Chapter Five – The search continues
By: recon228

By two o'clock, the activity in and around the Possible residence had reached its crescendo. In the eight hours that had passed since the first police officer and chaplain had arrived on scene, the normally-quiet house had become host to a score of government officials representing every letter of the alphabet. There were representatives from the FAA (Federal Aviation Administration), the NTSB (National Transportation Safety Board), the CAP, the US Air Force, the NPS, and local law enforcement occupying every room in the lower level of the house. Meanwhile, almost every news media organization in the state was camped-out on the street in front of the home, waiting for a chance to interview the family members of what was quickly becoming the nation's top story.

The Stoppable Family was there, Margaret and John, as well as Rufus, who had missed out on the mission due to a routine check-up at the local veterinarian.

Josh and Tara, Kim and Ron's boyfriend and girlfriend, were in attendance as well.

Having heard the news during lunch, Josh had alerted the blonde cheerleader and both teens quickly rushed over to provide comfort and support for the families, as well as each other.

Being the levelheaded quiet type that he was, Josh sat silently on the arm of the couch next to the Stoppables, watching the search's progress on Headline News. At last report, SAR teams had located two unmarked crash sites within Death Valley; however neither of them had crashed recently.

One of the wrecks located within the park boundaries was a civilian single-engine Mooney Mk. I lost in 1997. The other wreck was an old Army Air Force B-25 bomber that was thought to have gone down in the Pacific during World War II.

So far Josh's girlfriend, Tara's boyfriend, and the Possible/Stoppable's eldest/only children were still missing.

Being the emotionally weakest person present, Tara had spent the entire time since receiving the news latched onto the closest arm she could find for comfort; all the while crying, sniffling, and telling anyone who would listen how Ron could handle himself and was going to be ok. On the ride over it had been Josh's arm she had clung to, upon arriving at the Possible Residence it was Andrea Possible who became the 'comfort blanket' for the blonde. Currently, the target of her emotional insecurity was an unfortunate young NTSB representative who, having seated himself next to the girl for a moment of rest, was now acting as grief counselor for the sniffling teen.

Though she and Ron had only been dating for about three months, it was by no means a new relationship. Tara had first developed feelings for the goofy blond during the Wannaweep incident two years earlier, but hadn't mustered up the courage to ask him out until recently. Since then, their relationship, as well as Kim and Josh's, had developed far beyond what anyone would have expected. That was mainly thanks to her and Josh's ability to trust and honor Team Possible's relationship.

While most boyfriends and girlfriends would have attempted to separate the two teens for fear of a romantic bond developing, Josh and Tara had not. They had, instead, allowed Kim and Ron to continue their work and personal relationship unhindered with the trust that they were good friends to one another, as well and loyal boyfriends and girlfriends to their respective partners.

Everyone who saw them together outside of missions thought Kim and Ron loved each other…

…and that was true.

But Josh and Tara understood that Team Possible's relationship transcended that of physical love and romance. Kim and Ron were best friends. They loved each other and either one of them would willingly give his or her life in order to protect the other from harm.

They were, however, not in love with each other. They had never harbored any sexual feelings about one another, even during the height of puberty. They saw each other more like close siblings; there was love and friendship between them, but not romance.

Josh and Tara were, of course, aware of that fact.

It was perhaps due to the tremendous volume of government officials coming and going that nobody seemed to notice the newest addition to the crowded room.

The man standing in the entryway to the living room was in his mid-to-late-twenties and was dressed in a typical dark business suit. He was approximately 5'11" and had a strong, yet not overly muscular build. With his neatly combed brown hair styled in a conservative manner, he could have easily been mistaken for an investment banker or used-car salesman at first glance.

As the man stood surveying the room, three other similarly dressed individuals appeared behind him. Finally, spotting the two individuals they were looking for, he and his associates casually approached the adult Possibles, who were seated with their two remaining children at the dining room table discussing the search progress with Dr. Director, the head of Global Justice.

