Chapter Four

"Six days. It's been six days, and Cartman still hasn't shown up."

Kyle's complaint came from the other side of the room, beside the latter that lead to the entrance that kept the two of them from their freedom. Stan slowly let his head rise from where it hung, and shot a tired glance in his friend's direction. Kyle was leaned against the wall, arms holding his legs, head buried into his folded knees. His bright red hair was dry and unkempt, random strands sticking out in different directions. While the boys were able to find a pair of fresh clothes for Kyle (so he wouldn't have to hang around in his pajamas), they were unable to locate a hairbrush... or even toothbrushes. They'd checked almost everywhere; pulling all the boxes from the high shelves, looking in every inch of the tiny bathroom toward the back of the shelter, yet they still couldn't find toothbrushes. ...Or soap, for that matter. There were no showers in the bomb shelter. Stan was starting to doubt that surviving in the tiny structure with his Uncle – should a time come when the world would actually come to an end – would be the best choice.

"He'll come." Stan croaked, his tone laced with obvious exhaustion. "He has to come."

"What if we're wrong, Stan?" Kyle rasped from across the room. His head raised, his green eyes burning into Stan's blue ones. The look was serious, and... to Stan's surprise, worried. "What if Cartman really doesn't come back for us? What if this is it? What if he just leaves us here?!" The boy's eyes widened as he began to panic, his chest beginning to quickly heave out and in as he began to hyperventilate. "We'll have to run out of food eventually, Stan! We'll starve! We'll die together, alone in here, and no one will know about us!"

Stan watched Kyle as he quickly breathed, the panic on his face ceasing to melt away, as it usually did after a couple moments. His shoulders rose and fell with the pace of his chest – the small, brown leather jacket covering him still. "I don't want to die, Stan!" He gasped.

"Whoa, dude, c-calm down..." Stan's voice slightly trailed as he watched his best friend. "It's okay. Kyle, it's okay... Just breathe, dude. Just think about this for a moment."

Kyle's eyes lingered over Stan's for several moments, but finally, he managed to look away. He cast his gaze down upon the dirty, cold ground and began to collect himself, each breath he took getting deeper and slower. The expression of panic slowly began to leave his face, melting away, leaving him almost calm and collected once more. Slowly, his shoulders fell, and his back slumped against the wall again. He left one hand on his knee, the other in his lap, and heaved a sigh. His emerald-hued orbs disappeared behind his fallen eyelids.

"I'm sorry," His lips only barely moved to mumble the words. If Kyle had been any more quiet, Stan was certain he wouldn't have been able to hear him. "It's almost been a week since we've been in this shit-hole. I thought Cartman would have come here to do whatever the big part of his plan was sooner. The longer he waits... the more I feel like whatever he's planning will be more... umm..."

"Bad." Stan finished Kyle's sentence with a simple term, for lack of a better one. He couldn't quite grasp what the phrase was for Cartman's plan. Kyle was right. The longer Cartman waited to retrieve them, then that meant it was taking him just as long to set up whatever was going on. And if it took him six days – perhaps longer, it could lead to something big and horrible. Cartman wasn't lazy when it came to impressing people.

Stan tore his eyes away from Kyle's tired figure, and let himself look around the small area they had to themselves again. Empty, half-full, and completely packed boxes lay here and there – some on their sides, others completely upsidown with canned food spilling from their openings. There was one box, near the corner, that was full of unfolded clothes. It was the same box they had dug through to find something to wear for Kyle. Going through the clothing was a nightmare, to be honest. Most of the clothes were Jimbo's size, and the rest belonged to Ned, who was several times smaller than Kyle. They managed to find a jacket and pants small enough / large enough to fit him, but the goal of finding a shirt was failed. Under Kyle's zipped-up leather jacket, he wore his same old Terrance and Phillip top.

