"I'm frightened by what I see but somehow I know there's much more to come. Immobilized by my fear and soon to be blinded by tears.

-Evanescence, Whisper

Chapter Eleven

Failed Attempts to Fly

In the moments that he had been out of the apartment, Sam realized that the living room had been an oven compared to the air temperature in the hallway. If he had doubted the severity of the storm before and the changing climate outside before, he certainly didn't doubt it now. And he also didn't doubt the seriousness of their situation. It was then that Sam realized, perhaps for the first time, that if they didn't succeed in contacting someone and sending for help, they were going to die. And looking over at Laura, who was shivering as she searched around for a way to get out of the apartment and into the snowy city beyond, Sam vowed that he was not going to let anything happen to her. He would die first before he willing let harm come to her.

The sound of shattering glass pulled Sam instantly out of his thoughts and caused his attention to focus down the hallway, where the noise had come from. He saw Laura standing by a window that had been previously hidden behind frost, with her face turned away to keep it from getting struck by any of the frozen glass shards that had broken out when she had shattered the window with her elbow. Sam hurried over to her, impressed and pleased with her actions; he knew he would have spent unnecessary time searching around for a door or an exit of some kind. It was already becoming clear that the least amount of time they spent in the cold, the better.

Sam was just further reminded of this revelation when Laura sneezed again, looking at him with a sheepish look in her eyes. She knew now, without a doubt, that she was getting sick and that it wasn't going to help their situation any; it was the same feeling she had gotten when she had been six years old and had come down with the flu. She could feel the sickness creeping into her body but dreaded telling her mother because then Michelle had been working three jobs just to pay for someone to keep Tessa during the day. And Laura felt that way now, dreading to tell Sam because it seemed as though saying it would make it so much more real, as though she wouldn't become sick until she admitted to it.

But Sam couldn't be fooled, it appeared; Laura could tell this by the look he was giving her, his eyes filled with concern. "Laura," he said, drawing her close to him, "go back to the apartment. I'll be fine."

Laura shook her head but didn't pull away from Sam; though she knew it was only her imagination, she felt warmer when she was close to him and she didn't want that feeling to go away. "You're not going to get rid of me that easy." She mumbled.

Sam rolled his eyes, even though he knew that she couldn't see him; if only she knew how ironic her words were, how wrong she was. He would never want to get rid of her, not after he had spent so long trying to get her in the first place and that further fueled his desire to get her back to the apartment where she was at least out of the icy weather that was slowly making her cold worse. "It's not safe out here, Laura." He told her, both of them knowing the truth in his words. Who knew what lay just outside the apartment, what new kinds of horrors had been drawn out as a result of the sudden change in climate. Anything could be beyond the building and Sam would rather take the chance of risking it alone then risking Laura. "I don't want anything to happen to you-"

"And I don't want anything to happen to you." Laura lifted her head and stared into his deep blue eyes. "Sam, you're no safer out there then I would be." She watched him closely. "I love you, Sam, and I'm not going to let you go alone."

Sam could find nothing to say; it was so nice, so simple, to hear Laura tell him that she loved him, to hear her say the words he had dreamed of hearing from her. And it was because of that and the love he saw shining in her round brown eyes that he couldn't come up with an argument, that he couldn't tell her to stay behind.

Laura took his silence as an agreement to her words and looked back toward the broken window. "Let's go," she prodded, "I didn't break this window to let in the view."

And what a view it was. The very tops of the tallest buildings in New York City were barely visible over the drifts of snow that had collected on top of the iced over water that had flooded New York City. The piles of snow, themselves, were several feet high and there were still more flakes drifting down from the sky.

