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Part 3
Riley had no idea what to do.
He could go back into the fog, hide, and possibly die of starvation and hypothermia, or he could wait for the oncoming truck and be possibly shot.
He turned and ran.
He stumbled deeper, the running sapping at his last energy, finally tripping over his own feet and hitting the rock-hard snow face-first. Tears came on their own as he prayed, prayed that somewhere out there God would take pity on him and make them go away. Or make this horrible day better. Or just zap him right there and get it over with.
He heard a truck roar as it neared, stopped.
"Ben?"
Riley frowned into the snow. What? What's going on?
"Ben! Are you all right? Riley?"
Riley pretended to disappear. A sudden thought crossed his mind. Never again would he wish for the ground to swallow him.
They don't know who it is...
"It's okay! Are you all right? Are you hurt?" Definitely Ian. He's not alone. Two pairs of flashlights scoured the snow close by.
"There's definitely someone here," another voice said. Powell. "Look at the tracks."
Any second now, they would spot him.
"Oh God. Riley?"
He heard rushed footsteps as they crunched near, closer. A hand touched his shoulder.
"Riley. Can you hear me?"
"Yes." His voice came out as less than a whisper.
"Riley. Can you hear me? Are you all right?"
Riley gave up trying to speak, went limp. Exhaustion finally caught up with him. Strong hands rolled him over. He blinked as the flashlight shone in his eyes.
"He's alive, thank God. Get him to the truck. We have to get him warm."
The strong hands lifted him into the air. Riley felt himself go heavy, then blackness descended on him.
-
Ian frowned down at the kid as they returned to the other trucks. He was badly frozen, his fingers blue with cold. His 'wonderful bag of delightfuls' (as Riley called it) was gone as well as the SatNav he had been carrying. How had they survived? What had happened to his stuff? Millions of questions flitted through his mind, but Riley's cold, hard hands were still his major concern. He bent down, tried to shake him awake.
"Riley, wake up. Come on, you're safe now. Open your eyes."
Riley groaned. He was alive. But his fingers weren't neccesarily. And those were the parts they needed right now. Ian shifted, took both of Riley's hands. They were stiff and hard, heavy with numbness. In a panic, Ian thought that the kid had frostbite and they'd be stuck in the wilderness forever.
Powell glanced to the backseat. Ian had Riley's hands covered with his own.
"Frostbite?"
Ian glanced up, into Powell's uninterested face.
"No. Frostnip. Just need to warm him up slowly and he'll be fine."
"We have to be nice to him?" Shippen kept his eyes in front of him, not glancing back. Even with nothing in miles to hit, driving the truck was difficult and needed sheer concentration to keep from skidding.
"Just until he gets us out of here." Ian glanced back down at Riley's face, assured that the kid couldn't hear them. "Then we can dump him. He'll talk, and be a general hassle if we take him out of here."
"And what if he doesn't wake up?" Powell asked, still indifferent. Ian waited a beat before answering, looking down at the pale face on his lap.
"We leave him."
-
Riley lay as still as he could. His hands ached and burned as they thawed, but he couldn't risk opening his eyes or showing any pain on his face with them talking about what they'd to with him. They were lost. And had his stuff. Why they didn't use it baffled him. Are they seriously not that clued up?
If he didn't show signs of recovery soon, they'd dump him back out in the cold to die. He could feel heat return to his face. It burned and he knew they'd be able to see he was heating up. So it was now or never.
How was he supposed to wake up? He couldn't exactly open his eyes and say hello. Thankfully, a searing pain that felt like fire spread to his left hand and he couldn't suppress it. He winced, tried to pull his hands away from whatever was hurting him. He tugged weakly, and whatever was holding him lessened its grip but didn't let go.
"Ow." Riley's voice was a little more than a breath. He sucked in a lungful of air and tried again. "Ow." His voice stronger, but still just a whisper.
"Riley?"
"Ow." His voice grew as he struggled to break free. "Ow. Ouch. You're hurting me. Ouch. Ouch. Let go." His hands felt as if they were on fire. Finally, he opened his eyes and blinked, struggling to focus. When he did, he nearly had a heart attack.
His head was in Ian's lap, and Ian was cradling his hands, carefully using his body heat to warm them up.
Riley shrank away, tried to break free, but a hand pushed him down and stayed, resting on his shoulder.
"Careful," Powell said, leaning over from the front passenger seat. "Don't waste your energy."
Riley sent him a terrified, incredulous look, froze with horror. They wanted to kill him. They wanted to shoot his brains out, lock him in an underground ice prison and then blow it up, and here they were offering him comfort. He was beyond shock.
"What's going on?" he finally squeaked. "What are you doing?"
"What does it look like?" Shippen called from the front as Riley sat up, his hands still held captive by Ian. "We're rescuing you."
"Rescuing me?" Riley scoffed, tried to pull his hands free. "You want me dead!"
"I didn't know if you were still alive," Ian explained softly. If he hadn't heard the previous exchange of words, Riley would have believed him.
"You closed the door on us," Riley accused, his eyes shooting daggers. "You threatened to kill us, you and Shaw, then you left us to die."
