By morning, Frank was the first to rise from the bed of grass, now laden with tiny ice crystals. He cast his eyes over his surroundings, examining them. No one else has roused, but he watched with curiosity as Gerard and Mikey slept, constricted in each other's arm to keep themselves warm. At first he found it rather creepy, then sweet. After all, they were brothers, and the closest of all at that. Not to mention at the risk of death. The other two were curled into separate bundles in an attempt to preserve any remaining body heat.

Frank released an exasperated sigh for no actual reason. Perhaps it was the boredom, or the permanent thought embroidered in his brain that he could be dead in three days, but he didn't plan to overreact about this thought. Then he emanated a breath of hot air over his fingers, but only the tips because he had severed the end of the red and black gloves sheathing his hands. For a second, he despised them, then immediately remembered how sexy finger gloves were.

Another sigh involuntarily escaped him as he rummaged through the pockets of his black hoodie in search of a lighter and a pack of American Spirits. This actually was a struggle, considering the fact that the cold had numbed every last nerve in his fingers. The tip of the lighter flickered to life as the tongue of a hopeful little flame licked the bitter air. The flame's reflection danced in the deepest crevices of Frank's dark hazel eyes as he held it up inches from his face, watching it shudder and flinch with the faintest of breezes. His concentration was shattered when a sudden gust of wind murdered the fire. Frank, not undetermined by this, resurrected the flamed with a quick application of pressure from his right thumb. He thought long and hard about the lighter, and wasn't actually sure why at first until he began to envision what it would be like if life actually functioned like this. We are the flame. The wind is hatred, depression, insults, drugs, alcoholism, enemies and when we are extinguished by these factors, we simply apply pressure and spark again into a new fire. Frank snapped from his daze and let the flame envelope the tip of the cigarette.

"Frank, what the hell are you doing?" Came a voice from his left still heavy and dripping with the effects of exhaustions.

He turned to Ray, who had spoken, and answered plainly. "Smoking." Light grey, poisonous tendrils curled from his mouth and nostrils as he spoke and he held up the cigarette to emphasize his answer.

"Seriously? At a time like this?"

"Why not? We're all gonna die anyway. If figured if there's one thing I wanna do before I die, it's having a cigarette. Well, that and making out with Gerard."

"What?"

"What? I didn't- I mean... Cigarette?" He thrusted the pack and the lighter toward Ray, who accepted it hesitantly after debating whether to take one or not.

"Hell, Frank, these cigarettes are gonna kill you before nature does." Ray said with a grin while lighting his own.

"Relax, Ray. Smoking isn't that bad for you anyway."

The other man raised an eyebrow in disbelief. Frank shook his head as if to ignore the look he'd just received. He didn't care. He'd quit smoking. Someday.

"So... You and Gerard then?"

"Drop it, Ray."

There was movement from their right, and they both turned to look. Gerard had awoken now, and was sitting upright, yawning and stretching. He was rubbing his eyes as he spoke. "You guys, I had the weirdest dream last night. So, we were all on the tour bus, and then it crashed. Weird right? I know, but it happened, and then I don't remember what was next but Frank or someone pulled me from the wreck and then Mikey had a broken foot... or was it ankle? Does anyone know why it's so cold out? Then Frank tried to fix Mikey's foot or ankle or whatever, but Mikey wouldn't let him and Bob got all pissed off because Frank and I wouldn't stop arguing... Or did Bob get pissed off first? I don't know... But-" He opened his eyes and soaked in his surroundings, both shocked and disappointed. "Fuck. That wasn't a dream was it?"

"Nope," Ray confirmed.

"Oh, by the way, Frank, what was that about wanting to make out with me?"

"Uh... nothing. Ray said that." Frank blurted out.

