INTO THE WILD

By Emom

These good fellows don't belong to me, but I promise when I'm done to pick um up, dust um off and with a kiss on the cheek return them safely home.

Action is the antidote to despair. ~Joan Baez

A/N: You guys are beautiful and inspiring. Thank you! Because the days will get more complicated, it's hard to fit it into one chapter without being horribly long. So forgive the break and know more is coming soon.

CHAPTER 6

It was still dark out, and sleep was tormenting him with bad dreams of frozen bodies and dead friends. Chet rolled over on the couch and realized he wasn't the only one awake at this early morning hour as voices filtered through his sleep fogged brain. Sitting up he found Mike, Paul, and Hank sitting around the table nursing coffee cups and laughing as they shared stories. Wearily, he pushed the blanket off and decided to join them. Anything was better than what he had just seen in his sleep.

"Morning sleeping beauty," Hank laughed as Chet tried to tame his hair with his fingers.

"What time is it?"

Mike looked at his watch, "almost 3."

Chet groaned.

"Here, have some joe," Paul said pushing a cup towards him.

"Thanks, Cap."

"So," Paul continued. "We get called out at 3am. Now, by this time we had been on what Hank? Ten runs?"

"It felt like a hundred," he groaned.

"At least ten. We were beat. Jacks had rescued two kids from a house; Larry got that old man out of the garage fire, and even ole Carter had pulled out a kicking and screaming teen from a crushed car that day. Then we had ole Hank here, wet behind the ears, just out of the academy and already feeling inadequate."

"I wasn't.."

"AS I WAS SAYING," Paul raised his voice with a big grin. "This dork helps us put out this house fire at 3am, everyone had gotten out before we arrive and it was a pretty routine call."

"Dork," Chet laughed under his breath until he saw the glaring stare from his Captain. "Sorry Cap."

"Then out of the blue, this guy comes rushing out of the house with this mangy looking pathetic cat, covered in soot, trying to claw the coat off his arms. He was so proud of himself. The family rushes over and takes the poor cat and profusely thanks him, the hero of the night."

"Nice Cap," Mike said.

"Well," Hank smiled. "It wasn't that heroic."

They sat waiting for him to finish the breath. "They had harassed me all day about all those rescues, telling me I didn't have what it takes, and I wasn't gonna make the cut." He leaned forward. "So, when I was in the kitchen and everyone was out of the house I opened the back door. In runs this ratty looking cat who starts rubbing all over my legs. So I picked him up, rubbed soot all over him and ran out the door like the house was going to come down around me."

Hank and Paul died laughing. Mike smirked; he always knew his Captain was smarter than the average bear. Chet joined in only when he was sure he wouldn't get in trouble for it.

"To this day I'm the only one of the crew that knows the truth."

Hank eyed Chet firmly. "And it's going to stay that way, right Kelly?"

"Oh yea, Cap, sure, won't hear a peep from me Cap."

Although, Mike had a feeling this wasn't the end of it.

"We had three rookies at one point," Paul started again. "The prank wars were nonstop."

"Pranks?" Chet was awake now.

"Paul," Hank warned.

The Captain laughed with no intentions of stopping at that point. "We had one guy that got up in the middle of every night to prowl through his locker. He thought he was quiet, but someone kept getting woken up by it so they decided to get revenge. Kid goes to his locker at one a.m. and quietly unlatches it." Paul made tip toe motions as he talked. "And when he opens it, a siren starts going off." He started laughing. "Everyone in the station jumps up and runs to the trucks except the one who already knew what it was." He turned to Hank.

"You Cap?" Chet said in awe.

"He never went to his locker at one in the morning anymore," Hank said with a cock of his head. "Besides, I was due some payback after what that crew put me through."

"You were the pigeon?" Mike said with a smile.

"I had my share Pally that's for sure. Once, we'd had a day from hell. All I did was fall asleep on the couch before dinner and the next thing I know some crazy guy in a Halloween mask is waking me up with a chainsaw."

Everyone laughed again.

