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.

No man ever sank under the burden of the day. It is when tomorrow's burden is added to the burden of today that the weight is more than a man can bear. ~George MacDonald

A/N: Thank you so much for being patient. My girls and I are still out of the country on vacation. I didn't forget about you! Thanks for all your wonderful feedback and keep it coming!


CHAPTER 7

Hank drove the truck, following behind the old red Ford, past the trailer, and through a junkyard which ended at a large wooden double gate. The doors were already open leading them to a small rise in elevation. As they topped the hill and descended into the valley floor the site before them left them speechless. He parked next to Coop and they piled out with eyes surveying the life-sized open air museum that sprawled out before them. They looked around like kids in a candy store.

"This is amazing," Mike said first.

"Thank you Son. Just a small collection I've worked on over the years."

Coop led the way as they walked through a field full of wartime antiques. They passed a couple of bombers, three P-51's with one so sleek Tom couldn't help but reach up and trail his fingertips along the wing. It seemed that everywhere they looked were miscellaneous parts, disassembled wings, used tires and at least four partially constructed fixed winged small aircraft. When they rounded a corner, a log cabin became visible sitting next to a landing strip.

"It's made of grass?" Marco almost sounded slightly panicked.

"This isn't a commercial airfield son. Grass and sod can't crack in the bitter temperatures so keeps the maintenance low and works just fine to get me up and down."

Hank wasn't listening anymore. All he could see was a perfect condition fixed wing and even more surprising, a helicopter. He looked for Cooper to see him watching him.

"Very nice."

Coop nodded his head with a grin. "Those are my babies. A Cessna Skyhawk, she's a classic. Just got her last summer from a guy that wanted one of my bombers for his museum. Got a good price too. She's always ready to fly at a moment's notice."

"And that?" Chet asked about the helicopter.

"Yep, nice isn't she."

Chet nodded.

"It's a Bell 204. That girl and I have dumped an ocean of water on fires over the years. She's an older model but cuts through the sky like butter on a hot day."

Hank chuckled. He liked Coop already.

They headed into the building to find a warm and inviting home. The front room had a large picture window with an over sized desk complete with an up to date radio system and working weather radar. Nearby was a stocked kitchen then a hallway leading to the bedrooms and bathroom. The living area held a large stone fireplace with a crackling fire begging them to come closer and warm up cold hands.

"I guess you'd like to know a little about me before going up." He passed them coffee cups and took the pot to fill each up. "I may live a simple life out here, but I can get you up and back safely. I did three tours in WW2 flying a B29 Bomber on long distance missions then two tours in Korea flying a H19 Chicksaw chopper." He sat down with them. "I joined the local rescue groups years ago to help out and provide them some air coverage. Now, I'll admit I'm not an on the ground man. But I can get you there and back."

Hank got serious. "You get us there and back and we will get our men off the ground."

"Then let's talk about where we're headed."


It was the most beautiful site he had ever seen.

When the small green building on stilts appeared before them, Mark let out a cheer and Jason just seemed to sigh with relief. For Johnny, he had mixed feelings. He hoped it had a radio, he prayed that the radio would work, and now had to worry about Jason's plans for them when they were no longer needed. He wasn't convinced the man was a killer, but then, over a million dollars could change a sane man into a rash decision maker.

And, they still had to get there. They had emerged at the top of a rock wall edge with the trail visible below and then a small climb to reach the steps up to the station. It was completely do-able, just easier when you could trust the ones helping you get there. Mark looked to Johnny as they pondered the easiest way to get down the rocks. In a typical situation, it would be fine. Here though? Jason was going to have to put the gun away and trust them and Johnny didn't see that happening.

"Can we do this without climbing gear?" Mark asked.

"Possible. We're just going to have to take it slow and careful. There's plenty of hand and footholds from what I can see." Johnny stretched to see over the lip of the edge.

He turned around to Jason. "This is going to take two hands."

