"What do you mean he's gone?!" Hannah shrieked as Kyle finished relaying the story to them.

"I told you. I saw him take the keys out of that drawer and drive off in the car," said Kyle.

"Why didn't you stop him?!" Hannah shouted, fists shaking in rage.

"I was sleepwalking, Miss Anderson! I'm not really in a position to think about things like that."

"Wait, whose car are we talking about?" John asked. Unlike the others, he hadn't been back to Burke's house since the incident with Clay and the robotic imposter.

"Charlie's car," said Clay. "When we took care of her Aunt Jen's body, I noticed her car was parked down near the road. So I brought it back to keep it safe...just in case she…"

He trailed off, but his message was clear. In case she was found.

"That's where Charlie's car went? It's been here the whole time?" Jessica asked, and Clay nodded.

"Yep, and apparently Sam's making an attempt of his own to find his sister."

"So what do we do?" Carlton asked.

"I'm not leaving without my son," said Hannah. "He's literally the only family I have left now."

Everyone nodded in agreement.

"We have to find him," said John. "But how? He could be anywhere."

Clay pondered for a moment, then turned to Kyle.

"I think we may need your piloting skills after all."

Pain. That was the one thing that he felt as his eyelids fluttered open. The light blinded him for a few moments, but his movement was very limited. His left arm was in severe pain and any attempt he made to move it protested his decision instantly. His other arm and legs seemed to feel okay, though his overall stamina was in slumber and his head felt like a swollen balloon on his shoulders. When his eyes finally adjusted to the light, he opened them fully.

Aside from a thick strand of light pouring through a crack of foliage, all he could make out through the spider-webbed windshield were branches and leaves.

Where am I? What happened?

As his vision began to come further into focus, he saw the steering wheel in front of his body, part of the side torn off. He glanced around at the interior of the car he was in, taking in the smell, and then he remembered: he was in the car he'd borrowed from Clay's house and had spun out after trying to avoid a tree.

He began examining himself. His left arm was trapped between the side of the seat and the car door that had been pushed inward by the impact. That was why it was in so much pain. With as much strength as he could muster, he pushed the door outward with his good arm, struggling against the weight opposing him, until he eventually was able to squeeze his trapped arm out from its snare, cutting himself in the process and extending the bloody wounds he'd already sustained. After maneuvering his legs out from beneath the steering wheel, he managed to crawl over the console and into the damp air through the intact passenger door. Getting to his feet, he looked back at the damage.

The car was absolutely wrecked. It wasn't quite as bad as some of the accidents he'd seen back home, but it was still useless nevertheless. He had spun into a tree. Most of the damage was in the front, crumpling the side of the hood and engine, though part of the damage extended back to the driver-side door, pushing it inward. All of the windows on that side of the car were broken, the tires were either bent or off their axles entirely, and the trunk's hood also took enough damage to render it useless as well.

Sam sighed. His only form of transportation was dead, and his body wasn't really in any desired shape to walk great distances, nor was his mind for that matter. Perhaps there was something in the car that could be of use. He checked the glove compartment. Nothing but a few papers in there which looked absolutely useless to him. And then he began checking the car floor through the wreckage of random metal parts lying about.

Seriously, what is all this? Who would have this metal stuff just lying around in their car? Was this person working on some kind of machinery?

However, upon further inspection, he also noticed a sliver of blue underneath the passenger seat. He reached over an pulled out a notebook.

It was a school notebook. Curiously, he opened it. The first page contained a handful of notes. On the top was written the heading "Intro to Robotics." Below that, technical terms and notes: the laws of robotics, robota, the basics of artificial intelligence.

Sam flipped the page. Now there were diagrams that had been drawn, some taking up half of the page, with charts and graphs giving information that he wasn't familiar with. While he'd always admired Henry's handiwork as a young child, he never was into robotics. It was interesting that he happened to find a notebook on the floor of the car he borrowed and unintentionally destroyed.

Wait, didn't Jessica mention something about Charlie taking a robotics course at St. George's?

He flipped back to the first page, and sure enough, in the top left corner of the inside cover written in black marker was the name: Charlie.

And then it hit him.

This is Charlie's car.