Adding to the strange scene laid out before the teenagers was the fact that hundred upon hundreds of people were walking through the snow, fleeing from the city before things got worse. Though Laura couldn't have guessed where they were going or even how they thought that they stood a chance against the prolonged exposure to the weather, she still admired them for their courage. Just because she and Sam were smart enough to think of an alternative way to get rescued, didn't mean that they were brave enough to step out of the known safety of the apartment for a long period of time and really take destiny into their own hands. Still, Laura wasn't going to be the first one to suggest leaving the city by foot; in fact, she was pretty content with reaching someone past the land of ice and snow and sending for a rescue mission.

Sam looked over at her, studying her closely before staring back at the mass exodus. "Do you think they'll make it?" He didn't know why he was asking, why he needed to know.
Laura sighed and shrugged, unsure of how to answer. "I hope so." She mumbled. Because if those people could make it, then so could they.

It didn't take Coleman long to realize that being out of the apartment, attempting to make an escape, was even worse then being stuck inside. The cold was unlike anything he had ever experienced and the biting wind did nothing to alleviate the chill that soon enclosed his entire body. Even in his feverish state, the temperature was unbearable and he found that the tiny beads of sweat that had collected on his forehead had quickly turned to ice.

Coleman saw the hundreds of other people, people smarter then he, dragging along their belongings on makeshift sleds, bundled up to the best of their ability, walking with their heads bowed against the sharp wind. He watched them and envied them because they were sane and capable of making it out of the city, while he was barely capable of putting one foot in front of the other.

Coleman quickly realized that he didn't have the strength, didn't have the energy, didn't have the capacity to carry himself through the thick snow. He reached a ship –a ship! In the middle of New York City- that had been breached against several skyscrapers before his famished, shaking body could no longer carry him. His knees buckled and he collapsed, the packed snow biting into his exposed skin.

With a frustrated sigh, he attempted to lift himself again but could only succeed in pulling himself into a sitting position. Panting and exhausted, Coleman leaned against the icy side of the barge, his head spinning, eyes cloudy. Was he really even sitting next to a ship? It seemed so impossible that a ship could have reached New York City and he wouldn't have been at all surprised to learn that he was just seeing things, that the people and the ship were all figments of his imagination, created by his hunger.

Was the world really crumbling down around him? Or was it all in his imagination.

"Sam," Laura said through chattering teeth, catching his attention, "where are we supposed to find something to call for help?" The wind whipped her curls in front of her face, forcing her to retrieve her hands from the moderately warm pockets of the coat she was wearing and tuck the stray locks behind her ears. "There's nothing but snow."

With growing desperation, Sam realized that the brunette was right; there was little left of New York aside from ice, snow and the top layers of icy buildings. There was no where to seek help, no where to seek shelter aside from the apartment they had left and Sam was beginning to wonder if there was anything they could do.

The cold was growing worse, if that was at all possible, or perhaps it was because the snow was up to Sam's knees and soaking through the fabric of his jeans and seeping into his tennis shoes. If they didn't find something soon, then they would be forced to retreat back to the apartment or freeze to death.

Refusing to give up so soon, Sam let his eyes scan the desolate, frozen wasteland before him, trying to pick up on something either one of them might have missed before. Beside him, Laura was searching as well, pressed close against him, attempting to fight off some of the cold.

With a sense of relief, Sam's eyes finally settled on the Russian barge that had captured their attention days before, which had been beached among several buildings, trapped in the ice. "There." He said, drawing Laura's attention to the icy ship. "There's got to be a radio on that ship."

Laura followed his gaze and studied the ship; the side of the barge was slick with ice and there was snow piling up on the deck. If there was anything useful on the ship, she prayed it hadn't been damaged in the cold. The acid in batteries was libel to freeze in such extreme temperatures and the cold could have frozen any of the still working parts inside.

But, she had to admit, if there was something left in New York City that was going to save them, it was going to be on that ship. Laura looked over at Sam, who was searching the side of the ship with his eyes, attempting to find an entrance, and felt the growing sense of approaching disaster fill her once more. She knew it was stupid and groundless but every inch of her body was telling her to turn back, to go back to the apartment and find another way to escape the city. But Laura knew there was no other way to escape; this was their last and only chance and it was stupid to abandon their search just because she had an icy feeling in the pit of her stomach. Yet, that didn't change the feeling, didn't make it go away; more then anything, the growing pit in her stomach reminded Laura of the way she had felt on her way home from school the day her father had left. The feeling that she was about to loose something close to her, that her world was about to collapse.