...That was one thing about Kyle that Stan was still somewhat surprised about. They were both teenagers, long since outgrown their addiction to cartoons and toys. Though, while Stan went to bed wearing a pair of red boxers, and sometimes a very loose black shirt, Kyle went to bed in his adult-sized Terrance and Phillip pajamas (Stan often questioned why they made cartoon pajamas for adults). There was a time where the three boys stayed the night at Kyle's house (a thing they actually hadn't done in years), and Stan had to try his hardest not to go wide-eyed at the familiar cartoon-decorated pajama outfit that Kyle was wearing when he walked into the room. Kyle's argument was that one could never get over Terrance and Phillip, and he'd always have some sort of apparel that he could wear to represent being a fan. Kenny went on to call him a Nerd, Cartman was rolling on the floor laughing while he called Kyle a fag, and... you get the idea.

The raven-haired teenager slowly rose onto his feet, stumbling lightly from exhaustion. He hadn't slept for a while... he was sure it had been days since. He didn't want to miss being rescued, and he definitely didn't want to miss the opportunity to kick Cartman's fat ass as soon as he got the chance.

Slowly, he began to make his way across the room, letting his tired eyes shift left and right as he looked around the small area again. There was a box, only several feet away from him, that was almost completely empty. Inside, there were cans of chicken-noodle soup with tabs on the top, so you could pull it open without a can-opener. Beside the cans, there were white plastic forks, held in a small plastic wrap. Most of them were broken, thanks to Jimbo's excellent sense of caution, though some of them weren't too badly damaged. A little bent... but all in one piece. It was only a few moments before Stan found himself gently falling to his knees beside the box. He shoved one of his shaking hands inside and retrieved one of the cans. After handing it to his other hand, he collected one of the forks, and then proceeded to open the can from it's tiny, slim tab.

"Hey, dude, can I have one?"

Kyle's voice, which had perked up a bit, sounded from behind Stan. The male looked over his shoulder to find the other male crawling over to him. The black-haired boy gave the red-haired boy a small smile and a nod, before reaching inside the box and handing Kyle his own can and fork. Kyle returned the smile and sat, crossing his legs before setting the can in his lap. "Thanks man." He mumbled.

"Don't mention it," Stan replied. He moved off of his knees and crossed his legs like Kyle did, leaning his back against his curly-haired friend. Keeping the can close to his chest, he slowly slipped the fork inside, and boredly began to play with the noodles. He raised his fork up and twirled a single noodle through the prongs, then watched as it slipped off of the plastic-wear, and fell back into the can. He gave a small sigh.

"I wish my Uncle packed a microwave."

"If that were even possible down here, I'd agree." Kyle replied. His voice sounded less panicked than it had minutes before, but now it sounded tired... just like Stan's. Stan stiffened as he felt Kyle's back lean into his own, the back of his head resting against his. There was a pause, and Stan could only imagine Kyle playing with the noodles on his fork in a bored gesture, before letting them slide past his lips. "God damn, I hate Cartman." The Jewish boy mumbled softly, knowing it was rude to talk with your mouth full. Not that Stan minded.

"I hate him too. Son of a bitch makes life difficult." The raven-haired boy sighed and leaned back into Kyle, raising his fork again to watch a couple noodles twirl through the prongs. "I wonder what it's like... to not have an insane fatass hiding ridiculous surprises and outrageous events at every turn..."

"'Hiding ridiculous surprises and outrageous events at every turn.'" Kyle repeated part of Stan's sentence, and then gave a light chuckle. "That last part sounded rather poetic."

"I'm just saying," Stan laughed lightly, too, after Kyle pointed out his phrasing. "I don't think it's normal to have a friend that's the main cause of nearly all the problems that you've had in your life. I could name at least forty things he's done to screw us over and put us in dangerous situations."

"I know," Kyle agreed. "Cartman sucks ass, dude. Other kids probably haven't been in the kinds of situations that we've been in before."

There was more silence. This time, Stan did actually take a bite of his cold soup, savoring the chicken taste, as the soft noodles and broth slipped down his throat. His eyes lowered to the can, and he let himself read the title 'South Park's Chicken Noodle Soup' over and over again. The fancy cursive writing was nicely done with black ink, against a solid yellow back-round. On the back of the can, the ingredients and calories, as well as some information about the company was labeled.

