"Lightning Strikes Twice"
Written by: Phil Turner, Peregrene, and Linda Ford
Directed by: Bobbynear
Producer(s): Peregrene, Lea Ames, and Linda Ford
Location Manager: Peregrene
Post Production: Lyricist, Anita, Phil Turner, R.A., Bobbynear, Peregrene, and CoronetBlue
Creator: Roy Huggins
PROLOGUE
FORT COLLINS, COLORADO - DEPARTURE AREA, BUDGET LINES BUS DEPOT - A SUNNY AFTERNOON IN JANUARY
Richard Kimble, ticket in hand, emerges from the depot and approaches the bus for Steamboat Springs. He is wearing new snow boots and the ski sweater, hat and scarf he received at Christmas. The bus driver, a black man with a cheerful face, is stowing tagged luggage in the exterior side compartment of the bus. The camera shows Kimble's point of view as he joins the line to board.
Ahead of him is a diminutive white-haired woman, holding her coat, a small suitcase and a shopping bag. Three boisterous teenaged boys with skis and backpacks fall in line behind Kimble.
"I'm telling you," a gung-ho teen declares to his friends, "Steamboat has some of the best powder in the world!"
The taller one laughs. "Like you would know."
"No, man, it'll be way better than Vail. I promise!"
The third groans. "I knew we should've held out for Vail," he says jokingly.
"Hold it right there, young fellah!" calls the bus driver. All eyes pivot to a nerdy youth wearing glasses and a Walkman who has just started to board the bus. "You travelin' with any luggage?" the driver asks the boy.
"No, sir. Just this," the youth replies, tapping a shoulder carry-all.
"Well, mister, you don't get on my bus till I've checked your ticket and hand-searched your bag. That sound fair?"
"Yes, sir." The boy sheepishly hands his carry-all to the driver who makes a brief search then hands it back with a smile. "NOW you may board!" The driver turns his attention to the elderly lady in front of Kimble.
Daniel Moser
"NOW you may board"
Edith Parsons
"I'm visiting my nephew"
"I'm visiting my nephew's family in Steamboat Springs," she offers in a thin voice.
The driver takes her suitcase and stows it below. "What's in the shopping bag, ma'am?"
"Banana bread and oatmeal cookies. I baked them fresh this morning."
The driver lifts the bag to his nose and grins. "Smells good! You enjoy your visit, ma'am." He looks at Kimble, who hands him his duffle bag.
"This is all I have," Kimble says.
The driver quickly unzips the bag and makes a cursory check through the contents. He gives it back with a nod for Kimble to board, then reaches behind him for the teenagers' skis. Relieved, Kimble steps up into the bus.
INSIDE THE BUS
The elderly woman is having trouble stowing her heavy coat in the overhead rack and is blocking the aisle. "I'm all butterfingers today," she apologizes.
Kimble recognizes the symptoms of arthritis. "Let me help," he says, assisting her.
"They make those racks so high," she explains in her wavery voice. "People like me can't reach."
"You're all set now," Kimble says kindly.
"Thank you! I'll get out of your way." She takes her seat and Kimble continues toward the rear of the bus.
Most of the passengers are winter tourists; many are retirees. He passes a family with two middle school-aged daughters, dutifully completing homework, an overweight black couple and a pair of Japanese businessmen opening their laptops. Further back, a worried-looking college student is conversing on her cell phone.
Kimble finds an unoccupied seat by the window. He removes his hat and scarf and stows them with his down jacket and duffle bag.
OUTSIDE THE BUS
The driver rubs his hands from the cold as he waits for last minute passengers.
"Final boarding for Steamboat Springs," he calls, then glances at his watch. Suddenly a long-legged brunette in a fur coat and tailored red pantsuit hurries out of the depot. She hands the driver a suit bag and scans the windows for an empty seat.
"Seating's not reserved. We still got plenty available. You just sit where you like, ma'am," the driver says, locking the luggage compartment.
INSIDE THE BUS
Kimble watches as the brunette makes her way up the aisle. She sees the unoccupied seat across from him and heads for it, nodding pleasantly at Kimble as she sits. Kimble returns a polite smile. The driver boards the bus and closes the door.
"Good afternoon, ladies and gents," he says, his voice amplified over the speaker system. "I'm your driver, Daniel Moser."
THE BUS ON ROUTE 14
The driver's voice is heard continuing his spiel as the bus begins its steep ascent into the Rocky Mountains. Kimble's face is seen gazing at the snowy peaks.
"The Rockies are the longest mountain chain on the planet, so take a good look out your windows, folks; we'll be climbing into some of the world's most spectacular scenery! Depending upon road conditions in the higher altitudes, our journey will take around four hours. We should be in Steamboat Springs by 8:00 this evening-in time for a late supper. All you have to do is sit back, enjoy, and leave the driving to me."
INSIDE THE BUS - 30 MIN. LATER
"Business or pleasure?"
Kimble tears his gaze away from the view. The brunette has opened a small bag of pretzels and sociably offers him some. He hesitates, but hunger gets the better of him. "Thanks. It's been awhile since lunch."
"So...which is it?"
He looks at her, confused. Her face is illuminated by a wide smile. "Business or pleasure?"
"I'm hoping to find work."
"Mmm," she says, munching. "What do you do?"
He hesitates briefly. "I'm a ski instructor."
She laughs. "I should have guessed. The trio in front could use your expertise, by the look of it," she adds, referring to the teenage boys.
"You don't think they've ever skied before?"
"I highly doubt it. Beginner's slopes, maybe. Why Steamboat?"
Kimble considers before answering. "I honeymooned there. It has...wonderful memories. Also, the powder is good."
She laughs again. "I wish it were pleasure for me. I'm working a case." She offers him the last pretzel.
Kimble refuses. "You're a social worker?"
"Leslie Grunheim, private investigator."
Unnerved by this revelation, Kimble mumbles, "Larry Sherman," and looks away.
PASSING THROUGH THE TOWN OF RUSTIC - SUNSET
The bus enters the tiny town of Rustic, passing a gas station and 'mom and pop' general store.
"Rustic, Colorado, the only town between here and the other side of the Pass. Don't blink, or you'll miss it!" Daniel advises merrily.
In a moment the bus leaves Rustic behind, negotiating hairpin curves as it climbs ever higher.
INSIDE THE BUS - EVENING
Reading lights are on in the bus. The passengers are quieter now that night has fallen. The two middle school girls, playing electronic games, are the only noise-makers. Across from Kimble, Grunheim is absorbed in a novel. From where he is sitting, Kimble can read the book's title, LIGHTNING by Danielle Steele.
Growing uncomfortable, Kimble stretches his legs. He cups his hands against the glass to block the light from the interior, and peers out his window. After only a few feet of shoulder, the edge falls off into darkness. There are no guard rails.
"We've been ascending the Cache La Poudre River Canyon," Daniel informs them over the speaker. "If you're feeling a little light-headed, it's because we'll soon be going over Cameron Pass, elevation 10,275 feet. The Pass separates the Never Summer Mountains from the Medicine Bow Range. Up here temperatures stay well below freezing this time of year." He reaches for his thermos, anticipating a hot cup of coffee.
The youth with the Walkman exits the restroom and passes down the aisle. Seeing that the facilities are free at last, Kimble rises and retrieves his duffle bag.
THE RESTROOM
The fugitive squeezes into the tiny cubicle and locks the door. He removes his sweater and pulls his toilette kit from the duffle bag, balancing it on the edge of the sink. Kimble unzips it, revealing hair dye and assorted contact lenses. He bends over the sink and begins to wash his face.
FRONT OF THE BUS
Feeling the cold, the elderly woman stands unsteadily and attempts to retrieve her coat from the overhead rack.
At the wheel, Daniel pours himself some coffee, replaces the stopper and raises the steaming cup to his lips, taking a long sip. Abruptly, he lets go of the cup.
THE DRIVER'S SEAT - Slow motion
Scalding coffee splashes over Daniel's shirt in slow motion as he clutches his chest in pain. The cup hits the floor and bounces.
THE RESTROOM - Slow motion
Kimble lurches and is thrown against the wall of the restroom. He reaches out to brace himself. The toilette kit and its contents are strewn every which way.
FRONT OF THE BUS - Slow motion
The old woman teeters backward. Her head meets the metal pole behind the driver's seat and her eyelids flutter closed.