"What's the matter?" Sam questioned, pulling Laura away from her thoughts and causing her to focus on his concerned face. "Are you all right?"

Laura nodded. "Fine." She said, though she wasn't quite sure if she was. Try as she might, she couldn't force the pit in her stomach to diminish. She was being stupid, and being stupid was wasting time. "Let's just get this over with." She started toward the barge but Sam grabbed her arm and caused her to turn back in his direction.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" He questioned. "You can go back to the apartment and-"

Laura silenced him by putting her lips against his, a technique that she found worked rather well. "Listen to me," she said once the kiss was broken, "I am not going to let you go alone, so quit trying to be the hero. Understand?"

Sam smiled. "Yes ma'am." He moved to kiss her again but, reluctantly, Laura pulled out of his reach.

"I mean it, Sam." She said. "I'm not going to let anything happen to you." It was that feeling, that sense of looming disaster that was forcing her to speak. She knew she was being foolish, but she couldn't stand the thought of anything happening to Sam, couldn't stand the thought of losing him. It was that old saying, coming into play again: better safe then sorry.

Sam nodded, entirely serious now, and brushed Laura's curls away from her face. "Nothing is going to happen to me, baby, I promise." He kissed her again, briefly. He regretting allowing her to put herself in danger like this but he knew that Laura wasn't going to willingly return to the apartment and he loved her even more for that. He didn't think he could do this alone and whether he could or not didn't really matter. Sam didn't want to do it alone; he wanted Laura with him.
Laura tried to smile but knew that the gesture came out forced; if Sam noticed, he didn't let on. Regardless of what misgivings either one of them might have, they started toward the barge, silently steeling themselves against whatever they might find there.

Lucy was still stunned at how quickly her life was falling down around her. Losing Sam was one thing, perhaps the most important thing, but it was still something a strong woman could move past in the following years. But losing all her memories of her child, losing the home she had raised him in, losing every aspect of her life was something that Lucy couldn't even begin to fathom and she felt the armor she had built around herself in the past few days begin to crumble.

As Jack spoke, explaining to his ex-wife that the President had ordered an evacuation, he could tell that Lucy was falling apart. Whether she would show it or not, she was dying inside and he was the one killing her. "If we don't get as far South as possible," Jack forced himself to continue, "then we're just going to be caught in the storm."

Lucy was silent for a moment, looking at her husband with a flat expression on her face. "We have to leave." She said, restating what he had just told her. "I have to leave my home? Sam's home?"

Jack visibly winced at the sound of his son's name, still aching at the thought of leaving his son to die. If there was a way to rescue Sam, then he was certain he would have done it; but going up to New York would have been a suicide mission and he would have died as well as his son. And Jack knew right then that he couldn't leave Lucy; Lucy was the only family he had left and she needed him now, whether she would admit it or not. They needed each other, because they would never make it through alone.

"Yes." Jack answered, for there was no other answer for him to give her. "And we've got to go immediately, before the storm has a chance to grow worse and there's no chance of leaving."

Lucy was still studying him with that flat expression, the expression of a dead woman. "Immediately." She mumbled, as though trying to figure out the meaning of the word.

"The sooner the better. They'll have clothes and toiletries at the American Embassy." Jack explained.

"I can't even go to my house and get my own clothes? Clothes for Sam?" Jack could tell that Lucy was still holding onto whatever hope she could that Sam would be coming back to them. "I can't take anything; no pictures, no blankets...nothing?" Lucy looked so broken, so lifeless that Jack wanted to do whatever he could to bring back the woman he had fallen in love with.