Jason pondered his predicament. "Then you'll go first."

This decision was of no surprise to Johnny. The cabin was right in front of them now and Jason had no reason to fear he would run off anywhere at this point. Below them was open ground and the man probably wouldn't have any difficulty picking him with the gun if he felt suddenly inclined to do so. He also had no idea how much climbing experience Mark had and knew he had the greatest chance of making it down and locating the safest path along the way. Johnny took off his makeshift gloves, needing to feel the rocks to locate the best grips. His hands were cold; his fingers scratched up and battered from the last few days of survival.

The lack of sunshine during the day meant ice in cracks and crevices could post a problem. There would be no way for him to know it was there until he was sliding. It wasn't the best of circumstances, but they were too close now and stopping to worry about what could happen was a luxury he couldn't afford. Taking his time he lowered himself off the edge, allowing his feet to find something solid before putting his full weight on it. He knew he was once again he was asking his cold, exhausted, and battered body to push itself to the limit.

"How's it look Johnny?" Mark called down.

He was about halfway there when he had to pause and catch his breath in the cold air. Slow and careful was the only way to tackle it. Along the way, he passed several carabiner clips and camalot's that were still lodged into the rock and had been left. He mentally tucked away the knowledge of the climber's equipment in case later needed.

"Icy in spots. Gonna have to take it slow," he called back up. Landing with a solid thud he winced at the pain that shot up his leg and reached down to rub it. Looking up he waved the others of his safe arrival and to begin their descent.

"Move back," Jason yelled down to him. "This time you're last," he said to Jason as he moved to the spot where Johnny descended. "And stay back until I'm down." He kept motioning until Mark was well away from the rocky face. Only then did he tuck the gun in his belt and begin the descent towards Johnny.

As Jason moved further from the top, he saw Mark reappear on the edge. Johnny saw the look Mark was sending him. Take him out. Johnny quickly shook his head 'no' back at him. This wasn't the time and place to risk it. He had to make sure Roy and the others had help coming first because if anything went wrong, and someone else was hurt because of his actions, he would never forgive himself. There would be time soon and shelter was so close he could taste it. There was no way he was going to risk it.

He did however gesture to his belt and mouth one word. Clips. Mark shot him a thumbs up.

Jason's movements were less graceful, less sure, and hurried as usual. Johnny cringed more than once at possible falls until the man was safely on the ground in front of him. Last thing he needed was the guy falling, getting critically injured or that gun going off in the chaos. With his feet safely back on the ground, Jason proceeded to put Johnny between him and the rock then motioned for Mark to begin the descent. Mark showed his ability to learn quickly as he steadily made the descent without incident. Jason grumbled at how easy Mark made it look compared to his fumbling climb. Johnny looked on with an encouraging nod of his head. There was potential in this want to be rescue man.

In short order, everyone was back under the watchful eye of a man and his pistol.

Johnny looked up as the winds started to pick up, noting the sky once again looking ominous. "Another front coming in tonight," Johnny said.

"Think it'll be as bad as last night?" Mark asked knowing where Johnny's concerns were.

He shook his head. "No way to know for sure. But, I sure hope we won't be here to find out. Let's get out of here."

Reaching the two story building didn't take long after that. It was positioned on a hillside with a long wooden staircase going from the top porch to where the porch stilts met the ground. The climb was tiring, but it was a great feeling knowing what was ahead of them now. They stepped on the large front porch with picture windows giving an unblocked view of the incredible landscape. Johnny opened up the front screen door to find the main door, unsurprisingly, locked.

"Now what?" Jason complained.

Mark stepped in front of Johnny and with a good swift kick the door swung open. He turned to see Johnny's unsure reaction.

"It's not like we have lock picking tools," Mark said and shrugged his shoulders.

Johnny pressed his eyebrows together. "You know how to pick locks?"

"Inner city schools. You learn a lot by the fourth grade."

Jason rolled his eyes. "Enough, in," he quipped.