CAMERON PASS
The two girls scream shrilly as the speeding bus swerves across the median, it's headlights illuminating the snowy rock face on one side of the road and the sheer drop on the other.
THE RESTROOM
Attempting to unlock the restroom door, Kimble is horrified to find the floor tipping beneath him. He sprawls, hitting the sink. Above him the ceiling lists at a forty-five degree angle.
CAMERON PASS
The front wheels of the bus dip out into space and spin ineffectually as gravity takes over. Passenger screams mingle with the sounds of crushing metal and the snapping of branches as the bus plummets.
FLASHBACK TO THE NIGHT OF KIMBLE'S ESCAPE
Kimble remembers the screeching sounds of another night-time highway accident, when the van carrying him to Death Row crashed into a tractor-trailer rig.
Flashback to the accident
CAMERON PASS
The tops of trees are twisted and flattened by the near vertical descent of the bus. The splintering noise echoes ominously up and down the canyon walls. From the summit of the Pass a sharp crack, like lightning is heard, followed by a thunderous rumble.
The bus for Steamboat Springs snags briefly in a thick line of evergreens. It rolls onto its side, skids, then smashes against a rocky outcrop. The lights go out. The wails of passengers are drowned by the thundering from the top of the Pass. A wall of white is on the move at frightening speed.
The bus lies directly in the path of the avalanche. The force of the cascading snow dislodges the bus and carries it further down the mountain, depositing it upright on a narrow ledge. In moments it is covered over. The rumbles die away as the avalanche continues its destructive journey down the mountainside. The moonlit landscape is steeped in an eerie silence.
INSIDE THE BUS
Whimpers and moaning are heard in the darkness. Disoriented, Leslie Grunheim opens her eyes and gropes under the seat for her hold-everything shoulder bag. She finds her lighter, lifting it high. Half of the passengers and their possessions have tumbled to one side of the bus. More lighters flare as people attempt to extricate themselves from the wreckage.
"Is anyone hurt?" Leslie calls. Her own throat is bleeding and her suit torn. She surveys the damage about her and notices Kimble's empty seat. "Mr. Sherman?" She raises her voice and calls again, "Mr. Sherman!"
A muffled pounding is heard from the restroom. "Someone is locked inside," says one of the businessmen, struggling up from the aisle.
Leslie's long legs step over fallen coats and carry-ons. The door to the restroom will not budge. She lifts the lighter higher and sees that the roof of the bus has buckled, effectively pinning the door in its frame. The Japanese businessman and his partner join her.
"Don't worry, Mr. Sherman," she calls. We'll get you out!"
"Is the driver all right?" Kimble shouts indistinctly through the door.
"The driver's dead!" announces the father of the two girls from the front of the bus.
There are screams of shock.
FRONT OF THE BUS
The disheveled passengers in front are bent over the body of Daniel Moser, who is hanging lifeless from his seatbelt.
"He's had a coronary," the father says, stricken.
Sudden sobbing distracts everyone and they turn to a woman tourist who is gazing at the floor in horror. A thin leg without a shoe protrudes lifelessly from under the metal seat supports.
"It's the old lady," the taller teen-aged boy says, hushed.
"Help me get her out," the father requests, taking charge. "Easy does it!" They gently free the woman and lay her across some jackets.
"Oh God," the girls' mother says, hugging her daughters protectively. "Is she still breathing?"
"A doctor! We need a doctor right now!" appeals the father hopelessly.
THE RESTROOM
It is too dark in the tiny restroom to see clearly. Kimble has his ear up against the door. "I can help!" he cries urgently. "Is there a first-aid kit on board?"
"Are you hurt, Mr. Sherman?" Leslie asks from the other side.
"No-not me. I'm only bruised. I need to see the injured passengers!" Kimble's head bows with frustration.
"They've found the driver's toolkit," Leslie informs him. "It won't be long now."
MIDSECTION OF THE BUS
Passengers in front are passing the toolkit along with the driver's heavy duty flashlight to the back. The flashlight beam bounces over the stunned faces of the travelers to the wall of snow, packed solid beyond the windows. It is the first time the travelers have caught a good look at their predicament.
"Lord have mercy, we're buried!" the black woman says, doing a 360 degree.
"My cell phone's not working!" cries the college student, clutching her phone to her chest. "I've got to reach my mother. She'll be worried sick!"
"She won't know anything's happened. No one does, yet," a bearded man observes."
"We're out of signal range," confirms the Walkman dude, holding up his cell phone.
"Then how will anyone find us?" Her question goes unanswered.
BACK OF THE BUS
Leslie Grunheim takes the toolkit and passes it to the first businessman. She trains the flashlight while he opens the kit and confers with his partner in Japanese. They choose a crowbar and begin to pry back the restroom door. Kimble's face appears. He pushes the door from the inside and squeezes through the opening with his duffle bag.
The first businessman eyes him hopefully. "You are perhaps a doctor, Mr. Sherman?"
"Ski instructor," Kimble says, donning his sweater. "I've been trained in emergency aid." He notices Leslie's throat.
"I'm fine-it was just a piece of flying glass. The bus has a couple broken windows." She lays a cautionary hand on his arm. "Up front there's a woman who's unconscious."
Kimble hastens down the littered aisle, followed by Leslie with the flashlight. Someone is softly weeping. "Does anyone need a doctor?" he asks. Hands go up on both sides of the bus. Kimble takes in the various cuts and abrasions.
FRONT OF THE BUS
As Kimble approaches the front, two of the teenaged boys shine pocket flashlights on their gung-ho companion. "Brad's hurt, sir."
Kimble stops beside the hunched-over boy. "What's wrong?"
Brad looks up, his face colorless and strained. "I can't move my legs... I can't stand... I think everything's broken," he whispers miserably.
"Hang on, I'll be right back," Kimble says reassuringly. "There's a woman up front I have to attend to first."
He joins the group kneeling on the floor beside the old woman. One of the girls holds a pen light. Kimble sees that the driver's first-aid kit is open and that the mother has cleaned and applied band-aids to the minor wounds. "Good job," he praises. He checks the old lady's pulse and opens her eyes. "She has a concussion." Then he feels along the back of her skull. "A contusion," he adds with deepening concern. "At her age there could be internal hemorrhaging. We must get her to a hospital!"
Everyone stares at him with the same unspoken question-how?
"For now, she should be kept warm," Kimble instructs, drawing the woman's wool coat over her thin frame.
The other daughter passes the old lady's purse and shopping bag to Leslie. "There are cookies inside, but they're broken."
Leslie retrieves a wallet and photo I.D. from the purse. "Edith Parsons," she reads aloud.
"Edith has a nephew in Steamboat Springs who should be notified," remarks Kimble, getting up. "Look for a phone number."
He turns to the girls' father, who has laid the driver out on the floor between the first two seats and covered his body with a travel blanket. Kimble lifts the blanket and checks Daniel's carotid artery, then nods a sad confirmation to the father.
"I'm Jake Whittier," the man says, reaching out to shake Kimble's hand. "My wife, Karen, and our daughters, Pamela and Penney," he adds, indicating his family.
"Larry Sherman."
"What do you know about radios, Larry?" Whittier motions Kimble over to the driver's panel. "I'm no expert, but I think the radio is dead along with the engine." Kimble tries both without success. Other passengers come forward to watch.
The two businessmen enquire, "No engine?"
"It may just be flooded," Kimble says with more hope than he feels.
"If we can get it running, we'd at least have heat," Leslie comments.
Kimble opens the glove compartment." "Well, we've got a package of flares-four."
"If we're going to use them, we'll have to dig ourselves out first," Whittier states. "I've tried the door-the snow has it jammed good and shut."
Kimble steps down into the stairwell.
"You are needing this, I think," announces the second business man, brandishing the crowbar.
In no time the men are exerting muscle to budge the door, while the passengers look on anxiously. The bus begins to rock from side to side. Suddenly, there is a jarring sound as the bus slips from its perch on the ledge and moves downward.
"We're moving!" passengers wail.
"BACK!" Kimble shouts. "Everyone to the back of the bus!" He picks Edith Parsons up in his arms and joins the mass exodus to the rear.
The teens lift Kevin from his feet, supporting his weight.