A sudden wave of guilt struck him. What had he done to his sister's car? It was an absolute wreck with no signs of life whatsoever. He couldn't help but imagine her face when he told her that he had destroyed her vehicle, if he found her, that is. Would she care? Would her joy at seeing him again overshadow any other emotions she may have? He hoped so, but then again he couldn't know for sure. Once again, their lack of a relationship growing up apart all these years left those questions in the air.

Knowing the car and notebook's true ownership, he skimmed through the rest of the notebook, interested in seeing what was on his sister's mind as of late. It started off relatively normally, but as he flipped further into the brief amount of used pages, he began to see more space taken up by boxes. Square and rectangles had been sketched everywhere onto the pages, both on the lines and even in the margins. On the final few pages, he even saw doodles of animals. He couldn't quite make them out, but one of them looked very much like a wolf, a twisted wolf with distorted features.

Sam frowned. What is this all about? What happened, Charlie?

He thought back to the stories and remembered them mentioning something about twisted animatronics, creatures created by Afton that used whatever that illusion device was to appear normal when they wanted. He shuddered. Was this them in Charlie's drawings? If so, he hoped they were gone and he wouldn't run into them.

But that was assuming he ever had a reason to find them. He had no idea where exactly he was. He assumed it was somewhere on the way to his sister's house, but he couldn't be sure. One thing was for sure: Charlie's car wasn't going anywhere. His only hope was to flag someone down traveling down the road. Surely everyone else knew he was gone and were actively searching for him now. Part of him felt relieved, sure they would find him eventually, but another part of him still yearned to go on. After all, he'd already come this far. Might as well commit.

He moved over to the road, his arm still screaming in pain every time he unconsciously swung it with a step. He saw the tread marks on the road where he had spun out, turning a full 180 degrees from the direction he was going before slamming into the tree. The tree branch was there, its leaves wet and green, though not for long. In the light, it was even bigger than what it looked like at the moment it fell in front of him, and even then it looked huge. Sam sighed. It appeared that no one would be getting through here. He walked over and sat down on the branch, pondering his next move.

He thought back to last night when he listened to his mother talk about what had happened right after Charlie's death. So Henry had decided to try and recreate his sister? To make it seem as though she was still here? Sam sighed. He couldn't fault that desire. He, too, would have wished desperately that his sister was still alive, had he known at the time what had happened. But then Henry began losing himself to his work. Sam had no recollection of any of this, thankfully, but it sounded like he and his mother became so unimportant to Henry that he would rather have back his dead daughter than go so much as given his son and wife the time of day. Sam loved Charlie, but what made being Daddy's girl so special?

Maybe his mother was right to keep him from the truth for as long as she did. Maybe it really was for the best. With each passing minute, his regret grew. They say ignorance is bliss, and right now he wished that he could've stayed home and never known. At least he wouldn't have to go through this emotional distress. He and Kyle could be playing a gig somewhere or having fun following one of Kyle's stupid ideas. But no, he was here instead, trapped in the twisted world that was his past, with nothing to take away the pain he felt knowing that he'd been carelessly thrown away by the man he had called father. He felt rage approaching again as his fists clenched.

No, he told himself. Calm down. Don't do this now. Focus. You came out here for a reason.

With everything that had just happened, from wrecking the car to having another internal argument, he'd almost forgotten that he'd come out here to find Charlie. He didn't know where he would even begin now. He had no transportation anymore. It would probably only be a matter of time before someone came looking for him and found him and the car. Should he accept defeat now that he had ruined Charlie's car? Or should he keep going? He had no idea where he was. He hoped he was driving back to the remains of his sister's house, but with the weather, he may not even be on the right road going in the right direction. Part of him now regretted his decision to come out here in the first place. He could be completely lost with no way to signal his position. He suddenly wished he had one of Kyle's flare guns. That would be handy right about now. But instead, he was growing hotter with each passing minute. It was turning into a warm day after all.

With a sigh, he got up off the tree branch and walked back to the car. The dented trunk was hanging open, as useless as the rest of the car now, thanks to him. He opened it and peered inside.

The trunk was a mess. It looked like whatever was in here was once organized and neat, but thanks to his episode with the tree, everything was now scattered all over the trunk floor. There was a thick cotton blanket, batters, water bottles, granola bars, and thankfully a large police flashlight.

Thank you, Sam thought, grabbing the flashlight as well as a few granola bars. I wonder who's idea it was to have all this in here?

He unwrapped a bar and took a big bite. It was thick and chewy. He wondered whether t was supposed to be that way or if age had gotten to it. The last thing he needed right now was a stomachache. He took another bite.