For the first time in five days, they entered a safe haven.


"You're sure it's safe to go up in this?" Chet and Marco exchanged glances with the same question. Johnny and Roy had been trained for flight transport through the medic program, but these two linemen were solid earth beneath their feet men.

Coop gave them a thumbs up, and then tapped on his headpiece to remind the others to put theirs on. Hank nodded to the men with confidence. For the first time since, all this had started he felt empowered. He knew they were on the right path and finally doing something helpful and possibly life saving. It was time to find the others. With clearance for take-off, the chopper rose into the sky and headed northeast into the mountains.

"Remember," Coop said over the headphones. "Anything out of place, reflective, doesn't match the terrain."

The others replied with thumbs up and began the hunt. Hank rode up front with Coop, while the other four men plastered themselves to the large side windows. They knew it was a shot in the dark to be searching this far South of the Yosemite team, but Coot agreed with Hank and Paul. The chances of them being off course were high, and just because the official search team was obligated to follow the flight plan of the plane, it didn't mean they had to stick to it. They were also far enough south that, for the moment, they were clear of the bad weather that was moving in from the North again. This meant more time to search and Hank wanted every moment they could get. Time was running out in more ways than one.


The place had obviously been shut down for the winter, but it actually seemed to be in good shape and recently used over the summer hiking months. There were two small bedrooms, one set up like a first aid station with two twin beds and the other for the Ranger. The cozy living area was complete with couch, lounge chair, and a round dining room table with four chairs. A wood burning stove stood in the corner with a stack of dried firewood.

"Thought this place was just for summer?" Mark asked.

"Even in the summer higher elevations can get cool after dark," Johnny answered though his feet kept moving, past the living area and kitchen, to the office on the other side. Inside was a long desk with radio equipment on it and a couple of chairs. Sliding into one of the chairs, he began flipping switches to turn the system on. Power buttons lit up and Johnny suddenly realized he had been holding his breath. When a steady static came over the mike a surge of hope coursed through him.

Johnny waved his hands to the other two, "Look in those drawers, there should be location information and radio identifiers around here somewhere." He grabbed the mike as the other two began pulling out drawers in search of the information.

"Mayday, Mayday. This is Fireman John Gage calling from," he paused hoping for the station identifier.

They kept searching through the empty drawers with nothing clearly marked to identify where they were exactly. Even the large maps on the walls lacked the 'you are here' identifier he needed. Suddenly, Mark took the mike out of his hand and turned it upside down, revealing the station number taped to the bottom. Johnny flashed him a how?

Mark replied with a shrug, "my uncle had a HAM radio set up."

"Mayday, we are calling from Station 18, Sierra, Silver Mountain. Mayday, Mayday, do you read me?"

The line continued with static and he felt his frustration rise. "Mayday, this is an emergency, does anyone read me?"

"What now?" Jason asked as he leaned against the back wall next to a window.

Johnny swiveled the chair around. "We keep trying, over and over."

Mark looked the window next to him. "Maybe if we check the antenna, especially with the recent storm, to make sure the signal is getting the boost. Someone will need to go on the roof."

"Guess that will be you hotshot," Jason snarked back. He looked back to Johnny, "you stay put."

Johnny shrugged, "where am I gonna go?"


Three hours in a search pattern and they had found nothing. Heading back for refueling, both bodies and chopper, they tried to not feel disappointed. The days were short and they knew time wasn't going to be on their side. And this whole thing was a shot in the dark to begin with. Coop dropped them off near cabin to get food while he went to refuel the helicopter. While waiting they laid out the map and circled where they had been, narrowing down the next options based on weather, distance, and accessibility. The break was short and as soon as possible they were back in the air aiming for the next search grid.

They were far from giving up.


"Antenna is trashed. I guess the snow was too heavy on it. I did my best to get it back up so maybe some kind of signal can get out, but no promises."

