WOW! I had no idea the NT fandom was this big! Thank you all for your reviews, it really gives you a boost. And now, we proceed...
Part 2
"It's no use." Phil shook his head, snapped the notebook shut. "Little shit installed something new that I can't bypass. I can't even access his old program."
Ian turned around, took out his frustration on the side of a truck. Eyeing the new dent with anger, he wondered how he would explain any of this to the guy who rented them the trucks and the equipment. If we ever get out of here.
"So, are we just going to stand here and wait until we rot?" Powell demanded. The others quickly agreed and Ian had to think of a smart thing to say fast before a double mutiny occurred.
"Can't we use the truck's radio?" Phil suggested. He received a thwack on the back of the head.
"People will start asking questions if we get search-and-rescued," Shaw explained calmly, dangerously.
"We could tell them we got separated in the storm," Shippen stated.
"No," Ian said, his voice firm. "Crack that program, Phil." Phil blinked, started to protest, but Ian spoke over his voice smoothly. "Your life depends on it."
-
Ben avoided plunging into the snow head-first with the thought that the greatest legacy of America's survival lay in his hands. So was Riley Poole's life.
Riley was barely conscious, but stumbled on. Ben's grip on his arm was reassuring, but it meant he couldn't stuff his hand in his pocket. He could see his nails – they were as white as the storm they trudged on in.
The blizzard was raging. Ben hoped against hope that they'd find shelter, an abandoned shed, a rock… anything. He could feel Riley's awareness slipping behind him. They needed to keep moving. Producing heat. As soon as they stopped, they would freeze. A rogue thought in his head wondered whether Ian had also gone through this… safely tucked away inside a snow truck. A wave of anger opened up a new source of energy, and he surged forwards.
Riley felt Ben move faster. It alerted him for a second, then he slipped back into his semi-conscious state. His body had gone dead with cold.
Ben stumbled and involuntarily let go of Riley's arm. Without the support, Riley sat back hard into the snow, surprise finally dragging him out of his mind.
"Ben?" he shouted, trying to raise his voice above the storm. He couldn't hear himself. He couldn't tell if it was because of the raging wind or if his voice had vanished along with Ben. It was no use. One slip, one stumble – Ben let go and now he was gone.
"Ben!" He heard his voice crack. It was breathy, small, but it was there.
Still no response. Riley crawled around for a few seconds, finally got to his feet. Was the storm dying down? He couldn't tell. He felt dizzy, giddy. He stood still for a few seconds, tried to gather his mind and get his thoughts in order. Racking his brain for the emergency instructions that had been drilled into him, he closed his eyes, breathed on his fingers. He was so cold, his breath barely created a faint mist.
"BEN." He managed a call. He tried again and again, warming his voice up, finally managing a bellow. The wind was definitely less – he could hear himself as he stomped around despite the distraught messages his body sent him.
"BEN! BEN! BENJAMIN FRANKLIN GATES!" Feeling ridiculously chuffed with himself, he scoured the snow just ahead of him for any indication of footprints. The storm lessened, and suddenly Riley looked up and saw blue sky. For a few seconds he stood giddily in awe of the amazing view, then realized finding Ben would be much easier to find like this.
-
Ben raised his head. He'd slipped and fallen into the snow, and stayed there, praying that Riley would do the same. The storm was gone, and so was Riley.
Ben silently cursed, then sat up, surveyed the scene. A little way off, slight, powder-covered indentations in the snow showed where he had last seen Riley.
"Riley!" Could he be under the snow? Surely it hadn't the snow hadn't been that heavy?
He struggled to his feet to investigate the marks. He couldn't tell what had happened, but Riley definitely walked away unscathed.
He looked up, around. Somehow, they'd ended up in a valley surrounded by craggy peaks. He could see footsteps tracing up a hill, following a strange, circular pattern, as if Riley had stumbled along blindly. He couldn't be far off. Ben staggered up the hill, hoping to see Riley just over the top. He reached the apex, only to see that in front of him, a cloud had settled.