Spotting the men walking her way, Dr. Director moved to intercept them. "Excuse me," she spoke up, trying to stop the brown-haired man. Before she could take any action, however, she was instantaneously stopped by hostile glares from his three associates.

Approaching the startled couple, the man stopped and looked down at them. "Are you Dr.'s James and Andrea Possible?" Both parents nodded and, in one well-practiced motion, he withdrew a leather billfold from his coat pocket and flipped it open to display a well polished badge mounted inside. "I'm Special Agent Kryker, FBI," he announced casually.

His introduction was returned in the form of two shocked and confused stares.

Noticing that he had managed to attract the attention of nearly everyone in the room, Agent Kryker decided to skip right to the point. "I'm sorry to have to do this to you right now," he said, reaching into his coat and withdrawing a folded piece of yellow-tinted triplicate paper, "but we have a federal warrant to search the room of your daughter, Kimberly Ann Possible, as well as any areas of this residence which she has legal access and standing over. We also have authorization from the United States Attorney's Office to remove any and all items that we deem necessary to further our investigation into this incident."

With the exception of the television, nothing and no one in the room made a sound. After a few seconds Andrea broke down and began to sob into her husband's shoulder while James stared up at the agent with a look of rage.

Without a shred of emotion, the agent held out his hand and presented the horrified parents with the copy of the warrant.

"What does this have to do with my daughter and her friend's plane going down?" James asked, dumbfounded, as he snatched the warrant from the man's hand.

Agent Kryker just shook his head. "I'm sorry, but I can't disclose that information right now." He then sidestepped and gestured toward the three men standing behind him. "What I need from one of you is to show Agent Marks, Agent Olmo, and Agent Johansson here where your daughter's room is so we can get this over with and allow everyone to concentrate on getting her back safe and sound."

James wanted to do something; yell, argue, threaten to contact a lawyer… but the 42-year-old rocket scientist knew that you really couldn't argue with a federal warrant. After a few more seconds of silence he stood slowly and headed toward the stairs that lead to Kim's room.

As he passed the waiting agents he growled, "This way gentleman," followed by a string of barely audible obscenities.

Turning his attention back to the shell-shocked occupants of the room, Agent Kryker took a moment to straighten his tie before withdrawing a second warrant from his pocket and examining the name printed on it.

In a voice eerily devoid of emotion, he asked, "Are the parents or legal guardians of Ronald Dean Stoppable here by any chance?"

The sudden outburst of sobbing to his right quickly zeroed him in on his target.

---

Now that the team was up and running again, Kim decided that they had to calmly and rationally inventory their current supplies. As their stress-relieving laughter died down, she walked over and sat on a large granite rock next to Ron and the survival kit.

"Okay, depression and despair aside, what do we have in here?" she asked, looking to her friend.

Ron let out a brief sigh and, for a moment, Kim was afraid that he had reverted back into hopelessness. But when he began to speak, she could clearly detect a hint of the usual 'Ron-ness' in his voice.

"Well, food aside, we do have some useful stuff," he noted as he reached into the kit and began removing items, identifying them as he placed them on the granite boulder between himself and Kim. "We've got a basic first-aid kit, a container of windproof matches, an empty canteen, some primitive fishing gear," he pulled out a coil of what looked like small, tightly wound barbed wire, "I think this is some kind of wire saw, and that's it… oh wait!" He reached behind the boulder and picked up the rifle stock he had discarded earlier. "We have this thing too, but I still don't get what purpose it serves."

"Beats me," Kim replied with a shrug.

Ron examined the stock for a few more seconds before he tossed it to the ground between them. With a hollow 'thud' the device hit the granite surface and the end-cap popped open, dumping a small-caliber rifle receiver, a barrel, an ammunition magazine, and a box of twenty-five .22-caliber bullets at the teens' feet.

"Uh…" Ron glanced from the disassembled rifle to Kim and blushed. "I knew those were in there."

"Sure you did," Kim retorted with a smirk.

With a nervous chuckle, Ron picked up the components and began working to reassemble the survival rifle into functioning order.

"What are you doing?" Kim asked with a frown.