Johnny slid his arm across the desk in frustration, sending the papers flying onto the ground with a hard grunt. Mark wasn't sure what to say. He felt the same frustration and Jason lurking over them at every moment now wasn't helping the situation. Now it was getting close to dinner time and they seemed no closer to finding help than when they left the plane.

"Mayday," Johnny called into the mike. "Mayday, we have an emergency." His voice nearly choked with desperation.

Mark looked up to Jason. "Let's look around. We need to see if there's any food stored around here."

There was no argument from the man. They were all famished with trail mix rations long gone.

"Johnny?"

He waved them off with a nod, knowing where they were headed and kept talking to the silver box in hopes that someone out there would hear them.

The small kitchen and bedrooms were bare, pretty much as expected with the station in winter shutdown. In the hallway there was a door, presumably leading to the basement and a possible storage area. Using the little flashlight strength that was left he prowled around and found a battered looking generator.

"Please work," he mumbled to no one in particular.

"Anything else down there?" Jason called from the top of the stairs.

Mark grunted with frustration. "There's a generator, but no fuel that I can see."

He wandered around the room edges and came across a large tarp covering a snowmobile. It looked weathered and in bad shape, but still a possible exit route if needed. Once again, needing fuel.

Next he came across some wooden shelves line with boxes. "Boxes," he said loudly.

"Any food yet?"

"Not yet." The first two were full of files and random paperwork, although he did find a stack of maps wrapped together with a rubber band. One box held candles and a couple of lighters; another held some hiking gear, including belts. Mark knew both boxes could possibly be valuable to them at some point in the near future. In the corner, he found a small box that had never been opened before. Inside were a hand full of stale crackers, an empty jar of peanut butter and a bag of unopened coffee beans.

"Coffee," Johnny said dreamily when they got back upstairs. "What I wouldn't give for a cup of hot, black coffee right now."

"Yea, beans, no grinder or coffee maker around. And I'm assuming no water." Mark chuckled then watched Johnny grow quiet again. "What's our next step?"

Johnny was torn. They were utterly exhausted and in desperate need of food, rest and warmth. It was at least three more days to a main road and there was no way to get back to Roy before the next storm hit. Leaving at dark was the most dangerous option due to weather and the fact that now in the lower elevations they were sure to eventually come across more wildlife than random deer.

"We can't go anywhere tonight. If we haven't made any contact by morning, we will make for the main roads. I'll make a list of things we can use. We'll get it and be back in before dark. The temperatures are dropping fast."

Jason and Mark agreed. Out and back, fast.


Third time fueling up, frustrations were rising and time was running out. Also, the possible search areas in the chopper were almost completed due to both distance, and how long he had been flying. That meant moving to a fixed wing, which couldn't happen until morning, and the possibility of that was slim to none as they continued to watch the storm move closer.

Chet kept his face pressed against the window, nearly to the point of pain as the ice cold glass almost burned his skin. All he could see was white, brown, green, white, brown and green. It was a sea of sameness that was mind numbing and yet exhausting at the same time. In his frustration, he started mumbling to himself.

"White, white, brown, white, green."

He forgot the radio was on with the headsets. The others understood the frustration and simply ignored him.

"Brown, white, white, green, white."

The man could honestly say he hoped to never see snow again after all this. No wonder snow blindness was a real thing.

"White, white, green, brown, yellow, white, green."

Hanks head shot back to him. "Chet, what did you say?"

"Just the same stuff Cap," he was exhausted at this point, like the others.

"No, you said yellow. I heard him too Cap," Mike said over the speakers.

Then Chet's eyes got wide.

Yellow.


They searched around the outside of the cabin for anything they might use. There was a mountain bike with flat tires leaning against a large metal storage box. Inside they found a tent, a couple of camping chairs, plenty of climbing rope and a beach ball that had a hole in it.

"Jason, work on collecting kindling," Johnny told him as he searched for useful plants.

"How the hell am I supposed to know what kindling is?"