"I was frustrated," Ian said, frowned morosely. "I was scared when Ben lit the flare, I was confused. It wasn't supposed to end that way."
Riley opened his mouth to shoot back, but instead leaned back into the seat and heaved. He was so tired. He just wanted to sleep. The cold was lulling him into a trance, someplace where the pain radiating from his hands was lessened, fading.
"Riley." Ian leaned forward, shook him. "Stay with me."
Riley blinked, his eyes struggling to focus.
"You've got hypothermia." Ian turned to Shippen. "Can you drive any faster?"
"Only if you want to skid all over the ice," was the reply.
"Riley, you've got to stay awake. Don't fall asleep. You hear me?"
Riley focused on Ian's face briefly, nodded.
"Recite something."
Riley frowned.
"What?"
"I said recite something. A poem. Anything. I want to hear you."
Riley's frown increased, racking his brain for something. The first idea that came into his mind was stupid. Idiotic. But he couldn't think of anything else, and finally started talking.
-
Ben saw the light change. He paused for less than a second, then hurried on. If he could get out of this, he would be able to see Riley. He'd find Riley. Then they'd have to figure out a way to get out of here.
Ben stopped, noticed more tracks. More people. Something had happened. Oh no.
There was a far-off rumble. It wasn't thunder. It was mechanic. It hit Ben like a steamroller.
They found him.
-
"…but then, at the end of the night, you know who would show up? The most dangerous shot of them all: tequila. And tequila never shows up alone… oh no. There's always eight or nine of them: 'come on, man, we won't start no trouble, man. We just came here to have a good time, that's all. We left the worm back in the van, he won't bother nobody.' And then, like an idiot, you let in one shot of tequila. And then he sneaks in all his friends…"
Riley's voice faded suddenly. Ian's grin vanished. He let go of Riley's hands, leaned in, lightly slapped Riley on the cheek.
"Riley, Riley, don't give up on us yet. Come on. You were at tequila – he just snuck his friends in."
Shaw looked up. Getting the kid was a bad idea. Sure, his little 'alcohol soliloquy' was entertaining, but he before he could start getting them out of there, he needed his fingers back. And it was taking time. And his consciousness was slipping. If Ian would just stop coddling him and put him to work…
Ian reached into the provisions crate in front of him, handed Riley a bar of chocolate. Riley stared at if for a moment, trying to remember what he was supposed to do with it. His fingers were red and sore, but better. His mind wouldn't stop reeling and as soon as he was on a roll, it would shut down and he'd be slapped back into consciousness.
"Eat it, Riley. You need to get us out of here."
Riley heaved a breath, gathered his thoughts and wolfed down the chocolate. Finally, he pulled his computer closer, wincing at the protests of his hands and stared at it. They had activated every single block he had installed. He didn't think it was possible, but here it was…
He shook his head again, started to pick at the knot they'd created.
"Why didn't you just open it normally?" he asked the congregated group. "If you'd just waited for a second, you wouldn't have alerted the security programs."
"You installed something new," Phil accused him. "I couldn't bypass."
"You didn't need to. Geez." Riley frowned, continued silently. As he neared the end of the knot, he knew his usefulness would finally run out and they'd deposit him to die. None of this would last. He needed to come up with a plan.
"Okay. Here we are." Riley quickly tapped in a few codes, inserting a deactivation command like lightning to cut the link with the satellite. "Oh. Wait. We've lost signal."
As he toyed for a while with unnecessary settings and reactivated the signal, his mind was racking for a plan. If he gave them a heading, he was doomed. He needed a distraction.
Frowning, he concentrated back to the screen. Security alerts were popping up all over the place, still an after-effect of everyone's molesting of his poor computer. Poor baby. I'll get you out of here.
"Riley."
Riley raised his head. Ian gave him a queer look.
"You doing okay?"
"Yeah," Riley glanced back down to his screen. "Yeah. Just dealing with the aftermath of rapism."
"That's not a word."
"It should be. This is why non-IT people shouldn't be trusted with delicate equipment."
Phil stood up, his menacing frame towering over Riley.
"Are you saying I'm stupid?"
"No, I said 'this is why-'"
"Riley," Ian interrupted. "Don't mess around. It's obvious the chocolate helped. Now can you get us out of here?"
"I'm trying. Aargh. Does anyone have an extra pair of gloves? My fingers are-"
"Riley." Ian's voice was cold. Riley's blood froze at the tone. Oh shit. It's starting.
"Okay, okay. Give me a second."
Riley turned back to his computer where it was propped up on an upturned crate. He weighed his options. Give them what they want and hope for mercy, or stall for time and possibly get shot in the head now that he'd cleaned up their mess.
A/N: Again, no beta-reader, might be a little confusing, volunteers apply via profile please. It's such a hassle to go through that ass-long list of beta-ers to find someone suitable. Please guys.
I don't own the little stand-up comedy lines – I don't even know who owns it. It was one of those friend of a friend's mp3s that just spread. It's hilarious, though. If anyone recognizes it, please let me know who it belongs to, I'd really like to credit him.
Also, did anyone notice that Riley's goatee/stubble kept appearing and disappearing throughout the movie? I just thought it was funny. So did my friends. We make a habit of pointing out mistakes like these. It's fun.