"...Do you think Kenny knows where we are?"

Stan looked away from the can, and nearly looked to Kyle when his friend asked the question. Did their other friend know where they are? Could they be sure? Stan hadn't thought about him at all the past six and a half days. Did Kenny know they were missing? Did Cartman let him in on his little secret? Was Kenny helping Cartman?

...It made sense. All Cartman had to do was offer Kenny a couple dollars to keep his mouth shut, and Kenny would do exactly that. Just for a couple of bucks, Kenny would let himself give less than two shits about Stan and Kyle. For just a couple of dollars, Kenny could let the thought of his friends completely slip from his mind, and he could continue on with life. Was that what their friendship was worth to Kenny? A couple of dollars?

...Then again. Stan did once sell the others out for an early-generation Ipod Nano... so he really didn't have any room to talk shit about Kenny in that sort of way, did he?

"Stan?" Kyle's voice sounded from behind Stan again, this time, a little concerned. Stan realized he hadn't answered Kyle... instead, slowly loosing himself in the possibilities of Cartman paying Kenny to either keep his mouth shut, or help him out in whatever big plan he had going on.

Stan shook his head, his hair rubbing against Kyle's. He stated his honest opinion. "I don't know. It's hard to even guess if Kenny knows where we are. Cartman could pay him to keep his mouth shut, if he did know."

"But do you think he's even searching for us?" Kyle asked. "If he went missing, we'd go search for him. Would he do the same for us?"

"I don't know, Kyle. Kenny isn't exactly the faithful, enthusiastic kid he was eight years ago." Stan mumbled. He took another fork-full of noodles to his mouth before continuing. "He's the biggest drug-addicted pervert in the school. If he's not getting high off of his parents' drugs, then he's probably screwing some chick."

"Or dude," Kyle spoke with a matter-of-fact voice.

"Or dude." Stan repeated. They had only recently found out that Kenny swung for both teams. Kyle and Stan took the news fine. Of 'course they were surprised. They knew that Kenny was screwing just about every teenage girl in the school. It was very obvious, with the looks he got in the hallways... and the noises they heard from the bathrooms during third period. They couldn't say they weren't at least a little bit surprised, when they walked into Kenny's house one day, to find Butters' topless body pinned under Kenny's figure on his couch. Unlike Kyle and Stan, however, Cartman decided that Kenny's new name was "Faggot" when he heard the news. He still calls Butters "Butters", but it's more often now that he refers to the smaller blonde as a fag or gay-wad.

"I wonder where are parents think we are..." Kyle thought out loud. His head had lifted off of Stan's, and he had gone back to eating. Stan had subconsciously began to only play with his food again, once more almost loosing himself in his own thoughts. The teenager pushed the image of Kenny and Butters out of his mind, and returned to the conversation he was having with his friend. He looked to his noddles again, raising the fork and slipping the first part of it into his mouth. He wished they had spoons... so they could eat the broth, too. But they couldn't find any spoons (not in the boxes they had opened, at least), so forks would have to work.

"Like I said last week, Kyle... They probably think we're off on some big adventure again. I wouldn't be surprised if they tried calling people in Afghanistan or Peru to locate us." Stan swallowed his mouthful of noodles before he spoke, naming off only a couple of places that held some of their adventures. They had a lot of memorable times as children... though, lately, they hadn't done many extreme things. No trips to different states, countries, or even planets. No plans to break anyone out of prison, or save any Holiday Mascot from certain destruction. And certainly no visits to Imagination Land... which Stan really wanted to go back to... though it was a secret he didn't tell anyone. Life has been pretty boring for them lately. Still, he knew their parents still wouldn't be surprised if they were on some crazy adventure.

"You're right. They're probably just waiting for us to get out of whatever thing we're doing and come home." Kyle sighed. There was the sound of his can setting against the stone floor. Stan felt Kyle's body lift away from his back, and listened as Kyle's footsteps began to grow further from him. Setting down his own can, Stan abandoned his unfinished food and hoisted himself to his feet, stiffling a small yawn before turning to Kyle. The normally green-hatted boy stood before the latter, his hands on his hips as he stared up toward the entrance of the bomb-shelter.