Johnny tried to stay patient. "Twigs, small sticks, pine cones."

Jason huffed and started searching around the tree line while keeping a safe distance and eye on the two men.

"What are going to do about him?" Mark whispered.

"Right now, nothing. Our only goal is to get help to the others at this point. We keep Jason calm and give him no extra reasons to worry about us."

"We can't let him get away with this," Mark said through a clamped down jaw.

"That's exactly what we're going to do for a while. I don't care in the least about that money. If Roy," he paused and let out a breath. "When Roy and the others are safe, we will deal with Jason. Until then, we keep clear of him."

"What are you two talking about over there?" Jason barked at them.

Johnny held up a plant root. "Arnica Montana root, good for sore muscles and bruises."

Jason rolled his eyes and went back to what he was doing.

"Mark, promise me you won't give him any reason to pull out that gun," Johnny softly pleaded with him.

"I won't. For now."

Johnny knew that was the best he could get at this point. He understood the man's anger and frustration, but they needed more time.

Just a little more time.


"This is as close as I can get you," Coop called to them as Hank gave a thumbs up. "I can't sit here long or we'll be grounded too in these temperatures."

They were losing daylight fast and the temperature drop was creeping into their bones. Coop set down within site of the wreckage and everyone quickly piled out. The visual of the broken plane had sent pure terror into them, fearing the worst. Literally nothing had been visible from the air, but thin flaps of something yellow blowing in the breeze like warning flags on the beach.

Dressed in full protective gear from the cold, the group hit the ground with bags of supplies and heaviness in their hearts. Each man had a full backpack, not sure what would be needed, they carried rope, first aid supplies, water and flashlights. Depending on how many had survived and how hurt they were would determine if they loaded up with Coop, or had to wait for an evac chopper. The scene was quiet and devoid of life signs. The first thing they came across were three mounds of wood, covered with snow, leaving little resemblance to their original purpose.

"What the hell?" Chet said as they passed them, his breath thick in the cold air.

"Survivors," Tom said as he kept moving. "They made smoke fires to draw attention."

"Survivors," Marco whispered to himself as they all quickened the pace, at least as fast as the deep snow would allow.

They heard the change in sound from the rotors and watched as Coop lifted off. Hank knew it was possible he couldn't sit still long. Their coordinates had already been radioed to SAR central command and help now know where to come. Until then, Coop would circle until they radioed for him.

"Dear God," Hank exclaimed as they passed between the two broken pieces of the plane.

To the left was the front section, resting at their level. Hank shined a bright flashlight into the open areas, seeing nothing moving and the snow appeared undisturbed around it.

"No way we're getting up there from here," Tom said as they looked straight up to the large open end of the back half. "Looks like the inflatable slide doesn't it?"

"Sure does. Someone used it as a barrier." Hank cupped his hands to his mouth. "HELLO! CAN ANYONE HEAR ME?!" He called as loud as he could, his voice echoing around them. "Check both sides, find us a way in."

Marco and Mike headed to one side while Tom, Hank and Chet to the other.

Mike quickly found a trail in the snow leading them to the side door.

"Cap, over here," Mike called out seeing the red shirt still tied to it.

It was hard to recognize it as a door due to the snow drift that wrapped around the end of the plane. If not for the red shirt they would have wasted even more time searching for a way in. With small shovels, they began digging and pushing snow to the side until it was free. Then it was obvious the door wouldn't open at all.

"It's gotta be frozen shut Cap," Mike said as he pulled with all his strength. "It's not budging."

Hank gritted his teeth in frustration. They were running out of light and time. He stepped back and looked towards the top of the plane.

"I can do it Cap," Chet said, knowing what he was thinking about.

With the plane on the ground and snow piled up around it, the risk of falling wasn't as dangerous. The question was could he keep his footing long enough to reach the end?

"Let's go."