"Sammy!"

He froze. What was that? He looked around, hoping and dreading to see someone standing out on the road. But there was no one there. The environment was as empty as it had been for the past several minutes, or however long it had been since he'd regained consciousness.

He shrugged. I must've hit my head pretty hard. He turned back to the car.

"Sammy!"

This time he spun around quickly, ready to confront whoever or whatever it was. It was a female's voice, sounding very similar to the one that he thought he heard in the hallway outside of his apartment the night he met Clay, which seemed so long ago now. What was this, a practical joke? A hallucination? Whatever it was, it was getting old.

"Sammy, I'm over here!"

This time it sounded like it came from further in the woods. He turned warily away from the road.

At first, he saw nothing but trees. It was almost impossible to make anything out through the foliage. It was almost an entire forest of green in front of him, save for a few brown branches here and there.

Who in their right mind would be out there? Sam thought. There's nothing out there.

But then he saw it. In the sea of green ahead of him, he could make out a patch of darker green. Squinting, determined to make it out properly, it looked like someone was actually standing there in a green jacket. He shook his head. Was he seeing right? He rubbed his temples for a few moments and looked back, certain whatever it was would be gone. Instead, it looked even closer now. He squinted again and saw that it was indeed a person.

"Who-?"

"Sammy!" The voice echoed through the trees, almost forcing Sam to take a step backward. He knew that sound usually echoed in environments like this, but this voice still sounded...different. It felt vibrant in some way. He couldn't put his finger on it. And who was it calling his name? He closed his eyes again, trying to concentrate. When he opened them, the person was closer again, this time only about fifty feet away.

It was a woman, with dark brown hair and brown eyes. She was wearing a white T-shirt underneath an olive-green jacket with blue jeans and what looked like combat boots. Her eyes were locked onto his, and her mouth curled up into a smile.

Descriptions and images ran through his mind briefly, and he spoke.

"Ch-Charlie?"

Her smile grew wider and, her mouth opened.

"Come with me, Sammy," she said in a soft voice that again seemed to echo off the trees around them. Without another word, she turned and began walking fast into the trees.

"Wait, Charlie!" called Sam, beginning to run after her, his flashlight in hand. "Charlie, wait up!"

Clay screeched to a halt outside a relatively small brick house on the outskirts of town.

"Don't you have official police planes or something?" Kyle asked.

"Nope. Not in a town this size," Clay replied, "but stuff like this really makes me wish we did."

He and Kyle got out along with John and Jessica in the backseat, both of whom eagerly volunteered to go with him. Carlton had wanted to come along, but his condition rendered it unwise. Besides, someone needed to keep his mother company. Clay decided it would be better for him to stay on the ground to hone in on any reports they may give him.

"So who is this again we're seeing?" John asked.

"An old retired friend of mine from the department," said Clay. "He owes me a few favors."

Clay gave a few sharp knocks on the green wooden door. Moments later, a man answered. He had the face of an elderly man in his seventies but the body of an athlete. His hair was gray, clearly showing age. Jessica noted he looked very similar to Clay but only older and more somber.

"Well, look at what the cat dragged in," he said with a toothy grin, extending a hand. "I'd almost thought you'd forgotten about me. What happened to all those visits you promised, eh?"

"I've been busy," said Clay, returning the smile and handshake. "How've you been, Bill?"

"Aside from the bad news on the TV every day and Alyssa constantly grumbling about not hearing from our kids every few minutes, not too bad. What's been going on since I left? I've heard some interesting reports about more kidnaps."

"That's all behind us," said Clay hopefully. "Taken care of for good, but that's not why we're here."

"Oh?" said Bill. "And to what do I owe the pleasure?"

Clay sighed. "Do you still have that old hunk of junk?"

Bill's face dropped, his confusion evident in his wrinkles. "Yeah, it's in the back. Haven't used it in a few years, though. These bones aren't as young as they used to be. Why?"

"It's a long story," said Clay, "but I'll give you the essentials. May we come in?"

Bill hesitated, finally giving the others a good look, before nodding. "Sure. Come on in."

Clay glanced at Kyle, who gave him a concerned look.

"Hunk of junk?"

"Charlie, wait!"