"There's got to be another way out of here." Kyle said, speaking more to himself than to anyone. Stan raised an eyebrow and watched as Kyle studied the entrance.

"No... No, I don't think so, dude. I know my Uncle Jimbo. He doesn't usually have surprises... especially not hidden ones. If there was another way out of here..." Stan paused his sentence and looked around, making sure he was correct. "...it'd be more noticeable."

"We have to get out of here, Stan. Cartman is taking too long. And I am just about ready to kill for a change of clean clothes, and a shower." Kyle turned to look back at Stan, and then looked to the box of cans at his friend's feet. "...And a hot meal, too. I don't like living off of cans of cold chicken-noodle soup, and peaches."

Stan looked down to the box himself, and gave a small huff. He lightly kicked the box, nudging it just a little ways away. Inside, the few cans that were left rolled around and bumped into each other, making a light clashing sound. "I'm sure my Uncle Jimbo packed different foods," He stated. "I can't imagine him just surviving off of chicken-noodle soup and peaches. He isn't that kind of person."

"You know what I could really go for?" Kyle asked.

"What?" Stan asked back.

"Coffee."

"Coffee?"

"Yes, coffee." There was a yawn. "If I'm honest, I really wouldn't mind a cup of Mr. Tweak's coffee. I mean, I know it tasted like sewage, but it really did put some energy in whoever drank it."

"'Fresh Coffee' my ass." Stan muttered, remembering Tweek's father, and how he was always commenting on how fresh and good his coffee was, with all the "peaceful" metaphors that drove everyone who heard them insane. "Anyway, Kyle, you don't need coffee. Look around. This place is really small. What would you need the energy for, anyway?"

"I don't know. I just don't like feeling tired all the time." Kyle replied. "I mean, all we can do is sit around. I haven't gone on a walk... or even ran in almost an entire week. I miss gym period in school. I hate our gym teacher, but God-damn, getting exercise every day was a lot better than just sitting around and doing nothing."

"Yeah, I guess I know what you mean." Stan sighed. His head tilted up, and he looked around again, letting his eyes scan over the shelves full of boxes. "...Maybe Uncle Jimbo has some instant-coffee in here somewhere. We can just add water. It'd be cold... and black, but it's better than nothing, right?"

He didn't wait for an answer before he made his way to one of the shelves that surrounded the room. He gently lifted onto his tip-toes as he snagged one of the boxes on the third shelf from the top. Though he was very tall, the top shelf was too high for him to reach. The boys had yet to discover just what exactly lay in the boxes on those high shelves.

Stan rested back onto his heels again, and gently set the box onto the ground. Kneeling down, he began to scratch at the tape on the sides of the box with his fingernails in an attempt to get it open. He had nothing sharp to just cut the tape with. It had been like that with every box he had opened so far.

There was the sound of footsteps, and not a moment later, Kyle was at Stan's side, reaching up to grab a box of his own. "Though that sounds disgusting, I guess it's worth a look." He said. "We've gone through most of the boxes, but not all of them. I'm actually really curious to see what's in those boxes on the top shelves."

"Yeah. Too bad we can't reach them." Stan mumbled. He continued to pry the tape from the box, his nails making a scratching noise against the paper material. He continued to work, prying and peeling the tape from the box. He didn't notice Kyle set down his own box, and then stand again, becoming silent as he thought. He only noticed Kyle's sudden change, when the Jewish boy grabbed Stan's arm and pulled him up off the ground. Stan sent a look toward Kyle's hand, before up at Kyle. He raised his eyebrow with a silent question.

"Get on my shoulders," Kyle stated simply.

Stan's eyes widened a little. "Uh... what?"

"Get on my shoulders!" Kyle repeated. He slightly turned and pointed toward the top shelf closest to them. "We can reach the top shelf if we increase our height. I can hold you up, while you snag one of the boxes. It'll be a piece of cake, dude!"