"I fell off the couch, landed on the poor dog who spent the next two hours hiding in the bunk room under the desk." Hank chuckled. He looked over at Chet with a napkin and pen. "Kelly, what are you doing?"

"These are great ideas Cap, just making sure I don't forget them is all," Chet replied with a serious look on his face.

"Great, just what you need is more ideas," Mike scoffed.

"Any more stories Cap?" Chet asked eagerly.

"No," Hank barked then smiled. "It's safer for us all if we stop here. Hit they hay and try to get a couple of hours sleep; we are heading out at dawn."

Five days. It'd been five days of misery, terror and hardship and Johnny felt deeper than ever that time was running out for them. The sky had lightened outside the cave, still grey and cloud covered, but the winds were less torrent and the snowfall now minimal. Kicking up the coals he knew getting a morning fire going would mentally and physically prepare them for the day ahead.

Today they had to find that ranger station. He fought down the panic that it could have been destroyed long ago leaving the only next possibility of hiking all the way out to the main road, at least another three days in this weather at best. The knot in his gut told him it would be too late for Roy and the others by then. They had to find help and it had to be today.

"How much farther do you think," Mark asked him as he wrapped his feet and put his shoes back on.

"About three hours I think. See this?" He pointed to the map.

"I hope that's not what I think it is."

"Sure is and I have no idea if it's still there."

"And if it's not?"

Johnny shook his head. "Let's just say we better start praying."

As Mark shoved stuff in his bag Johnny ventured over to Jason, who was still sound asleep. Curled up in the smallest space possible the man had his arms wrapped around his body with his head resting on his pack. Johnny reached down to waken him when something caught his eye. He knelt for a closer look. The zipper had slid up about four to five inches and the only thing he could see sent a chill through his heart.

It was quiet, peaceful with the sky becoming lighter revealing a tranquil scene. The plane and everything around it layered with white, smaller traces of the earlier disaster now covered.

No one stirred.

No one moved.

Chet woke again to soft talking in the day-room only this time the sun was starting to peek through the windows of the kitchen.

"There has to be a way to get up to SAR today," he leaned back in the chair. Hank refused to let snowed in roads force them back home to sit and wait.

"They'll get back to the ground searches today," Paul said as he sipped his fresh hot coffee. "But, sounds like it will take hours to clear the roads and I'm not sure how hard they will push that with the second front moving in tonight.

"I just refuse to turn around and go home. There has to be other options."

Chet rolled over on his back. He could hear the frustration in Hank's voice and he silently resolved to himself that he wouldn't return until Roy and Johnny had been found. There wasn't any secret connection between him, Johnny and Roy, but common sense was clear and gut instinct was screaming at him, time was running out for his friends.

Johnny held his breath, for how long he wasn't sure as several scenarios passed through this mind. In a split second decision, he tried to grab the bag out from under Jason's head. The move was instantly countered by the now awake man who reacted with his own instant panic. As Johnny struggled to get to his feet, Jason already has his own feet against the kneeling legs, pushing him hard and knocking the medic off-balance. With the bag now in his complete control Jason jumped to his feet and backed up several feet before Mark even knew what had happened.

"Stay away from me!" Jason growled at them both.

Johnny clambered to his feet as Mark moved past him to confront the other man. He quickly reached out and stopped him, "Mark, no!"

Jason stopped moving backwards and when he seemed comfortable with the distance of safety. "That's right. Keep your buddy boy away from me before he regrets his decision."

Mark was completely confused and Johnny was too busy putting a safe distance between them and Jason.

Johnny held his hand out. "Look man, I don't know what your game is, but we're not here to interfere. We're just trying to get out of here, same as you."

Jason knelt, resting his knee on the ground and dropping the bag in front of him. "It was bound to come out sooner or later I guess with all this shit going down. Best we get to know each other a little better now and understand who's really in charge around here."

Johnny and Mark watched him unzip the worn green backpack, letting the front fold down to show the multiple wrapped packs of money.

"Oh my God," Mark exclaimed in shock.