Jack shrugged, helpless. "I'm sorry, Lucy, I truly am but there's no time to waste packing." He told her. "We've got to leave as soon as possible."

Lucy sighed and leaned against Jack's desk, as though she could no longer support herself. She knew it was no good to argue with Jack because he was right; if they got trapped in the storm, then they would die and that was unacceptable. If her son really was dead, if her Sam was never going to come back to her, then she had to live for him, had to live so that everyone knew of her son. But if Sam did survive, did make it down to Mexico, then he had to have a mother waiting there for him.

Oh my Sam, Lucy thought with an inward cry, please come back. But what would he be coming back to? Not the house he had grown up in, not the city he had made his home in; Sam would be coming to a strange country, trying to make sense of the end of the world. But there was still something for him to return to.

Come back to me.

Laura didn't think she had ever seen something as eerie as the deserted Russian ghost ship. The decks were entirely white, covered with snow and ice, and the barge seemed to be enclosed in a silence that could not be broken by the rest of the sounds that had filled New York. She could no longer year the hushed voices of those fleeing the city but she tried to tell herself it was just because they had gotten too far for even the wind to carry the noise; it was not because she had stepped into some sort of different reality, where there was no sound and no warmth. Laura shuddered and tried to push the thoughts from her mind; the solitude was really getting to her.

Sam was kicking aside the piles of snow, attempting to dig through the whiteness and find access into the barge itself. Shivering, Laura decided to take her mind off the quiet by helping him, brushing her gloved hands against the deck, an action that only caused her to shiver even more. The snow was seeping into her gloves, freezing her hands and turning them into icicles. The first thing she was going to do when they got help, assuming they managed to get rescued, was take the hottest shower of her entire life.

"Here." Sam's voice caused Laura to look up, squinting against the driving wind in his direction. He had found a trap-door of sorts, which would lead down into the bowels of the ship. She could vaguely see the beginnings of a metal ladder that would take them down into the barge and to whatever was waiting there below.

For a moment, Laura remained where she was, trying to figure out why her mind had convinced her that there was some sort of boogeyman waiting in the shadows. If there was anything in the ship, it was a way out of the frozen city, a way to get help. There was nothing down there waiting to swallow them up; Laura had learned throughout the course of her life that the real boogeyman didn't waste time hiding the shadows.

Pursing her chapped lips, Laura hurried over to where Sam was waiting for her; sticking close to him would put her mind at ease because, somehow, he always made her feel safe. "I'll go first." Sam said and started down the icy metal stairs, disappearing into the darkness.

When Laura could no longer see him, she followed after him without allowing her eyes time to adjust to the blackness. Her tennis shoe slipped on one of the icy railings and she cried out, grabbing onto the railings above her before she had the chance to lose her balance and fall.

From below, Sam looked up, suddenly panicked. "Laura?" He shouted, his voice echoing throughout the empty ship. "Baby, what's the matter?"

"Nothing." Laura said once her heart had stopped pounding. It seemed like those near death experiences that always got you more jittery then anything else. "I'm fine." Taking a deep breath, she forced herself to slowly continue climbing down the ladder, not allowing herself to look down. She didn't think she had ever been more relieved to touch solid ground beneath her feet.

Not that what was beneath her feet could be considered solid ground. Laura and Sam were on a metal catwalk that didn't appear to be at all solid; if Laura had glanced down, she could have seen the rest of the ship below through the slats in the metal. Pipes ran crisscrossed above, twisting together in the shadows, silent and icy.

As his eyes adjusted better to the dimness, Sam could see more of the barge before him; the rickety metal catwalk continued throughout the whole of the ship, leading toward more metal flights of stairs and doors, which hopefully led to solid hallways. It was in those hallways and the rooms beyond them that they would find the radio that they were looking for, yet Sam couldn't bring himself to start forward. He had never been a fan of heights and it was even worse standing on a narrow, metal 'floor' that you could see through.