Sam's knees were beginning to protest. He had no idea what time it was. To his disappointment, he had discovered that his watch had shattered upon impact in the car. It was a cheap digital watch with a screen that was now completely black. He had no idea how long he'd been chasing after her, but his only guess was at least an hour. Where was she taking him, and why was she running from him in the first place? If she was leading him somewhere, she could at least talk to him, say hi to him after all these years, and walk with him. If she clearly knew who he was and called him out by name, why the chase? It didn't make sense.

He stopped to catch his breath. The wind picked up a little bit. The breeze flew past Sam's face and he sighed. He needed that. He still wasn't sure exactly how injured he was. He might have a concussion, and his arm was still hurting. It didn't feel broken, but it had definitely been crushed.

"Sammy!"

That voice echoed again through the trees and he looked over to its direction...or at least the direction he thought it had come from. Charlie was nowhere to be found.

What is this? A game?

A game. Hide and seek, perhaps? Was Charlie so excited to see him alive after thinking he was the one dead (according to John) that she couldn't help but play a game? But why here and now? Why all the walking? His mind was hurting more and more with each passing moment.

"Sammy!"

It was louder this time, making him jump. He turned and saw her again standing about fifty feet in front of him. She waved at him and smiled before turning and walking down a hill out of sight.

"Charlie, where are you going? What is all this about?" Sam said, moving toward where she was only moments before. When he approached the top of the hill, she was already at the bottom.

How is she moving so fast? he thought, taking off after her again as best as he could. It doesn't even look like she's actually running!

He stopped dead in his tracks. It doesn't even look like she's running. She's just walking.

He looked down the hill. She had stopped once more and was staring back at him. Even from a distance, he could see the details of her face. Her eyes were wide, her hair perfectly matted and combed, which was a bit weird considering her constant running. Her smile faltered slightly upon seeing his hesitation. Raising a hand, she beckoned toward him.

Sam remained rooted to his spot, unsure of what to do. His mind was racing. He still desperately wanted to catch up to her, to wrap his arms around her and embrace her, to ask her all the questions he had. Why was she being so mysterious?

As if she understood his dilemma, she extended her arms as though ready to receive his embrace. Sam relented, pushing his doubts from his mind and took off running down the hill, only subtly picking up on a recently-familiar sense of nausea.

"Well, here she is!" Bill proudly exclaimed, gesturing to the old single-engine aircraft. It was old, dark blue, paint peeling off. The right-wing looked like it

"And how old is this exactly?" Kyle asked.

"1946."

"'46?" Kyle exclaimed. "That old? Really?"

Bill nodded, his pride still evident on his face. "But don't judge the book by its cover," he said, walking over and banging on the side. "She still runs beautifully, at least she did when I last took her out. What were you looking for anyway?" His smile fell a little out of curiosity.

"Someone who's gone missing," Clay explained.

"Oh, really? Suspect?"

"Well…" Clay wasn't sure exactly how to explain it without giving too much unnecessary details away. "Let's just say we're looking for someone who's not really in their right state of mind right now." Bill shot him a confused look, but Clay shook his head. "Don't ask."

Bill raised his hands. "Alright, you're the boss, now." He turned to Kyle. "So you think you can fly her, kid?"

Kyle, who had opened the door and was already acquainting himself with the inside, scowled. Being called "kid" reminded him of that day.

"Yeah, I think so," he said irritably.

"You know how to work the flaps?"

"Yeah."

"You know where the throttle is?"

"Yeah."

"You know how-?"

"He's fine, Bill. He does this all the time," said Clay reassuringly, giving Kyle a hopeful glance. Kyle nodded.

"Yeah, I got this," he said, turning to the concerned looks Jessica and John were giving him. "Relax," he told them. "I've flown planes like this all the time back home, or at least they were close to this."

John and Jessica looked at each other, still suspicious of what they were getting into, but reluctantly climbed aboard behind Kyle.

Bill turned to Clay. "You're not going with them?"

Clay shook his head. "I want to keep my eyes open down here. Your radio still work?"

Bill nodded. "It's dusty, but it should still work."

"Good. Get it up and running. I want to be able to move as soon as they find something."

"You're pretty desperate to find this guy. Who is he, anyway?"

Clay sighed. "The relative of an old friend."

As the propellers sprang to life, Kyle let out an audible sigh of relief.

"Good. I was a little worried for a second there."

"Why?" Jessica asked, her worry still clearly etched onto her face.