"Beautiful isn't it? One point five million." He held a pack up to his nose and took in a deep breath. "Have you ever smelled Heaven before fella's?" The sarcasm dripped in his tone. No longer the poor innocent victim that he had portrayed.

"Bank?" Johnny asked, trying to imagine where a man like him would get that much cash. Jason didn't seem smart enough to pull something this big off by himself.

"More like protection earnings. I don't get my hands dirty like that though. Let's just say I acquired this off the hands of someone who wasn't very careful with his belongings."

The panic continued to rise in Johnny. It was too much money. We're not talking petty criminal stuff here, Johnny thought to himself. Protection payouts? This is big, like mob big. He still had his hand on Mark and could feel the man trying to move forward. His grip remained hard and tight.

He knew what else was in that bag.

"So, you have money and are in charge. What's next?" Johnny asked cautiously.

Jason reached into the bag and pulled out a handgun. "Well, the way I see it this pretty much lets me do whatever I want now doesn't it?"

Mark's eyes got big. "How the hell did you get that past security?"

"Actually, it was just a stroke of good luck, seems the Pilot didn't feel completely safe around his passengers."

Johnny let out a sigh. "The cockpit when we got the bodies out."

"My reward for having to deal with those mangled idiots who almost got us killed. I figured they owed me."

The arm in Johnny's hand relaxed and he knew it was safe to let go.

"But, I'm not stupid Johnny boy. You're my ticket out of this place and I know you will do anything to save your friend. Won't you?"

He had the perfect hostage and all three men knew it. "You let me do my job and I'll get us out of here."

"Good," he said as he zipped up the bag, tucked the gun in his belt and slung the pack over his back.

"Then let's get this pony show on the road."

Mike joined the other firemen in helping to make breakfast while Marco and Chet got all the blankets and pillows put away and helped with morning chores. Tom finished up then sat at the table to study the detailed map of the Sierra Mountains and its trails while Hank and Paul were still in the office making phone calls.

"Thanks for doing this," Mike told Rick.

"Kinda a treat for us too, we never get breakfast before going off shift," he chuckled.

"Captain Hurley seems like a good guy."

Rick nodded. "He's hard but fair. Can't complain about that."

They worked at setting the simple breakfast out on the table for everyone. As they gathered around and began eating they continued to talk, comparing run calls for the stations and telling fireman tale that only comrades would understand.

Shortly, the two Captains joined them.

"What's the plan Cap," Marco asked.

"Ground crews have already headed to the target search area, here," Hank marked the area with a red pen on the map. "But, they can't get choppers in the air until the winds ease up later this morning." Hank scooped up some scrambled eggs. "They are putting some fixed wing in the air to survey a larger area, from here to here." He drew a circle around the target zone.

"They could easily miss a small crashed plane," Chet said worriedly.

"You're right Pally and there's no way we can get up to the main search center today, maybe not for a few days. However; Paul and I have come up with an alternate plan."

Paul stood up and leaned over the map next. "They know you fella's want to help, and have the skills to do it. So, after talking to them about options they've decided to send you here," he pointed to a tiny location called Manzanita.

"But, that's nowhere near where they think it went down," Chet complained, feeling like they were being sent to chase their tales and not actually helping.

"Even they fully expect for that search area to grow over the next hours and days. They have to start out at last contact and projected trajectory. Hank and I talked and we agree, that plane is much further south than they will look today."

Mike stood up and leaned over the map. "What's the weather look like in this area?" He traced his finger around the town of Manzanita.

Hank nodded and knew the direction his engineer was thinking. "A little better than further north. The smaller roads are closed and won't be plowed today, but the winds are calmer allowing a chopper search."

Mike looked up. "So, we can go up today?"

Paul smiled. "I know this guy. He owns his own plane and chopper with a private airstrip. He's been known to more than once work with the rescue teams for lost hikers or pull out injured folks. If you guys are willing to go outside the official zone, he'll help you. And, his place puts you right at the foot of the Sierra. "

Hank tapped the map. "I think it's our best chance to help out. No way we are getting up north today and another front will hit tonight. With them tackling the north and if, we come in from the south; we have a greater chance of finding them today."