Laura took his hand and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. Sam looked at her and smiled, grateful once again that she had actually come with him. Taking a deep breath, Sam mumbled, "Let's get this over with," and started forward. The catwalk beneath them groaned with every step and Laura held Sam's hand tighter as she followed after him, trying not to look down.

Not looking down, however, was difficult to do when the ground was groaning beneath you. It wasn't as though becoming a sailor had ever been an option in Laura's future, but she was definitely ruling it out now.

Without warning, one of the pieces of metal beneath Laura's feet gave way and went tumbling down below. Laura shouted Sam's name as she fell, reflexively tightening her grip on his hand to stop herself from falling; her free hand clawed at the metal catwalk that hadn't fallen, but she found it difficult to find purchase because of her wet gloves.

Sam was so caught off guard by the sudden change in Laura's position and the fact that he was now the only thing supporting her weight that he stumbled backward as well, hitting the metal beneath him hard enough to rattle his teeth. But he didn't give himself the chance to think about the sudden jolt as he held tightly to Laura's wrist in an attempt to keep her from slipping, trying to keep himself from panicking. The look in Laura's eyes, the panic he saw did little to ease his mind; she was silently pleading with him not to let her fall.

Sam's other hand found Laura's and he managed to pull the brunette up with ease, relief flowing through his body. Laura threw her arms around his shoulders and pulled herself against him, holding onto him tightly. Her heart was pounding in her chest and Sam knew her mind was going over all the things that might have happened to her if she had fallen. He knew that was what he was thinking; the fall itself was no more then fifteen feet but the impact would have been enough to seriously injure her, giving Laura any number of injuries that she might not have been able to easily recover from given their current situation. And there was no telling if the floor beneath her would have held under the impact. It was better not to think about what might have happened, since nothing had happened. Laura was safe and that was the most important thing; thinking past that would do no good.

Laura took a deep breath, attempting to calm her racing heart and lifted her head off Sam's chest. "And to think I was worried about you." She mumbled with a wry smile. She didn't feel much like cracking a smile but she figured it was the better alternative, better then imagining herself after having taken the fall.

Sam kissed her on the forehead and allowed his breathing to return to normal as well. That was too close a call for him and he figured the least amount of time they spent aboard the barge, the better. He slowly got to his feet, helping Laura up as well and keeping her close to him, keeping his arm around her waist. "Are you sure you're all right?" Sam questioned, concerned.

Laura allowed herself to glance down, studying the bent piece of metal several feet below that had fallen from beneath her feet. "Considering." She mumbled. "I'm fine." She looked up again and tried to force all other thoughts from her mind. "Let's just find that damn radio."

Their walk on the rest of the metal catwalk proved to be, thankfully, uneventful and they reached the first solid hallway with ease. The first hallway yielded a handful of doors, each of which were closed and undoubtedly locked. Laura wondered what had happened to the sailors that had been on board the ship when the tidal wave had struck and decided it was best not to think about that either. The barge appeared to be deserted and it would do no good to think about why that was so.

Sam tried one of the doors and found that it was indeed locked; he kicked at the door but it didn't buckle beneath his assault. Laura tried another door and the knob turned beneath her hand and the door swung open. She peeked inside, squinting her eyes against the dimness and ran her fingers along the side of the wall, hunting for the light switch. She flicked the switch and the light clicked on; however, the bulb popped upon lighting, the glass shattering onto the floor. Laura jumped back reflexively in surprise, but remained in the doorway, attempting to peer into the room before her.

The room was filled with bunk beds, all empty with tangled sheets; the sailors staying in the beds had clearly left in a hurry, probably in order to keep their barge under control against something they never could have bested. Shivering, Laura entered the room and went through the drawers of the single dresser, much like she had done with the drawers in J.D.'s apartment. But it was easier now because she didn't know the sailors who no longer required the clothes from the dresser and she didn't allow herself the chance to dwell upon the lives they might have had. She was learning something now, something she thought she would never have to learn: she was learning about survival and how you had to survive even when others hadn't.