"Take your personal possessions with you!" Leslie yells. "It will decrease the load on the front end."
"Oh, Lord, watch over us!" the black woman beseeches fearfully.
BACK OF THE BUS
The front end of the bus is now pitched lower than the rear.
Kimble gently lays Edith across his own seat. Around him passengers are in panic.
"We've got to get out of the bus!" the bearded man cries. "It could continue to slide at any moment."
"And freeze to death outside? You heard what the driver said about temperatures at this elevation," a retired woman retorts.
"We'll suffocate if we stay buried in here!" the cell phone girl cries, becoming claustrophobic.
Kimble approaches Brad, who has been helped to a seat by his friends. "Let's get those legs up and we'll take a look at them," he directs in good bedside manner. The boys shine their pocket flashlights while Karen Whittier stands ready with the first-aid kit. "Is there some Tylenol in there?" Kimble asks. She produces foil packs and opens two. The taller boy unbuckles his backpack and offers Brad a bottle of water to wash down the pills.
"Thanks, man," Brad manages. His good hand trembles as he holds the bottle up to his lips.
Kimble rolls back Brad's pants and examines his legs. "You're lucky. You have a simple fracture below the knee. It could be worse," he tells the teen consolingly. "The left leg seems fine."
"But it won't bend," Brad complains.
"Did you fall directly onto your kneecap?"
Brad nods.
"That will do it," Kimble affirms. "Give it time, and have the knee X-rayed when they X-ray the break. I'm betting you'll make a full recovery." He surveys the wreckage about them. "I'll need something firm to immobilize his right leg."
Leslie, who has been listening, quickly unzips her large shoulder bag and pulls out the stiffener at the bottom. "Will this do?"
"Excellent." Kimble turns to Penney, who is holding a pillow under her arm. "May I have your pillowcase?" She nods. Kimble rips it into lengths and begins to expertly bind the break.
Meanwhile, the passengers continue to debate the best course of action.
"Someone will have to go outside to set the flares," Whittier says.
The Japanese businessmen begin knocking broken glass out of one of the windows. "We dig hole, yes?"
Several of the men join them, vigorously scooping out a passage in the snow.
"Mom, I've got to use the restroom," Pamela says plaintively.
"I'll take her," Leslie offers, seeing that Karen is busy treating passengers with minor injuries. Shining her flashlight, she leads Pamela to the restroom and pulls back the damaged door.
"Does it work?" Pamela asks, looking at the toilet nervously.
"Honey, it's all we have."
While Leslie waits, she watches Kimble diagnose a retiree's dislocated shoulder, then apply an Ace bandage to a sprained wrist.
"I'm done," announces Pamela, exiting the restroom. The flashlight beam falls momentarily on a small box overlooked in the corner. Leslie recognizes it as a brand of men's hair dye. She scrutinizes Kimble more intently.
The men at the open window have managed to clear a vertical shaft to the top of the bus.
"Volunteers!" calls Whittier. His breath hangs in the frosty air.
Brad's buddies exchange glances. "We'll go, sir!"
"And you are...?" Whittier enquires.
"Joshua," the taller boy answers, "and Kyle."
"Okay, Joshua and Kyle. All we want you to do is crawl up to the roof, get our bearings and set this flare. Don't explore beyond the bus. There could be pockets in the snow and we don't know what might be below."
"No problem," Joshua replies, peering up the narrow passage. Leslie hands him the driver's powerful flashlight.
One after the other, the boys step up onto the seat, then hoist themselves out the window. The passengers wait in silence, listening tensely to the dull thud of feet in the snow overhead.
After a moment, Joshua calls back down. "I can't see the road at all from here. We seem to be on a ledge... pretty far down the mountain... Kyle is setting the flare now." More thudding is heard and then both boys descend rapidly, followed by a sprinkling of snow. Their faces are pictures of alarm.
"What is it?" Whittier demands.
Joshua hesitates for a second, uneager to be the bearer of bad news. "There's like...three feet, and then a sheer drop-off directly in front of the bus," he reveals. The passengers gasp. "It's not as bad on this side," he hastens to add. "There's forest close by and the ground is level, once you get past the bus. On the other side, there's just white and more white."
"The main body of the avalanche," Whittier says, nodding.
"I say we take a vote!" the bearded man calls, raising his hand. "All in favor of heading for the woods, raise your hand!"
"Wait a minute," Kimble intervenes. "We have passengers that cannot possibly walk out of here, let alone be exposed to the wind and cold."
"You can't make us stay in this deathtrap!" the bearded man rejoins angrily.
"I'm leaving, too," the cell phone girl says, going to the window. "If I can, I'm going to climb back up to the road."
"In the dark? That's suicide!" Whittier exclaims.
"We should all of us wait near the crash site for the rescue team," Karen reasons.
"What rescue team? No one will even suspect we're missing until we fail to arrive at the depot," the bearded man argues loudly, "and when they do, they'll have no idea where to look!"
"He's right," Leslie admits to Kimble. "We could be lost anywhere between Rustic and Steamboat Springs. That's a lot of ground to cover. It may be hours before we're found."
"I'm hungry," Penny tells her mother.
"We all are," Karen replies at a loss. "You'll just have to wait."
"My Leon's a diabetic," the black woman interjects kindly. We always travel with sweets." She fishes in her purse. "Here you are, child."
"Thank you," Karen accepts gratefully on Penney's behalf. "We were expecting to have dinner in Steamboat."
CHICAGO, ILLINOIS - GERARD RESIDENCE, DINING ROOM
Philip Gerard is eating alone. He glances up when his daughter walks into the dining room. "You're a little late for dinner, Alex. Your food is cold."
"I'm sorry. I was on the internet. It won't happen again." She dishes up some fried chicken and coleslaw.
"The internet?" Gerard repeats disapprovingly. "Is your homework finished?"
"No, Daddy."
"If you'd started when you got home from school like you're supposed to, you'd have it done by now." He takes a sip of ice water. "Consider the internet off-limits until I see some improvement in your grades."
Alex gasps in protest. "But, Daddy, that's not fair! I need to go online to help me with my homework!"
"I've seen some of the sites you visit. I don't consider an appropriate educational aid."
Alex lays down her fork. "You've been spying on me?!" she sputters with disbelief.
"Simply exercising my parental prerogative," Gerard replies calmly.
Alex pushes back her chair and gets up from the table.
"Where do you think you are going?"
"To my room!"
"You will sit down and finish your dinner, young lady!" he orders, trying to hold onto his temper.
Reluctantly, Alex takes her seat, but she picks at her food defiantly.
"You've wasted way more time chasing Dr. Kimble than I ever have on the internet," she mutters under her breath.
Gerard's expression sets. "Would you care to repeat that statement?"
Alex glares down at her plate. "Well, it's true," she says at last.
Gerard takes a deep breath. "I want you to understand something, Alex. People in this country have lost respect for the law. When murderers are allowed to go free it tells people that the law is weak. That we can be bought. Well, some of us can't be."
"I know you're nothing like that jerk who killed Mom and got off...but neither is Dr. Kimble," Alex contends.
"I'm well aware that you think I have a personal vendetta against Richard Kimble."
Alex looks across the table at her father challengingly. "Well, don't you?"
"Kimble himself is not what's important," he declares earnestly. "What matters most to me is seeing that the law is upheld. I want to restore people's faith in the system. By finding the guilty and bringing them to justice I can do that. Suppose for a minute that I did believe Kimble was innocent and I looked the other way. How could I justify my actions to the jury who found him guilty? No," Gerard shakes his head. "No one is above the law, Alex. Remember that."
"But isn't there a higher law?" Alex suggests in equal earnest. "Did you ever consider that maybe God doesn't want you to catch Dr. Kimble?"
"I see you refuse to take this subject seriously," Gerard answers, irked. "You may go to your room."
"No!" Alex shouts angrily. "I'm not a little girl you can order around anymore. I can think for myself!" She stands and faces her father, her arms crossed in front of her. "I'm going back to live with Sara."
Gerard throws his napkin down on the table. "Our agreement was that you spend half of the school year with me. You are MY daughter!"
"Well, you're not providing a very good example!" Alex cries. "I've been here since Christmas and you're hardly ever home. The rest of the time you're telling me what to do. I'm old enough to be emancipated-I don't have to live with either of you!" Close to tears, she runs from the room.