Marco, Chet, Mike, and Tom nodded in agreement.

"Good," Paul started. "His name is Hershel Cooper, goes by Coop. He also has a few rescue supplies of his own from what I hear, but anything you bring will be appreciated."

Hank stood up and pushed his chair back. "Then that's where we are heading."

Roy's thoughts felt thick, if that was even a way to describe it. He pushed his way up from the floor and bumped into Megan, who cried a bit.

"Shhh, it's just me." He held a water bottle to her dried lips and attempted to give her some, but she wouldn't swallow at all. Her eyes didn't even open this time. Reaching down to make sure her covers were secure he bent down and kissed her on the top of the head.

"Hang in there, for your mom and for me," he whispered to her.

Moving into the aisle, he leaned heavily on the seats, his balance unstable since his legs felt nearly numb with the cold. He no longer knew what to do for the elderly couple; except to keep them covered and protected to the best of his abilities. Replacing the top blanket over them in a makeshift tent he then worked his way to the opening in the end. Outside the wind seemed to have calmed some and the snowfall was light.

He wasn't sure what the date was, his brain sluggish and not processing well. Still, the calmer weather could mean help would reach them today. The problem was the white world that surrounded him now. He tried to not lean on the yellow barrier, it was a miracle it had stayed in place during the storm. Roy tried to reattach the ripped pieces that were flapping in the breeze, but his fingers were stiff and too cold, making him struggle to get the flayed pieces back into place. It didn't take much to have him completely exhausted and out of breath. With frustration, he pushed them back out to do what they wanted to do.

Then he had an idea.

Johnny took the lead, followed by Mark, and lastly Jason. Their placement was for a purpose now, the guide, the middleman, then the controller. Johnny's feet crunched in the snow as the anger stirred in his gut. They had been through hell and now to find out that the devil walked among them? His distrust started when Jason's name wasn't on the passenger list. Instinct had told him something wasn't right and he had tucked it away, too busy dealing with the other thousand issues to listen anymore.

They worked their way down the slope which had a more gradual descent than the incline on the other side. The snowfall was light and the visibility significantly improved, still they kept stumbling and falling. So far there had been only minor falls with skin protected by layered clothing and wrapped hands. Johnny knew it was due to tired, poorly nourished, hypothermic bodies with feet that struggled in the bitter cold temperatures. Just some of the reasons to find that shelter today.

The terrain continued to gradually level and the walk was quiet. Johnny noted the landmarks in his head that correlated them with the wall map in the cave. Little things that not everyone would notice, like the smooth flat rocks that were stacked on top of each other like tiny towers, told a story to him.

"What is that?" Mark asked as they passed a stack of rocks nearly as high as them.

"It's a Cairn, a pile of rocks that mark the trail. They can last for years here."

"So, we're actually on a trail?" Mark sounded hopeful.

Johnny smiled. "So far. It's really hard to follow them in weather like this. No telling how many markers we've passed that are buried under the snow or ice."

Mark didn't look as excited about that prospect.

"Don't worry Pally, I know where we're headed."

After a while, they moved through a cluster of rock formations, taller than them with a narrow path forcing them into a single direction. When they cleared the rocks, they faced their first obstacle.

Mark came up behind him. "Please don't tell me we have to cross that, it looked a lot better on the wall."

Johnny couldn't argue with him. "I have to agree with you there."

Before them was a cliff edge into a ravine with a set of rapids below. Stretching from their side to the other was a rope bridge. Johnny estimated at least four hundred feet to the other side and probably three hundred feet straight down for them. The main rope cables on each side held smaller crisscross ropes which connected to the lined planks as the flooring. Now, this would be intimating in the summer, clear of ice and snow, with each board visible, and maintained by the forestry service.

But in February?

Even Jason looked intimidated. "You have got to be kidding me. Isn't there another way around?"

Johnny pulled out the map, he already knew the answer, but this was daunting enough to double-check.

