concern.

In response he groaned a little and put a hand to his head. I hoped he was acting.

"Ok, well, we should get you to that clinic… thanks very much… um…"

"Name's Laudes." She looked at us with expectation. I cursed myself for inquiring into her name; now she wanted ours.

"Dan," I said, holding out my hand. She shook it.

"Ri," said Riley, with a touch of sarcasm.

"Well… nice to meet you, Laudes…maybe see you around, eh?"

"Small town. Good luck you two, hope you feel better soon."

"Thanks!" With that we departed the rest area, having achieved nothing at all. Hadn't even straightened out whether Riley had sat in foxtail chess or cheatgrass, and I didn't even know why that may or may not have mattered. We reached the car.

"For real, how are you?" I asked him. He gave me a thumbs up sign but his face wasn't very happy. He got into the passenger seat. I got into the driver's seat.

"You don't look like you're alright."

"That was so totally cheatgrass. She doesn't know what she's talking about." I shook my head and started the car. As I drove onto the exit a jackrabbit sprung out in front of the bumper and I slammed on the breaks, whipping us both forward in our seats. The thing sat there in the middle of the road, looking befuddled. I honked the horn.

"I'll bet jackalopes aren't that dumb," muttered Riley. "They've got to have a bigger brain to support a rack." He gazed absently at the animal in front of us. It finally loped slowly off the road. I started driving again. I turned to ask Riley if he was still alright but his head was buried in his hands again. We got off the exit and I pulled over.

"Another headache?" He nodded. Jesus.

"Just let me get in back, I need writhing room." The words carried no humor. He got out and crawled into the backseat again.

"You sure you don't want to get out?"

"Drive." I pulled onto the road again as Riley took off his jacket. As the minutes went by I thought for a moment that the headache wasn't going to be as bad as the first one, but upon looking back at him I knew he was trying to stifle the moans and the thrashing. After the first ten minutes I could hear his breath coming out shaky again, irregular. Fifteen minutes and he was sobbing quietly.

It was one of the strangest situations I had ever been in. I drove down the road to nowhere with my friend crying and squirming in the backseat, where I couldn't see him. It was eerie and very disturbing. I told myself the only thing I could do for him was get him to town, find the white house across from the gas station. I hoped there was only one gas station in town. Probably.

One hour later I could see Henrytown and my level of concern had busted through the roof. He wasn't even in the remissive stage yet. This was like twice as long as his first one. I had tried to ask him if this was normal, if he would be ok, but he wasn't responding. Aside from one 'Oh God' about twenty minutes beforehand, no words had come through his mouth. I was intensely worried, but the only thing I could think to do was get him to the clinic. I wondered if the doctors in Henrytown even knew what a cluster headache was. The population was so small. Probably only ever got hypothermic and heat stroke patients. Maybe a snakebite or two. I wondered why in the world a doctor would choose to work all the way out here. Worry settled pungently around my heart. What if they couldn't help him? What if we'd have to call in a helicopter? How inconspicuous. No doubt anyone trying to thwart our mission would know who Riley was, probably had his medical records, knew he got cluster headaches, would hear about the kid in Henrytown being airlifted out for a cluster headache.

I stopped myself. I was being paranoid. Paranoid and selfish. If Riley needed to be airlifted out, he would be airlifted out and there would be no protestations from me. Even if it meant being caught. You won't be caught. No-one has his medical records. No-one will notice a helicopter airlifting someone from Henrytown. I stopped myself again. Riley probably wouldn't end up being airlifted out. He'd be fine. Although at the moment he looked and sounded as if he was about to die.

I passed the first abandoned yard, full of hollow and faded car skeletons. Half a minute later I was in the heart of Henrytown, where a little grocery store, a rickety looking restaurant, and a gas station resided. Across from the gas station sat a white house with peeling paint and a small wooden sign on the front that may have once read 'Clinic' back in the 1800's when the building was erected.

"Not a very visitor-friendly place," I muttered, and my own voice shocked me after the long silence. I pulled into the driveway, then twisted in my seat to face Riley.

"Well, here we are. You want to come in or should I just go ask for a tank of oxygen?" To my amazement, he responded.

"I hate this!" Not the response I had wanted, but a response nonetheless. He was coming in with me, if I had to carry him. Thoughts of the mission at hand disappeared for once and I was no longer conflicted between assuring Riley's well-being and assuring the availability of his brains. I simply wanted him to stop hurting.

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I suppose I've made Riley somewhat of an environmentalist, kind of, which makes no sense given his chosen car. Whatever. Also, I've done only a small amount of research on cluster headaches and still don't fully understand them. If someone happens to know something I don't about them, let me know, because they really aren't something to screw around with and I want that part of the story to be as factual as possible.

So – Like it? Despise it? Know how to improve my writing style? Have any plot ideas? Do jackalopes exist? Do they? DO THEY?!