Tom and Chet looped one end of the rope around the back fin of the plane. The other end was with Tom, who was right behind Chet. Climbing up to the back wasn't difficult, except the very back was narrow on top and keeping your footing was challenging. Both men finally got on their hands and knees to slowly crawl up the top and towards the breakage. Inching to the edge, he looked down to see the others waiting anxiously. Securing the rope through his safety belt, he tossed the rest down below. With Tom right behind him, Chet carefully got to his feet with a nod he slipped down below the edge.

His timing was perfect as he kicked his way through a piece of the barrier, right about mid level of the opening. Taking out his pocket knife, he began to enlarge the hole to fit through and quickly found his feet back on solid ground. Next, Tom lowered himself in with Chet's help and they waved to the rest of the crew below.

They turned around to find an eerie silence waiting for them. It was black inside, void of all ambient light, only their flashlights providing illumination on the ominous scene that greeted them. Chet wanted to run through the rows and find Johnny and Roy, but instead felt almost frozen in place by the sudden fear that no one could have survived like this. He felt a small push behind him from Tom.

"Let's get this door open," Tom said, feeling sure they were going to need more help. Their lights had seen at least three bodies sitting in the seats already.

With brute force and a few shoulder slams they managed to wedge the door open from the inside. Hank was the first one in to join them. He was instantly struck by the feeling of death that surrounded them. He struggled to keep his hope alive for survivors.

"Check every seat," he told them men.

Tom moved back towards the open end, to the first covered body he had seen. Pulling back the blanket and piles of clothing he found an elderly man with presumably his wife lying right up to him, his arms wrapped around her. Tom turned to Hank and shook his head. There were no pulses. Gently he returned the blankets to cover them. They shined their lights into all the rows of seats. It seemed as if every row was filled with something, boxes, emptied bags, drained soft drink cans, piles of clothing and unused pillows. Chet stood in the aisle at the seat just behind Tom and slid a blanket off to uncover a girl who was propped up against the window. She was ghastly white and unmoving. His heart sank. This wasn't how it was supposed to be.

This was his nightmare all over again.

"Kelly?"

Hank's voice drew him back to the girl and he pushed the blankets off her and to another pile in the floor next to her. She had a broken arm which was splinted with small branches, the same with her broken leg. Trying to get closer between the seats, he kicked something hard and looked down to see a rock.

"Cap, look at this." He traced the assembly of cut up seat belts and oxygen tubing to her broken leg.

"What the hell?" Tom said eyeing the contraption. "Is this a traction setup?"

Hank smiled. He only knew two men on this flight that could have come up with that. "They survived."

The others knew instantly what he meant. Then a miraculous sound was heard.

She moaned.

She was cold, barely conscious and basically unresponsive. But, she made a sound.

Marco worked on wrapping the blanket snug around her as they disconnected the pulley system from her leg in preparation for moving her out.

"Her pulse is only 50 Cap," Marco reported. "I can barely feel it."

"Hypothermia," Tom said. "She's critical. We have to be very careful in moving her Cap. We need her flat and as still as possible.

Overhead they could hear the returning chopper. Hank stepped back out of the cabin and radioed in they had a survivor and would be heading out soon. Mike pulled up his parka hood and followed him. Just outside the door he now noticed the makeshift sled.

"Hey, Cap, we can use this to move her."

Hank nodded and Mike began getting the accumulated snow off of it. Inside Marco rolled out the thick sleeping bag they had brought, in the narrow aisle.

"Let's get her in this first before we take her outside."

Hank reached over the seat and slipped his arms behind her and under her shoulders while Marco got her feet from the end.

"Easy does it, slowly. Too much movement or jostling can send her into a fatal arrhythmia."

They moved as gently as possible in the limited space and placed her on the blankets, positioning her arm across her chest. The blankets wrapped up around her for protection, and then additional layering with the sleeping bag helped to prepare her for the move. Tom knelt beside her and checked her pulse again. Until they were out of here, there was very little he could do for her. Reaching into his bag, he pulled out a handful of chemical heat packs.