"There is, but it's about fifteen miles due North." He looked up to the noon day sky and the thickening of clouds. "And by the look of that sky, if we don't find shelter tonight, this gorge is the least of our problems."

Jason looked up, then across the bridge. "Well then, seems Mark is the winner. He gets to go across and test it for us."

Johnny shot him a look. "No, I'll go. I'll test it out."

"I don't think so," Jason scoffed. "If you don't make it I lose my guide and if you do make it you have no reason to wait for us to get over before taking off. No, sorry, the future Marine goes first," he waved the gun at him. "If he makes it across then you and I go together Johnny Boy."

Johnny pointed to the bridge as it swung in the breeze. "That isn't going to hold two people at one time."

"Well, you had better hope it can." He pointed the gun towards Mark. "Get moving."

With a nod of encouragement from Johnny, Mark cautiously moved to the first step.

"Just don't rush it," Johnny cautioned him. "Careful."

"Oh, careful is one word I understand right now," Mark said as he took another step.

He could feel the swaying of the narrow bridge under his feet, his hands gripping the thick rope on each side as he put his full weight on the pathway. His heart was in his throat and knew that now wasn't a good time to mention how much he hated heights. One step at a time he moved, testing the plank with his toes, first making sure one even existed under the hard ice. A brisker breeze brought dread as his feet slid toward the edges, the rough rope creaking under his hands as if moaning into the cold air its protest. Instinct had him quickly squat to maintain stability, his arms shaking with the death grip he maintained on the main ropes.

"Mark!" He heard Johnny shout into the wind though he didn't dare look back.

"I'm okay." If only those words rung truer in his own ears. "Yea, okay," he said more to himself.

"I got this," he called out louder again.

When the wind eased and the swaying lessened he straightened up and tried to move a little faster, limited by the sliding of his shoes and the inability to look anywhere but straight down at each step. He didn't even realize when he reached the other side until he almost tripped over the rise in terrain from plank to a snow bank. He looked up with almost joyous relief on his face only to realize Johnny was now crossing, prodded on by an armed man.

so cold hard to rite, cant feel fingrs much
think mrs winters gone, not sure shes cold and my fingers too cold for pulse
megan no drinking now what little rations we have can't eat to cold
chest burns tired
so tired
if no one comes today not sure we can make thru anothr nite
please let the others get out
done all i can. message done mus slep

The trip to Coopers had taken less time than expected. What was unexpected was the property they pulled up to.

"You sure this is the right place Cap?" Chet asked for the tenth time.

"Yes, Kelly, this is it."

He pulled up and parked beside an old, 1950's red pickup truck that was rusted all over, missing a door and had a bed full of something covered with a tarp. This was the kind of vehicle you didn't risk your money on betting it would even run. The house, well single wide trailer, before them, looked like a good breeze would blow it over. They suspected the high piles of boxes and random junk that lined the outside walls were actually helping to keep it standing.

"Cap."

"Shut up Kelly."

Exiting the truck the five men approached the wooden stairs with misgivings. Unwilling to trust the integrity of the wood, Hank stepped over the two broken planks and onto the creaking front porch. It was snowing lightly outside, cold and windy, yet the front door stood wide open.

"Hello?" Hank called inside. "Anyone home?"

The first sound was the ear-piercing barking and growling from a dog that suddenly appeared behind them, causing the rest to dash up to the porch alongside their Captain. No longer was anyone worried if the structure would hold them.

"Easy there fella," Marco tried to woo the creature, to no avail as it continued to bark incessantly.

"Dang you Lucky, I told you they were coming now didn't I?"

The man coming up behind the howling dog was older, bald, wearing faded jeans and a leather bomber jacket. Hank wasn't sure which was more absurd; that the man heading toward them was carrying a rifle, or because he called the dog with no tail, one ear, endless scars and possibly mange, Lucky.

Once the man had the dog by the collar Hank dared to step forward and address him.

"Mr. Cooper? Hershel Cooper?"