"I'm trying to put this thing back together so we can actually use it," answered Ron. He looked up at Kim and gave her an innocent 'no duh' expression.

"Ron, just don't mess with it," Kim scolded. "The last thing we need is for you to accidentally fire it off and hit yourself… or me."

"I know what I'm doing, Kim," he replied defensively. "I have used a gun before y'know."

"What?" Kim's jaw dropped. That was news to her; she had never used, or even held a gun before, so she had no idea when Ron had used one. "You've fired a gun before?"

Ron continued working to assemble the rifle and nodded. "Yeah, with graduation approaching the 'rents have been on my case about what I want to do with 'the rest of my life', as they put it. Because I help you with the freak-fighting so often, my dad got the idea to have me spend a day with my cousin, Reuben, in order to see what his job is like."

Kim gave him a blank stare.

"He's a Sergeant with the Denver Police Department, remember?"

"Oh, right, isn't he the one who just got married?" Kim asked. She remembered meeting the man after the reception, but she had never learned his profession.

"Yup, two weeks before the wedding I did a ride-along with him during one of his shifts, then after work he took me to their shooting range and taught me some of the basics. I got to fire a pistol, a shotgun, and an M16!"

Having screwed the barrel in, Ron seated the receiver into the stock and held the assembled rifle up for Kim to see.

"So why didn't I know about this?" asked Kim. She was rather unsettled; not about the shooting, but about Ron not telling her. They had always told each other everything!

Ron popped open the box of .22 ammo and looked up at Kim with a sly grin. "This was right around the time you and Josh began going steady."

"Oh… right…" Kim replied with slight blush.

"Yeah…" Ron chuckled.

Kim's head had been so high in the clouds that week Ron could have told her he was moving to Norway and she wouldn't have noticed. It was an event he, Tara, and Monique had handled well, but nevertheless still teased her about.

"So," she pointed at the small rifle in his hands, "you promise you know how to handle that?"

Ron smiled and held up his right hand in a Boy Scout-type salute. "I promise."

"Alright," Kim replied. She really didn't have reason to doubt him, his klutzy tendencies had seemed to be waning as of recently.

Standing up, Kim took a moment to look around and survey their surroundings. They were currently resting on the upper slope of a large granite basin. Down the valley, about a quarter-mile away to the northeast, she could see a small lake and a stream that ran downhill and out of the valley. Detecting a presence behind her, she turned and found that Ron had left the gun lying on his rock and joined her in surveying their surroundings.

"I don't see any wildlife," he commented.

"We may have to get a bit lower in elevation before we find anything." She gestured toward the lower end of the basin. "I'm thinking if we still don't see any sign of rescuers by tomorrow morning, we start following that stream downhill until we find help."

Ron looked down toward the small lake at the bottom of the basin and nodded. "Sounds like as good a plan as any, but we may want to relocate camp down to the lake this afternoon. That way we'll have an adequate supply of water."

"Good idea, maybe we can use that fishing gear and some of the expired rations to try and catch some fish, if there are any." Kim knew it was a long shot, but worth a try at least.

Ron nodded, and then looked around nervously, suddenly becoming aware of a building pressure on his bladder. "Cool, let me just, uh… take care of some business, and then we can pack this stuff up and head down." he said before turning and heading toward the privacy of some large rocks.

"Don't forget to check wind-direction!" Kim yelled after him.

"That was one time and I was in a hurry!" Ron replied with a groan.

Kim just shook her head and laughed as her friend disappeared behind the cluster of rocks.

---

About a half-hour into his hike up the Copper Creek Trail, Danny came across one of the park's frequent-fliers, Michael Jacobson.

Mike, or 'Mountain Mike' as the locals knew him, was a long-time packer who spent the spring and summer months leading mule-trains into the backcountry to re-stock the numerous park-operated log cabins that dotted the isolated landscape. At first glance one would think the man was still living in the nineteenth century. With his worn overalls, plaid button-down shirt, and grizzled beard, he had the look of a man pulled straight out of the California Gold Rush of 1848.