Gerard stubbornly sits and watches his daughter go.
DENVER, COLORADO - NBC TV STUDIO - 8:00 PM
The news anchor turns to face the cued camera.
"Good evening. I'm Roger Leady, and this is 9News at eight. A traveler's advisory has been issued for Route 14 in Larimer County this evening. The State Highway Patrol reports an avalanche at Cameron Pass. Route 14 has been closed to thru-traffic at the Pass and is expected to stay closed through Thursday.
If you have business up that way, you are advised to use the phone or fax and to stay off the highway. The snow mass on the mountain has been declared unstable and further avalanches are to be anticipated.
Once more, Route 14 at Cameron Pass has been closed to thru-traffic this evening.
In other news around the state..."
STEAMBOAT SPRINGS - BUDGET LINES BUS DEPOT - 8:15
"What time do you expect the Fort Collins bus?" a slender middle-aged man is asking the ticket agent.
"Just a moment, sir," the agent replies. She steps back to the dispatch office behind her and pokes her head through the open door. "Has Fort Collins checked in yet?"
The dispatcher looks up at the clock on the wall. "It's cold tonight. He probably took it slow coming down the mountain. I'll raise him on the radio."
The dispatcher keys his microphone. "Steamboat Depot to Big Boy, do you read me, Big Boy?" He releases the key and listens for a response, then tries again. "Steamboat Depot-pick up Big Boy... Moser, do you read me?"
He waits, but there is no answer.
CAMERON PASS - INSIDE THE BUS
The interior of the bus is icing over. Passengers have piled on extra layers of clothing and some are huddling together to keep warm.
Kimble is now conferring with the black couple.
"Leon's complaining that he can't feel his feet," the wife tells him anxiously.
"It's my diabetes," Leon explains thickly.
"Poor circulation to the extremities," Kimble responds. He takes off his skarf and wraps it around Leon's feet. "We can't have you getting frostbite."
"We have warmer clothes, but they're in with our luggage," the wife frets.
"Hey, our sleeping bags are in the luggage compartment, too!" Kyle remembers. "Let's clear a path and get our stuff out!"
"The compartment is on the wrong side of the bus," Whittier observes. It would take forever to move all that snow without shovels."
"We should be conserving body heat, not expending it," Kimble warns. "Exertion in this weather poses a high risk of hypothermia."
"Then let's build a fire!" the Walkman dude suggests.
"In the bus?" the black woman asks, horrified.
"No, out in the woods. I'd rather be standing around a warm fire than freezing my butt off in a bus that could go right over the edge," he replies.
Several passengers nod in agreement, while others digest the idea.
"However cold it may get inside tonight, it's going to get a lot colder outside," Karen counters. "Whoever wants to go exploring should be dressed for it-and my family isn't. We'll take our chances in the bus."
"Count me in for the woods," Leslie says, raising the hood on her fur coat. "I'm an action junkie. Besides, some of us will have to venture out to set more flares higher up, where they'll be visible from the road."
"Hold on," a retiree objects. "Those flares only last about an hour each. We'll need the other three to mark the site of the crash for the rescue team."
"We can spare one, surely," Leslie says adamantly. "It won't help the rescue team much if they don't even know we're here."
"Has anyone got mountain climbing experience?" Whittier asks practically.
"Mr. Sherman is a ski instructor," Leslie informs everyone.
"My heavens, I thought you were a doctor!" the black woman exclaims.
Kimble studies the floor uncomfortably.
Leslie gives him a hard look. "What about it, Larry-you are going to guide the expedition, aren't you?"
All eyes turn to Kimble, who is caught in a lie and without comment.
STEAMBOAT SPRINGS - BUDGET LINES BUS DEPOT - 8:30
A concerned crowd has formed around the ticket counter and is waiting for news on the non-arrival of the bus from Fort Collins.
"I'm Jeff Parson," says the slender man. "My Aunt is supposed to be on that bus. "Could you please tell me if an Edith Parsons boarded in Fort Collins?"
The harried ticket agent rubs her forehead. "I don't have that information, sir. All we know is that the bus departed on time. And there is a section of road closed on Route 14. We have notified Highway Patrol to look into it. That's all we can do. I'm sorry."
The crowd murmurs discontentedly.
Bus passengers
"What about the rest of us?"
CAMERON PASS - INSIDE THE BUS
Snow accumulates on the floor of the bus as the two businessmen and several tourists take turns extending the passage.
"We should bring some fluids with us," Kimble recommends to the expedition party.
"The driver has a nearly full thermos of hot coffee," Karen interjects. "I'll get it."
"Be careful," Whittier cautions his wife as she heads down the pitched aisle to the front.
"What about the rest of us?" a retiree objects.
"There's still some water in the restroom," Leslie says.
"Couldn't we melt snow?" the cell phone girl asks.
"In what?" the Walkman dude questions. Karen returns with the thermos and Edith's shopping bag.
"Oh-Cookies!" Penny and Pamela cry hungrily. "May we, Mommy?"
They open the bag and find a Ziploc full of mostly crushed cookies and a loaf pan of banana bread. Kimble taps the aluminum pan. "This would be perfect for heating snow."
"Why don't those who are leaving take the banana bread and make their own hot water. Everyone else can share the cookies and coffee," Karen decides, doling them out. "I don't think Edith would mind, under the circumstances."
"Here's half a dozen energy bars," Joshua says, adding those to the pile. Several others contribute the few remaining snacks they have. Leslie packs the supplies for the expedition in her copious shoulder bag.
"Aahhh!" cries the first businessman suddenly, breaking through the last barrier of snow. "Success!"
The passengers gather to look at the stark moonlit landscape at the end of the passage. Against the pervading whiteness, the nearby tree line shows black.
"Are we all set? I have the flashlight and the flare," Leslie says, ready to go.
Brad looks wistfully at the group departing. Kyle pats his friend's shoulder. "Don't worry, dude. We'll stay and keep you company."
Karen notices Kimble's concern about leaving the injured. "I'll watch over Edith and change the bandages, Larry. You go and get us help." She smiles encouragingly.
Kimble nods and turns to his group of ten. Besides himself and Leslie, there are the two Japanese businessmen, the bearded man, Walkman dude, cell phone girl and three tourists. Sixteen passengers have opted to remain behind on the bus.
No longer feeling like strangers to one another, the travelers reach out and hug those who are leaving. Leslie is the first out the window, followed by the bearded man.
"Stay close," Kimble says, helping the cell phone girl up into the passage.
OUTSIDE THE BUS
Wading hip-deep in snow, the group emerges from the buried bus.
The wind whips the surface of the snow like white sand into their faces.
"I didn't think it would be so windy out here!" chokes the cell phone girl.
"Do you want to go back?" Kimble shouts.
Seeing the others gamely making for the trees, she shakes her head.
The narrow ledge they are on ends at the tree line, beyond which the mountain rises sharply. Here and there bare rocks just out from between the evergreens.
THE FOREST
The tall pines provide a measure of cover for the freezing party.
"I'm so glad to get out of the wind!" a blonde woman tourist says, her teeth chattering.
"We need to move quickly and find deadwood and kindling. Anything dry that will burn," Kimble instructs. "And keep in sight of the others!"
They spread out, pushing aside the heavy lower branches, looking for fallen limbs and twigs. Above them the wind soughs oppressively through the tops of the pines.
"I think I found something!" the Walkman dude shouts. "I'm not sure-my glasses are frosted."
"Bring it over," Kimble says.
"I can't. It's a cave!" he cries, standing at the snow-filled entrance.
The others bring what firewood they have gathered and join him. In a few moments they have cleared away the drifted snow, revealing an abandoned animal den of moderate size.
THE CAVE
"Thank God," Leslie says, ducking and entering the cave. "It may be dirty, but it's a sight warmer than the woods." Relieved, the party follows her in.
"We wouldn't have lasted long out there," a portly tourist states, brushing snow from his pants, "let alone been able to set a flare higher up."
"What were we thinking!" the other woman tourist agrees, hugging her shivering companion.
"My eyeballs were freezing to my eyelids!" the cell phone girl admits, stamping her feet to get the circulation going.
Kimble and the two businessmen have begun to lay a fire by the cave entrance.