"Well, from what I hear, if the propeller doesn't start by the second or third attempt, there's a good chance it'll fail in midair," said Kyle simply, giving a small shrug. "Or at least that's what my dad's friends told me. Some of them are real jokesters, though. That's probably where my sense of humor comes from." He gave a small laugh in a vain attempt to lighten the mood.

"And if it fails like that while we're up in the air..." Jessica thought aloud.

"...then this baby'll get a mind of its own and decide to pursue its lifelong dream of being a miner or a submarine," said Kyle, smirking when he saw Jessica's face sink even further.

"Let's just get up in the air," said John, annoyed but with a hint of sorrow in his voice. "I want to find Sam as soon as possible."

"Yeah, definitely," said Kyle, gently coasting the plane forward out onto the makeshift runway Bill had created in his backyard.

Jessica turned to John. "John, are you okay?"

He looked back at her. "What do you mean?"

"Are you okay?" she repeated.

He said nothing, trying his best to keep his face blank but his eyes were betraying him. "I'll be okay when we find him."

Jessica sat back in her seat, turning away and looking out her window as the plane began picking up speed.

"Buckle up, we're taking off!" Kyle announced, followed the upward sensation enveloping their stomachs as the plane lifted upward toward the sky. "Oh, what a beautiful rise that was!"

John and Jessica both fell back into their seats. Jessica was clutching the sides very tightly, making John chuckle slightly. He remembered her telling him and the others about her fear of flying when they were kids. The fact that their pilot was about their age probably wasn't helping, either.

At the controls, Kyle picked up the radio receiver. "Clay, can you hear me?"

"Affirmative," came Clay's voice from the other end. "How are you doing up there?"

"Fine. Controls are a little rusty, but I think we'll manage."

"Okay. Let me know as soon as you find something."

"Roger that," said Kyle, putting the receiver down. "Alright," he announced proudly. "Let's go find Sam!"

At his end, Clay put back his receiver and sat with a cup of coffee at the kitchen table. Even though it was a little past noon at this point, he didn't feel like drinking anything else. He wanted something to keep him alert.

"They doing alright?" Bill said, appearing from the kitchen.

"Sounds like it," said Clay. "I think they'll be fine."

"That's good. I told you, that old thing was a beauty back in her heyday. She may not look good now, but she gets the job done."

"I don't doubt it," said Clay quietly.

"You alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just tired."

"You sure? I haven't seen you look like that since...well…"

Since the incidents all those years ago. Clay got the implication.

"I'll be fine. Just nervous."

"So who is this guy you're looking for, anyway?" Bill asked, approaching the table.

Clay sighed. He hadn't really wanted to go into detail, but Bill was an old friend whose equipment they were currently borrowing.

"Do you remember Henry, the owner?"

"Of Freddy's? Yeah. Weird guy, but pretty creative, by the looks of it. Why?"

Clay sighed again. "It's his son."

Bill's eyebrows raised. "He had a son?"

"Yeah."

"Why's he here now?"

"To be honest, I brought him here to help us with an...investigation. Apparently Henry had another restaurant in another town before he came here, and this son of his knows a little bit about it."

"Ah, so he's a witness?"

"You could say that."

"Well, what about his other kid? Didn't he have a daughter, too?"

Clay winced, trying his best to hide it. "She's...not available at the moment."

Bill shrugged. "So why did this kid go missing?"

"I think he's trying to find something on his own."

"What do you mean?"

"Now that he's back, the memories are probably getting to him and he wants to explore more of the town."

"Really?"

Clay looked at Bill. Bill was a close friend whom he'd shared many secrets with back in the day, but this was still a little too personal.

"Yeah, I think so. He left without any word, and his mother's here-"

"Ah, so Mom's worried. I see. Well, I'm sure we'll find him. The town's not that big," Bill said, heading back to the kitchen.

Clay sighed once more. That's not what I'm worried about. He remembered Sam's face last night. The sorrow upon learning the truth, the anger when he discovered they were ending their search, the look of utter despair forming deep in his eyes. Clay had seen this exact look one other time: on his father's face the day before he took his own life.

The plane soared over a mountain's peak a little too close for comfort, making Jessica cringe.

"Sorry," said Kyle, noticing her reaction. "Like I said, still getting used to these controls."