"I don't know..." Stan looked up toward the shelf, and then at Kyle's hand again, which had yet to let go of Stan's arm. He reached up with his free hand to scratch the back of his neck. "I mean, it's a great idea and all, but..." He looked at the ground, and gave a nervous swallow. "Falling and smashing my head against a hard floor doesn't exactly seem like fun..."

Kyle scoffed. "Fine. If you're too chicken to climb up on my shoulders, then I'll just climb on yours. ...That should work better, anyway. I'm smaller than you, and you're heavier than me," He finally let go of Stan's arm, but instead, grabbed Stan's shoulders and lightly pushed down. "Here, get on your knees so I can climb on."

"Kyle!" Stan gasped. He looked up at Kyle, and searched his emerald eyes for a hint of sarcasm. But all he found was hope and seriousness in Kyle's gaze. He was completely serious. Stan swallowed again. "I don't think your head hitting the ground will be very fun either, dude. I don't want to be trapped in here with a dead body."

"Oh, come on!" Kyle groaned. "I'm not going to get hurt. I trust you not to drop me, dude. And even if you did, I'd just flip myself over and not hit my head against anything. It'll be fine." Kyle lightly frowned. "Come on, Stan. I really want to get to those boxes. Just... get on your knees really quick, and let me climb on."

Stan winced as he felt Kyle's grip tighten on his shoulders. He looked up toward the top shelf, and then to the floor again. This could end badly. ...Then again, they'd done way crazier stuff before. If he just stood really still, he wouldn't drop Kyle. His friend was right. It'd be easy, and in the end, they'd discover what was in the boxes on the shelves.

Stan looked up to Kyle, and nodded. "Okay, Kyle." He agreed.

"Sweet!" Kyle lightly cheered, and gave the grin he usually showed when he was happy for excited. This caused Stan to also grin. He lightly laughed, and kneeled down when he felt Kyle's hands press against his shoulders again. Kyle made his way behind Stan, and the raven-haired boy stiffened as he felt the red-haired boy begin to climb over him. It wasn't long before the smaller teenager's legs draped over Stan's shoulders, and he sat comfortably against Stan's back. He gave a very gentle kick to Stan's chest with the back of his heel. "Okay, you can stand up now. Don't drop me."

Stan began to stand, very slowly. He kept his hands firmly pressed against Kyle's thighs as he began to rise into the air. The both of them were a bit wobbly at first – Stan not being used to having someone on his shoulders, and Kyle not used to being off of the ground. But after a couple seconds after Stan stood, the two began to feel more confident. Stan moved closer to the top shelf, and Kyle practically leaned against it as he moved to grab one of the boxes. Stan patiently waited, staring down at the ground as he struggled to get used to Kyle's weight.

"Okay, I have one of the boxes. ...It's really heavy though, so be careful. Just back away from the shelf and kneel down."

"Okay." Stan obeyed Kyle's request and began to step away from the shelf. He let his head tilt upward as he backed away, watching the shelf slowly grow smaller as his feet moved. He gave a light chuckle and looked up to Kyle, who had apparently been staring right back at him. There was a small smile on his face, and he gave a light laugh. "Okay dude, that's enough. You can kneel now. We're far enough away from the shelf."

"Awh, don't you like being up this high?" Stan asked. He gave a teasing smirk as he stopped backing away. Kyle's smile faded, and his face slightly hid behind the box in his arms.

"Ha... ha... ha-ha. Very funny, Stan. N-Now seriously, let me down."

"But you're having so much fun!" Stan laughed at Kyle's reaction, and began to walk around the room. Kyle gasped and tightened his legs against Stan's head as he raven-haired teen began to walk.

"N-No, no! Stan! Seriously, dude! Let me down right now!" He gasped. "Come on, dude! Stop it!"