"Are we all here and accounted for?" Leslie asks. "Where's that guy with the beard?"
They look around and realize he is not with them.
"The ground rules are that we stick together," Kimble says, unable to hide his concern.
"Wow, do you think he headed for the road on his own?" the Walkman dude wonders.
"Alright, I've got the flashlight, Ill go after him," Leslie volunteers. "...Just as soon as we've got the fire started." She hands Kimble her cigarette lighter.
Attention turns to the swirl of smoke issuing from the dried leaves and pine needles Kimble is using for kindling. A flame catches. The businessmen feed it with small twigs.
Kimble picks up a branch, peels back the damp bark and adds it to the fire. "We'll need more logs, bigger ones. These won't last long," he observes.
Suddenly the bearded man appears, giant-like, in the cave entrance. His arms are piled with as many logs as he can carry.
They stare in amazement. Then the portly tourist applauds. For the first time since the crash there is a noticeable easing of tension.
THE CAVE - 15 MINUTES LATER
A good fire is blazing. The travelers have found various comfortable spots around it and are thawing their numbed feet and hands. The food has been divided between them and Kimble is melting snow in the loaf pan.
"Water won't boil at high altitudes," he says, "but this will warm our insides." He offers the pan to Leslie. "Careful, it's hot."
Leslie takes a slow sip and passes it on. The firelight casts a ruddy glow over the group and causes the shadows to leap behind them. "We should introduce ourselves," she suggests, "and maybe share why we came on this trip. I'll start-Leslie Grunheim, private investigator. I was hired to track down an alimony absconder and was on my way to Steamboat Springs to meet with an informant this evening." She sighs ruefully. "Unfortunately, he'll be long gone by the time I can get there."
"You hunt people?" the Walkman dude asks, savoring his portion of Edith's banana bread.
"Yes-sleazeballs," Leslie answers forthrightly. She glances enquiringly at the two businessmen next to her.
They bow from the waist. "Hiroshi Matsushita, from Akita," says the first.
"Genichi Yamasuki," the other smiles.
"We are in USA for hotel management seminar," Hiroshi supplies. "It begins tomorrow morning. But I think we arrive very late!" He grins good-naturedly.
"Dick Yost," the portly tourist says in turn. "I thought coming to the mountains would be the perfect way to get over my recent divorce. Now all I want is to make it back to Wichita!"
The cell phone girl holds onto the pan and lets the steam thaw her pinched face. Her eyes are reddened. "Valerie Fields. My mother was just diagnosed with cancer. It's untreatable. I left classes at CSU to be with her."
"Wow," the Walkman dude says, commiserating. "You know, I've taken the bus to Steamboat a couple times and nothing like this has ever happened before. My name is Willis Vedderline," he adds.
"This has been the worst vacation of our lives," the blonde woman tourist shares. "I'm Marsha Morrison, and my life partner Cathy Addams. We were supposed to have gone to Salt Lake City but our travel agent talked us into a ski package instead." She pauses and looks at Kimble. "I gather you work at a ski resort, Mr. Sherman?"
"I'm hoping to find work at one," Kimble amends, adding a branch to the fire.
Everyone turns expectantly to the last person in the circle, the bearded man.
"Mark Bertolli. My wife gave birth to twins yesterday in Steamboat and I've been trying my utmost to reach her, and them," Bertolli explains fervently.
The party stares into the flames in silence, absorbing their various predicaments. Kimble clasps the St. Christopher medal he is wearing.
"I'm not normally a religious man," Yost says after a long moment. "If I have any beliefs at all, they're New Age. But I think this would be a good time to pray."
"I'm Roman Catholic," Bertolli says. "I'd be happy to join you." He holds out his hands to those on either side of him. Kimble accepts one.
"We're Presbyterian," Cathy says in a soft voice, accepting the other.
Valerie links hands with Willis. "I don't really know what I am. Do you?"
"Jedi, I guess," Willis says.
Leslie reaches for Hiroshi's palm. "I'm Jewish, and I'm sure there's a prayer for this, but I can't think of it."
Hiroshi bows again. "Shinto."
"Buddhist," smiles Genichi, completing the prayer circle.
Yost closes his eyes and leads off. "Well, Heavenly Parent, we're going to need help to get out of this mess. Send someone to find us. And make it soon! There are injured people in the bus and many of us have loved ones...who are depending on our safe arrival... " Despite himself, he clams up with emotion and is unable to finish.
Kimble continues for him, reciting from memory the St. Christopher prayer. "Shelter these, dear Lord, who bear my company from every evil and calamity. Guide all travelers safely home, even as you carried God's own son. Amen."
A log settles in the fire, sending a spray of sparks up to the roof of the cave and into the freezing night.
Kimble stands, pulling on his hat. "I'm going out to set the flare," he announces decisively. "It's our only chance that someone will see us before morning-and that's longer than some of us can wait."
Surprised and uneasy, but recognizing the truth of Kimble's statement, the group defers to his presumed experience.
Bertolli rises, placing a hand on Kimble's back. "Don't take any unnecessary risks on our account. And come back if you can't make it."
"Be careful, Larry," Marsha says. "Godspeed."
"Here's the flare," Leslie says, "and the flashlight."
Kimble zips the flare inside his jacket, but rejects the flashlight. "There's moon enough to see by, and I'll need both hands for climbing." He steps past the fire and stands in the entrance. "I've got to go now, while I'm still warm."
"Hey, Doc!" Willis calls affectionately.
Kimble turns, startled at the nickname.
"You can have my gloves. They're warmer than yours."
Kimble smiles and accepts them. "Thanks, Willis. That will help." Then he is gone into the night.
"Mr. Sherman a brave man," says Hiroshi quietly.
ROUTE 14, WESTERN APPROACH - HIGHWAY PATROL CAR
A Highway Patrol car is ascending a lonely stretch of road. There are no other headlights coming or going. The officer picks up his car radio. The signal is thin and there is a great deal of interference.
"This is Unit 554...Mulligan... Road conditions...good out of Gould... No sign of the...missing bus... No stalled vehicles or stranded... motorists to report."
Mulligan glances along both shoulders of the road as he drives.
"...Copy, Mulligan," comes the reply.
THE MOUNTAINSIDE
Kimble is climbing the steep slope with difficulty, relying on tree trunk holds to keep himself from slipping. He searches ahead for a clearing in which to place the flare. The moon casts shadows everywhere. There seems to be nothing above him but forest.
In his ears, his own breathing seems amplified. He can hear his heart beating more slowly. As Kimble loses sensation in his feet, he becomes more clumsy. Suddenly, he trips and slides backwards through the snow, tumbling over. His hat is knocked off and is lost down the mountainside. Kimble's arms flail and catch an exposed root, breaking his fall. He hangs for a few seconds, then pulls himself to his feet. He is shivering all over.
"For the home team," he says, and begins to climb again.
ROUTE 14, ROADBLOCK
Mulligan pulls over at the road block. He gets out of his car and approaches the row of orange hazard reflectors. Strung between them is a sign reading:
WARNING! AVALANCHE AREA!
NO-THRU TRAFFIC BEYOND THIS POINT
He moves the sign aside and returns to his car, driving past. He stops again, gets out of the car and walks back to the sign, returning it to it's original position across the road.
Back in the car, Mulligan turns up the heater. "Man it is cold tonight!" he whistles, flexing his gloved fingers. "If you're out there," he adds, driving into the blackness, "I pity you."
THE MOUNTAINSIDE
Kimble's eyebrows are collecting ice and his eyes have glazed over. His breathing is labored. The combination of low oxygen in the high altitude and the sub-zero temperature is reducing his ability to think clearly. He stops, bows his head, then pats his jacket to be sure the flare is still there.
Looking up again, he scans the forest ahead of him. His gaze fixes on a gap in the trees. He heads for it, combating the drifts. As he comes closer, he sees it is a rocky promontory-an ideal place to set the flare. But even as Kimble attempts to put on speed, his frozen body resists his command. He collapses, sinking motionless into the snow.
After a long moment, Kimble wills himself to continue, crawling forward on his belly. He reaches the rock base, only to find he can no longer bend his fingers to pull himself up. In his ears he hears the lengthening pause between each heartbeat.