"Here, pop all these and we'll place them around her body," he said tossing a handful to Marco.

Meanwhile, Hank and Chet sifted through the stack of papers and maps that were scattered all over the back seats. Maybe something held a clue as to where the others had gone. Hank opened one up and it had a black x on it.

"This is about where we are," he said pointing to it, trying to figure out what it might be telling them. However, the X was the only mark on it and the surrounding wilderness held no other clues for them.

"Cap, what about them?" Chet asked of the elderly couple.

He shook his head sadly. "The recovery team will be back as soon as possible."

"But, where's Johnny and Roy?"

The question was screaming in all their heads. One of them had made it that much was obvious. But, where were they? Had they gone for help? Were they somewhere nearby? It was dark now and Hank knew they had to get moving or they would all be stuck waiting on their own rescue.

"I don't know. We'll find them. Right now we have to get her out of here."

And like that the decision was made. She was barely alive and they had to focus on saving her. Chet and Marco both glanced around the small area and took note of the makeshift barrier, rations, used water bottles, remnants of bandages and the piles of clothes and blankets that littered the seats and floor. They'd never seen anything like it. Pure survival instinct had kicked in and it was obvious they had fought hard to make it.

Tom leaned in close as he saw the girl moving her lips. "Don't try to speak, we have you and you're going to be okay now."

She frowned though she didn't open her eyes, her lips moving still.

"What?" He asked and leaned in closer. Then his head shot up to Hank. "She's saying Roy, Cap!"

Everyone gathered around her. "Where?" they all seemed to ask at the same time.

"Roy," was all she would mouth.

"Let's get her out of here now," Hank said. He didn't want to leave without Johnny and Roy, but he had no idea where they were.

Tom and Marco gently slid her to the door and onto the sled, covering her face up again to keep as much cold out as possible. Hank helped them move her down the slope as Chet stood inside the door of the plane while Mike waited.

"Let's go Chet."

"You see her Mike. Another night out here and she would have been dead. Where are they? Why aren't they here?" He was angry now.

"I don't know, but if we don't get to that chopper we'll be spending the night out here," Mike turned to leave.

Chet turned back to the inside of the plane. He didn't know why, but he couldn't bring himself to leave. He felt like he was abandoning his friends.

"CHET!" Hank hollered into the plane.

"Getting the papers Cap, thought they might tell us what happened."

"Hurry it up. As soon as she's loaded we're leaving."


With the sun now set they moved back into the cabin for the night. Johnny returned to his position at the radio, Mark got a fire going in the small stove then helped Jason move mattress' into the main room for the night.

He could see them from the office and resented how Jason coddled that pistol like a precious gift. It would be a miracle if they got any sleep tonight at all. And if that wasn't enough to worry about, the knot in his stomach was on the verge of making him sick. Somewhere deep down he knew he had failed Roy and the others, something bad had happened. He was safe and warm and tonight would most likely be the death of the others. That he was sure of now. This next storm was moving in now and he had no idea how bad the conditions would be by morning. Looking over at Jason and Mark, he wondered if storm or not, would any of them get out these mountains alive.


Chet knew he had to hurry. Cap wouldn't leave without him, but there'd be hell to pay if he didn't get back fast. Grabbing the handful of papers he walked to the large open end and looked out, watching them move the only survivor between the planes. Their going was slow and awkward. He could see Marco fall more than once and Hank helping him back up. The cold was getting to them pretty quickly and he couldn't imagine where his friends were or what they were going through. Hank looked up and waved his arm to him to hurry up. He turned and jogged down the short path until he tripped over something and fell flat on his face in the narrow aisle.

As he started to push on his hands to rise, he turned his head to the left, able to see under the seats and along the floor. He felt like his heart stopped beating. The hand visible from under the pile of clothes and blankets had a ring on that he knew.

"CAAPP!"