Laura uncovered a penlight from amidst the tangled undergarments and flicked it on to make sure that it still worked. A tiny beam of light illuminated the room; it wasn't much, but it was better then total darkness.

Eagerly, Laura left the room and headed back into the hallway where Sam was checking the other doors. He turned to her. "Find anything?" He questioned hopefully.

"Just this." Laura gave him the penlight, which Sam took gratefully. He shined the light down the hallway, which illuminated several other door handles. Taking Laura's hand again, as though unwilling to let her get too far from him, Sam started down the opposite end of the hallway, stopping to try door handles.

One door finally opened, giving them access to the room they had been hoping to find all along. The window to the control room was cracked and covered with frost but still let in a little light, making the penlight unnecessary. Knobs, switches, buttons and glass screens lined the panels before them, as well as the walls on either side. Most of the radar and control screens had been shattered by the glass but Sam didn't think too much of it; they didn't need the radar anyway. "Look for a radio," Sam instructed the brunette beside him, "anything we can use to call for help."

Laura methodically searched the walls, pressing several buttons in an attempt to rouse any of the equipment but nothing responded. She finally reached a small radio, much like those she had seen in police cruisers and switched it on. A smile spread across her face when the lights snapped on, brightening the room considerably and a low whine emitted from the speaker.

At the sound, Sam turned, a grin stretching across his face as well. "Leave it on the frequency." He suggested as he headed in her direction. Laura didn't touch any of the buttons but retrieved the handset hanging off the cord and raised it to her lips.

"Is there anyone out there?" Laura said into the speaker. "Hello?" Her words were met with nothing but whines and static. She tried again but got the same response; shrugging helplessly, she looked over at Sam. "What should we do?"

Sam studied the radio for a moment before looking back the brunette. "It looks like it can be moved; maybe if we take it back to the apartment, Brian will have better luck then we did." He suggested and attempted to pull the radio off the metal shelf it rested on.

The radio slid away easily, having never been secured down despite the rough seas the barge surely would have encountered. The radio nearly slipped out of Sam's grip but Laura caught it before it could hit the ground and held it tightly, keeping it from falling again. "We've got the radio." She mumbled through chattering teeth. "Now let's get the hell out of here."

Sam didn't have a problem with that.

Though it seemed impossible, Sam thought that might have gotten even colder since the last time he had been in the open air. The wind was stronger then it had been, that was for certain, and it drove the biting cold and falling flakes of snow into his face. He looked over at Laura and saw that she had bent her head against the driving wind, flakes tangled and freezing in her curls. Sam wished that the snowfall was nothing but a seasonal thing and that he was back home, enjoying the frosty weather with the girl of his dreams, strolling lazily down street-lamp lit streets as evening fell instead of fighting the growing cold to ensure their survival.

Laura clutched the radio close to her chest, squinting her eyes against the snowflakes that had frozen on her lashes. The worst part about being in the storm, she knew, was that upon reaching the apartment once again she wasn't going to get any warmer. Even if Brian had managed to build the fire up, the flames could not hope to melt away some of the chill that had enveloped her body. Regardless of this knowledge, Laura looked forward to getting back to the apartment and curling up in front of the fire; it was only a matter of time now, she hoped, until they got help. They only had to wait a while longer.

Together, Sam and Laura headed toward the side of the barge with the icy, metal ladder which had allowed them access to the deck of the ship. Laura turned toward the ladder and prepared to descend first but Sam paused and looked back at the ship. "Maybe we should try and find some food." He mumbled thoughtfully. "Anything that we could use in the apartment."

Knowing that Sam had a point, Laura turned to follow him back into the barge but the damp soles of her tennis shoes slipped on the icy deck and she fell backward, off the side of the ship. She landed in the piled snow beneath her, the fall doing nothing more then driving the air out of her lungs. Laura just couldn't believe her luck; she didn't think she had ever fallen that much before in her life.