Determined, Kimble inches his body along, using his hips and shoulders for leverage. But the higher he gets, the more he comes into the open, and exposure to the wind. The swirling snow is blinding, forcing Kimble to shield his head with his arm. He lies still in this position, collecting his strength.
The moaning of the wind seems to recede and in its place a warm glow envelops him. He relaxes and melts into the warmth.
"Richard, you are not home yet."
Kimble tries to open his eyes to see who is speaking, but they will not obey. The golden glow grows brighter, and then at once he knows who is with him.
"Helen..." Kimble's lips move, but the sound is barely audible.
"A little further. Only a little further," she says, gazing beyond him. "You are nearly there."
Kimble struggles onto his knees. His eyes open. He sees the light, but it is some distance away. He blinks and focuses. The light is moving.
Suddenly he grasps the situation and attempts to shout, emitting a hoarse croak. His hands tug futilely at the zipper to his jacket, unable to open it. Desperately Kimble reaches underneath the jacket, fumbling for the flare.
The light moves off.
"No!" Kimble cries frantically. Then he has the flare in his hand. He snaps off the top. It sputters to life.
ROUTE 14, CAMERON PASS
Officer Mulligan is heading back to the patrol car with his searchlight. Out of the corner of his eye he senses something bright against the darkness. He turns, then immediately runs to the edge of the road.
Partway down the mountain a ring of trees is glowing with an orange luminescence.
"By God, a flare!" he exclaims. "I don't believe it. They're down there-alive." He trains his searchlight in the direction of the glow and blinks it on and off several times.
"Hang on," Mulligan says, running back to the car. He gets on the radio. "This is Unit 554... I've got a distress signal...at Cameron Pass... Looks to be the missing bus...hit by the avalanche...Must be 600 feet down...Get SAR out here...ASAP! Do you copy?"
There is a pause. "...Copy, 554... SAR on the way."
DENVER - 9NEWS BROADCAST - 10:00 PM
"I'm Roger Leady with 9News at ten. This just in-an update on that avalanche reported earlier this evening at Cameron Pass. It now appears that a Budget Lines bus bound for Steamboat Springs was swept off the road and buried by the avalanche. The bus was carrying 27 people. Initial contact with survivors indicates that there has been 1 fatality and several passengers are in critical condition at this hour. Search and Rescue teams have been summoned to the area.
We are told that factors likely to hamper retrieval of the victims are: low nighttime visibility, subzero temperatures, instability of the snow mass and inaccessibility of the crash location.
Though medical assistance has not yet reached the victims, apparently there is a passenger with medical experience on board, who has been tending the injured. We will keep you posted as we receive further details on that bus crash at Cameron Pass."
CHICAGO, ILLINOIS - GERARD RESIDENCE, upstairs - midnight
On his way to bed, Philip Gerard passes by his daughter's bedroom and notices a light under the door. He stops and knocks on the door.
"Alex? Are you still awake-it's nearly midnight." He listens, but there is no answer. He knocks again. "Alex, if you're in there please open the door."
When there is still no response, Gerard says, "Running away is not the solution. Neither is going to bed angry. I'm going to stay here until you open this door!"
"Suit yourself," Alex retorts from her room.
Gerard visibly relaxes with the confirmation that his daughter has not snuck out of the house. "I think we can both own up to our imperfections, and I admit I've been a bit high-handed. You are quite right that you're old enough now to be taking more responsibility for your own life."
The door opens. Alex is in her pajamas. Gerard is relieved to see that she has not been packing a suitcase. "Does this mean you're staying?"
Alex shrugs and returns to her bed. "Sara promised that if I hung in with you until school's out, she'd take me on the vacation of my choice. I don't think she'd like my giving up after only a few weeks." She picks up the book she had been reading.
"I'm glad you respect Sara enough to take her advise," Gerard says with a touch of irony. He crosses the room and sits on the bed beside his daughter. "You know, it may seem like I eat, breathe and sleep my job, but the truth is...this house felt very empty without you."
"Face it, Dad, family is always going to be an afterthought for you."
"All the more reason why I need my daughter around," Gerard says, planting a kiss on the top of her head.
Alex relents and gives him a hug. Gerard holds her tight for a moment, then his beeper goes off. He looks at the pager display.
She sighs. "Answer it. I have to go to bed anyway. Good night, Dad."
"Goodnight, sweetheart." He gives her a quick kiss and goes to the door. Alex turns off her bedside lamp and snuggles under the covers. Gerard gently closes the door.
GERARD'S BEDROOM - MOMENTS LATER
Gerard is on the phone in his room. "This better be good, Art."
"I wouldn't have bothered you otherwise, Captain."
"So, what's up?"
"I was watching CNN and they carried a local feed from Denver about some avalanche in the Rockies and a buried bus and this guy on board who wasn't a doctor but was treating all the passengers and I thought, boy, does that sound like Kimble's M.O.!"
"There better be more to it than that, Art," Gerard says curtly.
"Yeah, yeah, get this-I made some calls and got Search and Rescue to release the name of the mystery guy, Larry Sherman, and he doesn't check out-nada, zip, no such person. What do you think of that?" Art asks confidently.
"Well, it isn't going to do us a hell of a lot of good, unless Search and Rescue held onto the guy after they pulled him out."
"But that's just the thing, Captain. They haven't pulled anyone out yet! They sent a team down with medical supplies and blankets and stuff, but they won't be able to retrieve anyone till morning."
Gerard stiffens with alertness. "Where'd you say this was-Denver?" He checks his watch. "I can just make it if I leave now." Gerard goes to his closet. He pulls out an overnight bag and throws it on the bed.
"There are no flights at this hour, Captain. You thinking of chartering a plane?" Art asks incredulously.
"What other choice do I have?" the Captain says, packing his things automatically. "And do me a favor."
"Name it."
"Eve and Eddie are off on that Ledbetter case and Vic's on vacation. I need you to stay and cover for me, Art. There's no point having Walston lose his pants when I can be out and back before I'm missed."
"But, with him all fired up about expenditures, how are you going to explain a private plane?"
"He'll sing a different tune when I've got Kimble in custody. Trust me on this. And Art...you did good. I won't forget it!" Gerard hangs up and goes into the bathroom to get his toilette supplies.
COLORADO - ROUTE 14 AT CAMERON PASS - 6:00 AM
Emergency vehicles are parked on either side of the avalanche. Officer Mulligan's patrol car waits at the road block on Route 14's western approach. More Highway Patrol cars and the 9News van are arrayed on the eastern approach. Although it is still dark, the area is brightly lit. Workers are setting up a medical tent and everyone is drinking coffee to keep warm in the bitter predawn temperatures.
Roger Leady stands in front of the camera, awaiting his cue.
"Good morning. This is Roger Leady with live coverage of the disaster at Cameron Pass. Last night an avalanche carried a Budget Lines bus some 600 feet down the mountain.
Several hours ago, a Search and Rescue rappelling team reached the 26 passengers with medical care, portable heaters, food and hot beverages. Amazingly, there were few life-threatening injuries, though most were suffering from hypothermia and trauma. Jake Whittier of Fort Collins expressed the views of his fellow travelers by
Jake Whittier greets rescue team
Broadcast image: Whittier greets rescue team
saying he was "overjoyed" to greet the rescuers. One passenger remains in critical condition, awaiting airlift by helicopter. The only fatality has been identified as bus driver, Daniel Moser, 41. Moser had an unblemished seven year career with Budget Lines and before that was employed with Denver Transit Authority. Family members have been notified."
Leady motions behind him as more vehicles arrive.
"As we speak, Ski Patrol is arriving at the scene to take charge of retrieval operations, which will begin at daybreak. We are standing by and will bring you live shots of the rescue as it unfolds. Now back to you in the studio..."
ROUTE 14, RUSTIC - GERARD'S RENTAL CAR - 6:30 AM
The first streak of purple tinges the skies as Gerard enters the small town of Rustic. He drives rapidly past the one gas station and the 'mom and pop' general store. He is on the cell phone with Colorado Highway Patrol.
"What's the status of that chopper I ordered?...Uh, hunh...What time is 'first light'?" Gerard glances at the clock on the dashboard and grits his teeth so that a vein shows on his temple.
"I understand rescue operations will be given priority, but I hope you can appreciate that my department has invested two years of it's time and resources toward bringing this fugitive in...Mmm hmm...Well, you do that."