John glanced out the window, eager to take his mind off of the current situation. He looked down at the vast, mostly empty landscapes zooming by below them. Unlike Jessica, he loved flying. He'd always wished he could see the mountains and winding roads from the air. It was like a small, silver line bending to and from through the dirt like a snake, traveling in an unknown direction to an unknown location. Just going, going, going. It reminded him of himself, particularly these last several months. Working in construction, searching for reality in the midst of illusions, soldiering on through it all to an unknown destination. In the back of his mind, once everything hopefully calmed down and got at least somewhat back to normal, perhaps he could write a story about it.

"John?" Jessica said, her voice low and quiet, trying not to draw too much extra attention from Kyle. "Are you okay?"

He looked at her. She had moved slightly closer to him, their faces only about a foot apart now.

"I'll be fine," he said simply, but Jessica didn't budge.

"John, I've seen that face before. Something's bothering you. What is it?"

Their eyes remained locked, and John shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He hated it when she looked at him like that. He always did. Even when they were younger, she could make him confess to almost anything when she gave him that searching look. It reminded him of his mom. One time in kindergarten, he'd put a spider in her lunch, and after drawing everyone's amused attention with her screams, she immediately glared at him and forced his confession despite him trying his hardest to hide his guilty smile.

"Jessica," he began, "do you think that we did the right thing?"

Her glare softened. She was a bit confused now. "Why do you mean?"

"Do you think we did the right thing?"

"When? Last night?"

"More than that, but mostly last night, yeah."

"What about it?"

"Well, to be honest, I feel guilty."

"About what?"

"Everything. About going away like I did, about not telling you the truth sooner, about betraying Sam…"

"Betray? Why do you say that?"

"Jessica, look at what 's happening!" John's voice began rising, anger beginning to reveal itself. "Charlie's gone, Clay shows up with none other than her twin brother whom she'd told me a lot about, and in one night, he discovers everything that's happened. He found out his sister died years ago for crying out loud! And then here I am telling him about seeing her again, giving him that spark of hope that he needs to keep looking for her! And then immediately afterward, all of us, including me, tell him to just give up! What kind of friend does that? And I haven't even been his friend for that long!"

She said nothing, soaking in his words.

"This is my fault, Jessica," he explained, calming down a bit with that weight off of his chest. "I should've stood up for him. I don't know why I didn't. Deep down, I wasn't ready to give up, either, but with everything that was happening, I didn't say anything. I should have. Now look at what's going on. He's gone, and it's because of me."

"Don't say that, John," she said sternly, giving him a warning glance when he tried to protest. "It's not your fault. It's mine. I know was mad at you before, but I understand how hard it must have been for you, knowing what you knew. I wasn't helping with my outbursts, either."

Now John remained silent, turning away from her slowly. He felt like a complete failure. With Charlie gone, the only thing he could do was help connect with her long-lost brother, but now Sam was missing, too. Jessica didn't understand what he was going through. Or maybe she did. Maybe he was being stupid and wrongly isolating himself once more. After a few moments, he spoke.

"Why did all of this have to happen? Life was perfectly normal here, and then what started as a nice reunion two years ago eventually led to this. It's like this town wants to do nothing but ruin people's lives."

"It's okay, John," she said, putting a hand on his shoulder. "We'll find him, and I'm on your side about finding her, too."

He looked back at her and she smiled. He couldn't help but smile back. As much as Marla was usually the one with a contagious attitude, Jessica had her own way of spreading her joys from time to time. He turned back to the window as they began flying over the trees, a newer sense of determination rising within him. They would find him. He was certain of it. It was only a matter of time. Sooner or later, something of interest would catch their eye.

"Wait!" Jessica cried suddenly, making John jump in his seat.

"What?" he said, looking over her shoulder out the window.

"Do you see that?" She pointed downward.

"No. What are you seeing?" John said, gently pushing Jessica out of the way, though it was still a harder shove than he intended. She spat hair out of her face and sat up, glaring at him. "Sorry. What do you see?"

"Look down there! At the edge of the treeline there!"

John looked down, eyes still scanning the green and brown below for any sign of interest. Nothing stood out.

"Jessica, I'm not seeing-"

But then, it caught his attention. In the sea of green below, he could make out a small patch of blue.

"Hey, Kyle?"

"Yeah, I see it," he said, grabbing the radio receiver. "Hey, Clay. I think we just found Charlie's car."