Stan continued to walk circles around the room, stealing more and more glances up toward Kyle as he walked. Eventually, he didn't look at where he was going as he took his steps, just staring up at Kyle instead, watching his reaction grow more worried. Kyle went from looking around, to looking to the box, and then to Stan again. He looked panicked, but at the same time, he looked slightly... amused. Like he was enjoying being carried around on the boy's shoulders.

"Come on, Stan! Let me down!"

"No way, dude. This is too much fun."

"Uhh... Stan..."

"Kyle, just enjoy being up there! I can tell you like-"

"Stan, watch out!"

Suddenly, Stan felt the front of his foot slam against the side of a heavy, solid box. He gave a loud gasp as his body began to fly forward. Out of instinct, he let go of Kyle's legs and moved his hands out in front of him, planning to catch himself as he hit the ground. Above him, he could hear Kyle yell. His legs slipped, and he felt the male roll backward. Stan quickly hit the ground, his body hitting the floor with a small thud. Beside him, the heavy box hit the ground with a much louder thud-like noise. It landed only one or two inches away from Stan's face. The boy stared at the box with wide eyes, his chest deeply rising up and down as he tried to overcome his brief panic attack. He continued to stare at the box. If the box had moved any closer to him, his head would have been reduced to a bloody pancake. He pictured the image, and nearly shuddered with disgust.

...Then, the realization kicked in. With a soft gasp, he tried to lift himself. He had to find Kyle! But he didn't get too far, before he noticed the weight pressing against his back. Stan slowly turned his head to the other side, and found himself staring into Kyle's wide green eyes. His head was draped over Stan's shoulder, and he too was overcoming the brief panic attack.

Stan gave a very short, nervous laugh, continuing to breathe deeply. "Uhm... Y-You okay, dude?"

"I-I'm fine..." Kyle stammered. "J-Just... just fine."

"A-Are you sure?" Stan asked. Sudden guilt began to sink into him. "I am so sorry, dude. You were right. I should have stopped when you told me to. I could have hurt you. Oh God, Kyle, I'm-... Kyle?"

Stan was interrupted by the sudden fit of laughter from the red-headed boy. The laugh was soft, at first. Like the nervous chuckle Stan had. But it quickly grew into something louder, and deeper. Kyle's eyes snapped shut as he laughed, his lips quivering. Stan raised an eyebrow in confusion.

"Kyle?"

"Oh.. My... God, Stan! Y-You should see the look on your face!" Kyle laughed loudly. Stan shifted uncomfortably. "You looked so damn concerned... that was hilarious. Oh my fucking God..."

Stan's jaw dropped slightly. Okay, so Kyle was fine. That was good. He wasn't in any sort of harm. ...And he found Stan's worry for him extremely amusing. His face? Stan raised his hand and felt his face... just to make sure nothing was on it... or nothing happened to it in the fall. He hadn't hit his head, and thank God, his face felt normal. ...So what the Hell?

Kyle slid off of Stan and sat up, crossing his legs and holding his stomach with his hands. His head tilted downward, the huge grin ceasing to leave his lips. His chest shook as he loudly laughed, his voice echoing off of the walls of the bomb-shelter. Stan lifted himself off the ground and into his own sitting position, and continued to watch Kyle with a confused expression.

"Kyle..."

"I-I'm sorry, I'm sorry." Kyle wheezed lightly as he tried to control his laughter. He covered his face with his hands and began to take deep breaths. He slowly began to calm down, but still lightly chuckled as he finally took his hands away from his face again. He looked up to Stan, his green eyes glinting with amusement.

Stan shook his head. "Look, Kyle, I'm sorry..." He almost whispered as he spoke, absolute guilt beginning to take over all of his feelings. "You told me to stop, and I didn't stop. I almost dropped you. I'm sorry."

Kyle's chuckles faded, but there was still a smile left on his face. Stan gasped as the Jewish boy leaned forward and snatched Stan into his arms. Their chests crashed together, and Stan stiffened as he felt Kyle's arms tighten around him. The red-head's chin rested atop of his shoulder.

"Umm...Kyle?" Stan whispered.

There was a light chuckle, and then a sigh.

"I'm fine, Stan."