Gerard turns the phone off and stares straight ahead, tense-shouldered, his hands clenching the steering wheel. The speedometer gradually arcs higher.
THE AVALANCHE AREA - DAYBREAK
As the sun breaks over the top of the mountains, Ski Patrol descends the slide area.
THE CAVE
"I am never, ever going to sleep again on the floor of a cave!" Leslie groans, waking. The party is wrapped in blankets and huddled around the heater supplied by Search and Rescue. The fire has died out. Bertolli rises and tamps down the embers.
"Ski Patrol is coming!" cries Willis suddenly from the cave entrance.
Bertolli joins him. "They're flagging the evacuation route."
Everyone hurries to the entrance to watch.
"You should let them take you first, with the injured and have that frostbite attended to properly," Leslie advises Kimble.
"I'll heal. It's the older passengers and children I'm worried about. And Leon. His blood glucose levels seemed to be dropping." Kimble, worn from his ordeal, speaks more to himself then to her.
"You sound just like a real doctor," Leslie kids him. "Maybe you're in the wrong profession."
"Hello, cavers! It's time to go down to the bus," a rescue worker says, arriving to escort them. "We've finished digging it out and have wedged the wheels, so there's no danger of additional weight causing the bus to slide. We also got the luggage compartment open."
This last news is met with glad cries.
The rescue worker grins. "If you want breakfast, I'd shake a leg. Two Jacks donated a box of their famous giant cinnamon rolls. They'll go fast."
There is a near stampede to break camp and get back to the bus.
ROUTE 14, EASTERN APPROACH - 30 MINUTES LATER
Gerard arrives at the avalanche site and pulls in beside the 9News van. He hops out of the car and hurriedly approaches the flurry of activity around the roped-off section.
"Keep out of the way of the rescuers!" a Highway Patrol officer cautions the news crew. They pull back in compliance.
Gerard marches up to the officer and flashes his badge. "Chicago Fugitive Task Force. I need to speak with passengers from the bus."
The officer nods in acknowledgement. "Ri-ight. We were notified." He looks vaguely around. "Ski Patrol is in charge of operations here. You'd have to..."
"Excuse me," interrupts a tough-looking woman in a Ski Patrol outfit. "Captain Gerard, is it?" They shake hands. "I'm the Incident Commander and I'm afraid we can't accommodate your request. To alarm the victims by announcing the possible presence of a murderer would only further jeopardize their health and recovery. IF your assumption is correct," she tells Gerard, putting a big emphasis on the IF, "this is hardly the time or place to expose an escaped felon. The last thing we need here is a hostage situation!"
"This fugitive does not take hostages," Gerard declares with total confidence.
"There's always a first time-isn't there, Captain," she rebuts caustically.
"Commander, I know my man," Gerard argues.
"And I know my job. The victims must be kept calm. After they have been safely evacuated from the crash site, they'll be processed at the medical tent and then transported to the hospital in Fort Collins for complete treatment and trauma counseling. I've advised their families to meet with them there-and I advise you to do the same, Captain."
"I'm not interested in your advise, Commander. I have a duty and I intend to perform it," the Captain says with annoyance. He tries to push past her, but she places a firm hand on his chest.
"I cannot stop you," the Commander warns with narrowed eyes, "but neither will I facilitate any disruption of our rescue operations." She turns swiftly on her heel. "Get those motorists out of here!" she barks to the Patrol officer.
The officer spins around, sees the approaching cars and hastens to replace the road block which Gerard left open. Right behind the cars are several media vans from various news services.
From overhead a whirring clatter announces the arrival of a helicopter. Excited, Gerard runs into the middle of the road to hail it. As it flies by, he sees with disappointment that it is an Air Life chopper. The helicopter continues over the avalanche area.
THE AVALANCHE AREA
Rescue workers around the bus are strapping luggage from the opened side compartment onto litters.
Within the bus Kimble and his fellow travelers await their turn for evacuation. They are finishing off the cinnamon rolls and completing their packing when they hear the Air Life helicopter arrive for Edith. Everyone gathers at the windows.
Ski Patrol on the ground at the flagged air-lift location radios the chopper. "Affirmative...We have one supine passenger...Over".
The helicopter hovers and a hoist is lowered. The team hooks it to Edith's litter. One of the patrol straddles the litter and waves to the pilot. The hoist is raised, twirling precariously high over the mountainside.
INSIDE THE BUS
The passengers anxiously watch Edith's ascent. "I'm glad that's not me," Karen murmurs.
"At least it'll be quick," Pamela observes. "Look at them-they're still climbing." She points to the skiers who are pulling the injured evacuees up the eastern slope of the avalanche to the road.
"I heard they'll be taking us all back to hospital in Fort Collins," Yost comments.
"Are you sure?" Bertolli asks worriedly. "I need to get to my wife and children in Steamboat Springs."
The two businessmen confer in rapid Japanese.
"Couldn't we rent a car or something?" Valerie suggests, thinking of her mother.
"I imagine they'll want us to stick around and fill out the necessary insurance paperwork and whatnot," Whittier opinions.
Kimble listens, deep in thought.
ROUTE 14, EASTERN APPROACH - MINUTES LATER
A shout goes up. The news crews scramble to get closer to the roped-off area. The first victim, Brad, is hauled over the cliff face. Gerard cannot get a word in edge-wise as various reporters throw questions over each other.
"Tell us about your ordeal!"
"How did you keep up your morale?"
"How did the driver die?"
"Do you hold Budget Lines responsible?"
"No questions please-these people are injured!" the Incident Commander orders. The ski team carries Brad to the medical tent, then returns for the next avalanche victim.
Pulled to safety
Passenger being pulled to safety
Gerard gets on his cellphone. "This is Captain Philip Gerard. Is that chopper on the way?...It's already left? Excellent!" He terminates the call and watches the rescue continue with a glint in his eye.
OUTSIDE THE MEDICAL TENT - AN HOUR LATER
The weather, which had been sunny, is turning overcast and the wind has picked up. The 9News crew has moved their equipment over to the medical tent. Roger Leady is interviewing Willis, who has just been brought in by Ski Patrol. Willis is cold all over from the long ride up the avalanche slope.
"Do you realize how incredibly lucky you were to survive a fall of that magnitude?" Leady asks into the microphone.
"Oh, absolutely! There were times I thought none of us would make it," Willis relates, faintly embarrassed but pleased to be in the limelight. "My worst fear was that no one would find us."
"And how were you found?" Leady presses. "It's impossible to see the bus from here."
"It was Doc-he climbed higher up and set a flare," Willis explains, shivering.
"Doc?" Leady repeats.
"I mean Mr. Sherman, Larry Sherman. It's him you should be interviewing, not me, " Willis says modestly.
"Thank you for sharing your story with our viewers," Leady says, signaling 'cut' to the camera crew. As Willis enters the tent, Leady regroups with his crew. "We've got to find Larry Sherman," he tells them, eager for a bigger story.
Gerard, listening in the background, has heard the entire conversation. Convinced that he is on the right track, he approaches the nearest Highway Patrol officer. "How many victims are still down there?"
"I wouldn't know. But they might," the officer replies, indicating several passengers who are sitting in a transport van drinking coffee. Gerard goes up to the van and taps on a window.
Leslie opens it partway. "Yes?"
Gerard holds his badge up to the window. "I have a few questions to ask you."
Leslie gives him a quizzical look. "Sure."
Gerard steps into the van and takes the seat in front of Leslie, turning to face her. Without preamble, he produces a photo from his interior coat pocket and shows it to her. "Do you recognize this man?"
"Larry? Of course."
"And where is this 'Larry' now?" Gerard pursues.
"With Ski Patrol, I presume. He went up the mountain with B Group. What do you want with him?"
"That's my business," Gerard replies.
"Tell me more, Captain, and perhaps I can help. I'm Leslie Grunheim, private investigator."
"You and I are in the same business, Ms. Grunheim," Gerard remarks shrewdly. "We both hunt people who have broken the law."
Leslie finds Gerard's cold and calculating manner offensive-and perhaps a little too reminiscent of her own not long ago. "Mr. Sherman has just saved a few lives; does that sound like your man?"
"Yes! Yes, it does!" Gerard exclaims.