The man smiled warmly. "Just call me Coop. And this here is Lucky. Don't mind his bark, he's almost deaf and can't hear himself," he laughed. Stepping up to Hank. "You must be Stanley."

Hank shook his hand. "Yes Sir, this is my crew from the station, Marco, Chet, Mike, and Tom."

The men reached out and shook his hand feeling more at ease with Lucky sitting quietly at his Master's feet and the man's friendly nature.

"Welcome," he said stepping back. "I won't waste your time with tea and cookies," he chuckled. "I know you boys have a lot of worry on your minds, so let's see what we can do to find your friends." Turning, he headed to his red truck. "Follow me fella's. I'll show you how I can help."

Johnny couldn't focus on the gun behind him or even the possibility of not making it to the other side. He hadn't come this far to let a bridge get between him and saving those he had left behind. He kept his eyes on his feet, watching every step and tried to keep a steady pace. The sounds of slipping behind him were matched with the jerky motions of the rope in his hands as Jason struggled to keep his own footing. Johnny wouldn't wish the man to fall, criminal or not, but if he didn't slow down, the idiot would manage to take them both out. So, he released a deep breath and slowed his pace, hoping it would be enough.

It worked. Jason slowed down and the bridge calmed beneath them. He took one plank at a time, counting them, 55, 56, 57 and so on. Gradually, the other side was coming closer as they walked in silence.

As soon as 98 passed through his thoughts that board broke beneath his foot sending him straight through the ragged gap.

He could hear Mark yelling in the foreground and Jason screaming in the rear, but all he could focus on was not letting go. His right leg was literally all that was keeping him from going all the way through, holding onto the side rope with all its might, gripped under his knee. When he realized his momentum had stopped and he wasn't going to the bottom of the gorge he tried to slow his racing heartbeat, take a deep breath and work on getting back up. Now, his own tired, cold arms were the ones shaking.

"What do you want me to do?" Jason asked.

"Nothing!" Johnny gasped out. "Don't touch me and for God's sake don't move this bridge!"

This was the wrong time for his body to be exhausted, drained with muscles that felt like jello. It took all his effort to keep a firm enough grasp on the rope to pull him up to where he could sit on the board behind him. He untangled his right leg then propped the left one up so he could see it.

"Damn it," he swore when he saw the gash at his mid-calf on the outside of his leg. The splintered edge of the wood had ripped through his pants and into his skin. There was nothing he could do about it here. He had to get them the hell off this bridge first.

There was no more counting. He didn't care if was a thousand boards he just wanted to hit solid ground again. When he reached Mark, he had never felt the urge to kiss the ground as much as he did at the moment. Walking to the nearest rock, he sat down. He needed a moment to rest, to get his blood pressure back down, and to stop the bleeding from his cut.

"We're not stopping here," Jason said.

"He's hurt," Mark replied sharply.

"I don't give a shit if he's hurt or not, we have to keep moving."

Johnny pulled a shirt out of his bag and began pressing on the cut, making him suck in air through his teeth. "We won't get very far if I can't walk. Five minutes then we go." It wasn't a request and he knew that Jason didn't have a choice. If the guide is down, the whole team is down.

Wrapping the shirt around his leg, he pulled tight to keep the pressure on the wound and stood up on it. It hurt, but he was still perfectly mobile which was all that was needed at this point.

"I wasn't sure there for a few minutes," Mark said quietly to him.

Johnny's eyes widened. "You're telling me."

"Stop the chit chatting and let's get going."

With a quick review of the map, Johnny started walking with the knowledge that the station should be within a stone's throw in the next hour. For the first time in two days, he could see a possible light at the end of this very long dark tunnel.

A/N: I'd like to thank Nancy for pointing out my use of the term SUV. My bad, it's a label not really popular until the 90's. I did research vehicles before putting it into the story because it helps me to picture the guys driving down the road. Look up 1976 IH Scout II Traveller. This is what my brain envisioned for Hank to drive the crew northwards.

Thanks again for everyone's support. Please keep letting me know how you think it's going.