Laura took a deep breath and shook her head, trying to shake loose the ice and snow that had clung to her hair and skin. Luckily, the radio was unharmed, still resting against her stomach, unfazed by the fall.

Sam peered over the side of the railing, a comical look of concern on his face. When he saw that Laura had also been unharmed, his look of concern turned into a smile and he rolled his eyes. "Good Lord, woman." He said. "Have you always had this much trouble standing on your own two feet?"

Laura rolled her eyes. "Shut up, Sam." She mumbled, pushing herself up onto her elbows. That was when her eyes settled on the nearly still form of a man leaning against the side of the barge; he was so motionless, so still that, at first, she thought that he was dead.

But when she locked eyes with this man, Laura could tell that he wasn't dead; there was something in his eyes that frightened her, a complete insanity unlike anything she had ever seen before. What scared her even more was what she saw resting in his lap, something that seemed just as out of place as the tidal wave that had swallowed New York City. Resting in the lap of the man who hadn't looked away from her since her tumble off the barge was the pistol that seemed to have an almost unnatural glint to it.

Sam seemed to notice a change in her demeanor because the smile disappeared off his face and he followed her gaze in an attempt to see what had captured her attention. It seemed that his gaze settled first on the gun that the man was holding and he instantly reacted, jumping off the side of the barge and letting his knees and the piles of snow soak up most of the impact.

It seemed as though Sam's actions broke the spell that had frozen Laura and the man that the teenagers would never know as Coleman in place. Laura stumbled to her feet, holding the radio close against her like a shield and Coleman stood as well, looking even more confused and frightened then Laura felt. He clutched the gun in his shaking hands, jabbing it at the brunette as though she was something more a teenage girl; in his feverish and confused mind, perhaps she was.

Sam was at Laura's side instantly, stepping in front of her in an attempt to better protect her if the feverish gunman decided to fire. He had never been faced with a situation such as this, had never seen death as close as he was now seeing the muzzle of the pistol only yards away from him and the experience was a little unnerving. Yet, his life was not flashing before his eyes, he was not remembering moments of his childhood that he had sought to repress, was not imagining the life he could have led. He found himself thinking of nothing but what was happening at that moment and how to get out of it. Sam figured it was that feeling if immortality that most teenagers seemed to have, the feeling that death was not close enough to be something to worry about. The feeling that they were much too young to die.

For a moment, time seemed to freeze and all Laura could think about was the shaking muzzle of the gun pointed in her direction. But her mind had yet to register, it seemed, that the gun was no longer pointed at her but at Sam, who was standing in front of her. And her life wasn't flashing before her eyes either; all she could think about was never being able to see Sam again, to be with him and to kiss him, to know if he was happy later on in life.

"Listen man," Sam began, his voice shaky, holding up his hand to further entreat the man to think about what he was doing. At his motion and his voice, the man seemed to tense up even more, his finger curling around the trigger of the shaking pistol. "We don't want any trouble. Just don't shoot."

Laura watched the man, who didn't seem to even hear what Sam had said and tried to think about how the man had ended up like he had. What had happened to him to make him crazy enough to point a gun at a couple of teenagers and seriously think about pulling the trigger. What was going through his mind at that moment?

Sam cleared his throat. "Just let us past." He attempted, giving Laura a gentle nudge, a silent signal to start backing up.

The man studied Sam for a moment before lowering the gun a fraction, looking as though he was attempting to make sense of what was going on. Laura figured that they would have gotten away without any further conflict if it hadn't been for the radio in her hands. The very radio that they had hung their existence upon choose that exact moment to spring to life, someone having stumbled upon the radio frequency and attempting to make contact.

With a loud whine, a voice cut through the radio static. "Hello, is there someone out there...?" The grabbled voice questioned through the mass of static that escaped from the speakers.

Laura jumped in surprise, dropping the radio at the exact same time that the startled man holding the shaking gun pulled the trigger.