"Then we are NOT in the same business," Leslie says icily, getting up. "Good day, Captain." She exits the van, looking for Kimble. Skirting between parked vehicles, Leslie achieves a vantage point from which she can see to the western slope of the avalanche.
ROUTE 14, WESTERN APPROACH
B Group is heading up the slide toward the western portion of Route 14. Officer Mulligan leaves his patrol car idling at the road block and crosses the highway to meet them.
"These are the evacuees who need to make Steamboat Springs this morning," the Ski Patrol leader says, stopping to catch his breath.
"We're still working on arranging their transport," Mulligan tells him. As the two men debate the situation, Kimble gazes to the east and notices Leslie Grunheim-unmistakable in her fur coat and red pantsuit.
ROUTE 14, EASTERN APPROACH
Leslie also spots Kimble and is about to wave a warning, when Gerard appears behind her.
"Would you mind directing me to B Group, Ms. Grunheim?" he asks.
Leslie freezes, then faces him.
ROUTE 14, WESTERN APPROACH
Kimble observes Leslie talking with a tall black man, notable for his office-style attire. Horror drains Kimble's face, as he realizes Gerard has caught up with him yet again.
ROUTE 14, EASTERN APPROACH
Leslie gestures in the direction of the medical tent. "Have you tried the medical tent?" she asks misleadingly.
Gerard is not fooled and looks beyond her to the small group on the western side of Route 14. He grabs the binoculars from a passing rescue worker and raises them to his eyes to get a better view.
ROUTE 14, WESTERN APPROACH
"You folks come along with me," Mulligan says, starting for the patrol car. The other travelers follow along. Kimble stands alone for an instant, looking trapped.
Officer Mulligan opens the rear door. "Now you set here and warm yourselves good while we sort this thing out." The two businessmen scoot willingly inside, followed by Valerie and Bertolli. "Everyone in okay?" Mulligan closes the door and opens the front. He reaches into the car and turns up the heater full blast. "You'll be toasty in no time," he smiles, holding the door accommodatingly for Kimble.
Kimble's focus is on Gerard, who is watching him through the binoculars.
ROUTE 14, EASTERN APPROACH
Gerard sees Kimble get into the patrol car. "They've got him!" he exalts, both thrilled and frustrated to find himself on the wrong side of the avalanche.
Leslie can only look on in helpless dismay.
ROUTE 14, WESTERN APPROACH
"I'll be back in a bit," Mulligan tells the passengers, closing the front door.
Kimble watches him walk away with Ski Patrol. In the backseat, the two businessmen open up their laptops, conversing busily in Japanese.
As the car idles, Kimble's gaze falls upon the keys in the ignition. He looks around him. There are no other Highway Patrol cars on this side of the avalanche, and theirs is the only vehicle near the road block. After a second's hesitation, he slides into the driver's seat.
ROUTE 14, THE DESCENT FROM CAMERON PASS - MINUTES LATER
The patrol car is taking the winding road down the mountain at top speed. As Kimble steers, the passengers look out the rear window at the summit receding in the distance.
"Maybe we make seminar after all!" Hiroshi exclaims delightedly, unfazed by Kimble's sudden haste.
"Are you really taking us to Steamboat Springs, Mr. Sherman," Valerie enquires hopefully.
Before Kimble can answer or explain himself, the car radio crackles into life. "Unit 554, this is Unit 520 at the Pass...Clarify your position, over."
There is an expectant silence in the car.
"Unit 554...clarify your..."
Kimble picks up the hand mike. "This is 554," he says authoritatively. "I have instructions to transport evacuees to...Steamboat, ASAP...Over."
The radio crackles again. "Roger that, 554...Over."
Kimble switches the radio off.
Bertolli notes Kimble's tense face in the rearview mirror. "Larry, you must be in a bigger hurry to get there than the rest of us combined!"
ROUTE 14, EASTERN APPROACH - MINUTES LATER
The irate Incident Commander receives the news from Ski Patrol. "What! He's taken four hostages!" she cries. She turns on Gerard. "Captain, I'm holding you personally responsible for their welfare! Furthermore..."
The rest of her speech is drowned by the arrival of the police helicopter. It settles on the highway a safe distance from the avalanche.
Gerard makes a dash for it and climbs in.
INSIDE THE HELICOPTER
It is an ambulance chopper, outfitted with a gurney and life-saving equipment. The pilot glances over at Gerard and shouts above the noise of the rotary blades, "My orders are to pick up a boy with a broken leg!"
Gerard's resolve does not waver for an instant. "You'll fly me across the avalanche first," he commands, fastening his seatbelt. "And be on the lookout for a Highway Patrol car heading west on Route 14."
The pilot nods, lifting the chopper into the air and veering west.
Gerard scans the terrain below as the helicopter flies well above the avalanche. Due to the road block and remote area, the highway beyond is almost empty of traffic. They soon see the patrol car.
"There he is!" Gerard shouts. "Follow him...get closer!"
The helicopter descends, swooping down and up again over the treetops as it closes in.
Gerard peers through the binoculars. "Kimble's got hostages, all right." He chuckles at the audacity of this latest blunder on the fugitive's part. "Your goose is not only cooked, Doctor, it's well done."
ARAPAHO NATIONAL FOREST
As Gerard continues to watch, a light snow begins to fall. The tree cover becomes more dense, intermittently obscuring the view of the highway.
"We're entering Arapaho National Forest," the pilot informs him.
"Well, stay on him...don't lose him!" Gerard urges.
"I'm doing my best, Captain."
"Get ahead of the vehicle and land," Gerard directs.
The pilot flies westward in a wide arc, then touches down in the center of the highway.
Gerard jumps out and runs clear of the chopper. Standing in the middle of the road, he draws his weapon, aiming it in the direction from which Kimble will come.
The patrol car rounds the bend. Brakes slam as the chopper is seen. The rear of the car fishtails in the freshly fallen snow.
Gerard levels his gun, shouting, "Everyone out of the car!"
The doors open and they all spill out, the two businessmen raising their hands nervously in the air.
Gerard ignores them and ducks his head inside the patrol car. In a frenzy he withdraws it. "Where's the driver?"
Bertolli taps himself on the chest. "I was driving," he supplies.
"I meant Kimble. Where-is-Richard-Kimble?" Gerard enunciates, as if they could not hear him.
The passengers continue to stare at him blankly. The two business men communicate in rapid Japanese, the words 'Steamboat Springs' figuring prominently.
Gerard reaches into his coat pocket and withdraws the photo of Kimble, holding it out. "This man...I saw him get in the car. Where is he?"
"That's Mr. Sherman," Valerie offers.
"I know who it is, Miss. Tell me where you last saw him."
Valerie points behind them.
"At Cameron Pass?" Gerard ask incredulously.
The snowfall is thickening and the travelers look longingly at the patrol car. Bertolli holds his hands in his armpits and shuffles his feet.
"You're all wasting my time," Gerard says crossly. "Alright then-get back in the car."
They gratefully return to the warm car. "How about a lift to Steamboat Springs, Officer?" Bertolli asks as he climbs in.
Gerard signals the helicopter pilot to go on without him. The pilot gives him a thumbs up and the chopper rises into the air. Gerard gets in beside Bertolli and takes the wheel. He quickly puts the car in reverse and turns it around, much to the disappointment of everyone else.
"Now-show me exactly where Kimble got out," Gerard demands.
They retrace their journey along Route 14, the windshield wipers brushing aside the accumulating snowflakes.
"It might have been anywhere along here," Bertolli remarks. It's hard to say, coming from this direction."
Gerard grits his teeth.
A moment later Valerie pipes up, "That's it, that little path there!" Gerard slows instantly. "No, sorry, the trees were thinner," Valerie apologizes meekly.
They continue on.
BY THE ROADSIDE - MINUTES LATER
By the side of the road is a snowy clearing. A man-sized set of footprints can be seen, hiking away from the highway.
As the patrol car passes the clearing, Gerard's voice is heard. "Think-was it a road, a trail, or did he just hightail it into the woods?"
"A trail," Valerie is heard replying.
"More like a road," Bertolli responds, distracting Gerard.
The businessmen contribute their views in Japanese.
The patrol car is lost from sight.
Snow falls steadily from a leaden sky. The camera closes in on Kimble's footprints, which gradually fill until they are indistinguishable from the whiteness around them.
THE END