-
Riley cursed himself for not staying where he was. It must have been adrenaline fueling him ahead. And now he'd lost Ben. Damnit.
He paused, placed his cold hands on his knees as he caught his breath. His watch stated that he'd been walking for at least three hours since he'd lost Ben.
He was cold. He was so cold. His brain had cleared and he could think properly, but he wanted to kick himself. He could be walking in circles in this fog. If only he'd stayed put and not followed his adrenaline rush…
He straightened up, pushed ahead. If he stopped now, his core temperature would drop without him noticing. He needed to carry on. There's got to be some place in this godforsaken land where he could stop. Sooner or later, he'd stumble onto an Inuit village or some inhabited area. Then he could get help.
Riley searched his pockets for anything with sugar for the fiftieth time. Nothing. The first time, he'd found a packet of sugar in his wallet – he had no idea how it got there – but it was down his throat, stinging, before he could think twice about it. Too bad it wore off so quickly. He needed more.
-
"Anything yet?" Ian questioned. He knew when to push, and when to be patient. Riley's laptop had passed through the hands of all four his men. Powell had suggested taking a sledgehammer to it, and Shaw had convinced him that it would only get them more lost than they already were. Thankfully, it was warm inside the trucks and they had enough emergency provision to last them a month.
"I've gotten past one wall, but the others are more intricate. I can't tell how many there are. Why would he have so much security on his own computer?" Phil had tried again, taking breaks to refresh his mind, but every time Riley's firewalls backed up, he saw red. Stupid dead kid has doomed us all…
Ian let out a frustrated sigh, stared out across the plain. The dark fog advanced threateningly, and he knew that soon it would engulf them. Even if they could crack the walls on the laptop, the fog would most likely swallow any signal they got. They needed to work faster.
"Give me that."
-
Ben followed Riley's tracks carefully, like a hunter. Sooner or later he'd find him. Hopefully sooner rather than later. Thank God the blizzard had stopped. It was easier to track when the snow wasn't moving.
It was dark inside the fog. Any trace of sky was swallowed up and he had to squint to see in front of his face. Silently cursing their luck, Ben pushed ahead.
-
Riley gradually noticed the light changing. He hurried on, pushing himself to the limit. Finally, he escaped the clutches of the fog, sank to his knees and looked up at the sky. He was exhausted. It was worse than staying awake for nearly four days straight, trying to hack into his college roommate's computer only because he challenged him. Riley had upped his defenses, accepted his challenge, and after eighty-two hours, seventeen minutes and nine seconds, he had cracked it and proclaimed victory. His friend never cracked Riley's systems.
Riley heaved a breath, stood up. In the distance, he saw color. He whooped in happiness, started towards it, then recognized it.
And froze.
-
"Ian."
"Hold on, I think I'm onto something here." Ian rubbed his top lip in concentration, didn't look up from the screen. He was close. He could feel it.
"Ian."
"I said give me a sec-" Suddenly Riley's wall's came down and blocked him. Ian cursed.
"What?" His expression changed at the awestruck face looking up at him from outside the truck. Powell turned, pointed towards the fog. Ian looked up, surprise written across his face.
A small speck had appeared from the fog. It was too dark to see what it was, but Ian could guess.
"How did they survive?" he said, not speaking to anyone in particular.
"It's only one. We can't tell who it is yet. But yes, someone's alive." Shaw came up from behind Powell, looked into the distance.
"Well, hoping it's the kid, let's roll out the welcome mat."
A/N: Alright, I've personally felt adrenaline take control of my body, so don't hassle me about Riley's strange acting. My idiot brother pushed me down a waterfall because I didn't want to jump down. Afterwards, I just wanted to get the hell as far away from the water as possible. I don't even know why. So it's plausible.
There is no way in hell that that entire clue came from the tiny circumference of the Meerschaum pipe (I know, it's spelt wrong, can anybody inform me of that?). For it to roll out that longass clue it must have had the circumference of a bottle of wine, maybe even more. Another strange mistake me and my friends canned over for at least an hour. Yes, it involved a bottle of wine.