"Danny!" Mike bellowed in a deep, yet warm voice. The older man pulled his mule to a stop and walked up to the younger ranger and extended his hand. "Are you on your way to Simpson Meadows?"

"I sure am, Mike," Danny replied, dropping his pack and shaking the man's leathered hand. "I'm gonna have food when I get there, right?"

"Son, have I ever let you down before? I just left there yesterday morning. Most of the food was still good, so all I did was add to it. That means you've got about double the usual amount of food when you get there."

Danny grinned and patted his stomach. "Excellent, double portions!"

"Now don't eat too much while you're there," Mike said with a laugh. "Wouldn't want to get fat and not be able to make the hike out."

"Well…" Danny pretended to think it over for a moment, "oh, alright, but only 'cause you say so. Anyway, I gotta get going if I'm going to make it through the pass today, but I'll see you later, Mike."

Danny hefted his pack back onto his shoulders and turned to leave. He stopped, however, when he remembered his conversation with the backpackers back at the trailhead. It was probably nothing, but just to be sure…

"Hey, Mike?" he called out, turning to face the packer, who was preparing his mule-train to resume its trek.

"Yeah?" the grizzled man replied.

"Where'd you stay last night?"

Mike pulled out a worn and weathered topographic map and studied it for a few moments. " Lake of the Fallen Moon, why?"

Lake of the Fallen Moon was just north of Granite Pass, on the way to Simpson Meadows.

"You didn't hear a plane making strange noises by any chance did you?"

The man's eyes widened slightly. "You know, I did actually… yeah, a little before seven thirty last night. It was high-pitched, like a fighter jet, and then it just stopped all of a sudden. I didn't hear a crash or anything though."

"Where did the noise stop?" Danny asked, suddenly worried that the couple's story had more merit to it than he had originally thought.

"I'm not sure exactly." Mike thought it over for a moment. "It was definitely south of Fallen Moon… uh, maybe around Dusy Basin? That'd be my best guess."

Danny nodded and glanced at his watch. "Do me a favor, Mike, when you get back to Cedar Grove Village tell em–"

The park ranger was cut off mid-sentence as a massive red object buzzed the treetops overhead. Its twin turbine engines and rotor blades literally shook the pine needles from the surrounding trees as Danny dove to the ground, while Mike tugged furiously on the reigns of his mule, which was braying and kicking out of fear.

As soon as it had appeared, the helicopter was gone; leaving both men and the mule-train in stunned silence.

"Damn it, Herb!" Danny growled as he stood up and dusted himself off. "You crazy bastard!"

"You know that gung-ho flyboy?" Mike asked, rubbing his mule's head reassuringly.

"Yeah, that was Herbert Whittier," Danny replied as he brushed the dust off of his dark green uniform pants and readjusted his leather gun-belt.

Herbert Whittier was a local helicopter pilot who made a living giving aerial tours of the park to tourists who were too lazy to hike the trails themselves. Herbert, or Herb as he preferred to be called, was also known for his often-reckless piloting skills and somewhat shady business practices.

"Herb…" Mike glanced off in the direction the chopper had disappeared and rubbed his beard. "Isn't he the one you guys think shuttles growers out into the backcountry?"

"Yeah, that's him." The ranger nodded.

Though it had never been proven, it was believed by most of the park employees that Herb was the main source of transportation for poachers and drug harvesters into- and out-of the park. On several occasions Danny had heard eyewitness accounts from backpackers of Whittier's red Aerospatiale landing within the park boundaries. This was, of course, in violation of numerous FAA and NPS regulations. So far, however, they had been unable to catch him in the act.

"You think he's giving a tour… or acting as an air-taxi?" asked Mike.

Danny let out a long sigh and shook his head. "As long as I don't have to deal with it, I don't really care."

---

"Hey Kim, come here, quick!" Ron called out from behind the rocks.

"Why, what's wrong?" Kim shouted back. Given the fact that he had been using the bathroom last she heard, she was a bit reluctant to go rushing to her friend's side.

"Just come here!" the blond yelled back. "I found something interesting…"

To be continued...