Gerard glanced to Ray, who was too shocked to decline Frank's statement. Gerard wasn't actually sure what to believe, though Ray probably didn't want to kiss him as much as Frank, but he shrugged and let it go. "We should probably wake them up," He said, gesturing to the other two bodies. Gerard turned to Mikey, leaving Ray and Frank to try to wake Bob up, which was going to be a struggle. He leaned closer to him and watched with a vigilant gaze for a moment, smiling softly as he ignored Bob jamming his foot into Frank's side and Ray persuading him to stop. He gently placed a hand on the side of his face, feeling and treasuring the heat expelled. He promised again, as he had countless times before, to protect his brother. "MIKEY WAKE THE FUCK UP!"

"Huh? Wha-?" I- I'm up!" Mikey bolted up so quickly, Gerard was surprised he didn't snap his spine in half or something, though the abrupt movement did cause pain to surge through his ribs. He hugged himself tightly. "Ow... shouldn't have done that."

"How's your foot?"

"Ugh... I don't know... Okay?"

"Well I guess we should- Bob!? What the fuck are you doing to Frank? Stop that!"

"Fine," said Bob.

"Well," began Ray, "it seems as if no one has passed us yet."

"Really, Ray? Wow, thanks! I couldn't not tell that myself!" Snapped Frank sarcastically.

Gerard sighed and shook his head in exasperation at Frank's comment. Frank had a bad habit of throwing in sarcastic remarks at inappropriate times, and as comically droll as they may be, were a bit excessive. "Shut up, Frank." He smiled and addressed Ray. "Please continue." As Ray spoke, Gerard couldn't ignore the look of pure hatred and annoyance he received from Frank, even though ignoring seemed to be one of his talents.

"As I was saying, no has passed up yet." He paused briefly and shot Frank a glare of attentiveness, as if to catch any sarcastic statements that he could see balanced on his lips. Instead, he returned a black, stupid stare, turning Ray's mouth in in a faint flicker of a smile. "And I don't think anyone will. This road is so desolate. I say the only way to survive is to keep moving." He thrusted a finger in the direction they had been heading initially. "That way."

The other four expressed consent with subtle nod, but Gerard was the only one to speak up. "Okay... but what about Mikey?"

"He'll have to be carried," offered Ray again.

Without another word, Gerard kneeled next to Mikey, placed an arm under his knees and around his back, then lifted him from the grass. He struggled in protest as the already bounteous pain accumulated in his broken rib was amplified. This was rather disappointing to him, because over the night it seemed like his senses had abandoned their memories of his injuries. There was nothing beyond that quick jostle, and all Mikey could do was fasten his arms around the older one's neck and hold on. Despite how much weight Mikey didn't have, Gerard almost felt his legs give out from underneath him, but he assembled all remaining strength and held him up. The strength he had was soon to run dry. In fact, they were all running low on energy and with that in mind began to estimate how long they would last, which all could reason wasn't much longer. With their pace so slow, they knew the distance they were covering wasn't going to make a difference, and the icy Canadian tundra was to serve as their tomb, though it was worth the effort. They began to scoop up handfuls of the light snow that had begun to fall in an effort to quench their thirsts. It didn't seem to work very well.

After an hour, Frank collapsed, weakened from fatigue and the weather. His gloves soaked up the melted snow as they came in contact with the dirt and he gasped for air, which only stung his lungs.

Ray was the first at his side. "Are you alright?" Frank wanted so desperately to snap back with his bitter sarcasm. Of course he wasn't alright! He was dying! They all were! But with the lack of energy to even do that simple task, settled with a meek nod. He also knew Gerard would bitch about it, too. Ray seized Frank's arm and wrapped it around his shoulder to support him. As he stood, taking Frank with him he asked, "Can you stand?" Frank planned to reply with something along the lines of, "Well, I don"t have much of a choice now, do I, Ray?" But decided against it and nodded.

"We have to take a break," pleaded Gerard to the others, also worn from exhaustion. "I can't go anymore." He looked to Bob in desperation after not receiving a response. "You agree, right?" Bob only shrugged. It seemed he was taking the place as the dominant one of the group. He, also the most mature, was able to remain the calmest out of the five. It was as if no suggestion was carried out with Bob's consent. Gerard took the response as an agreement and kneeled in the snow, dampening the entire from of his calves. He didn't set Mikey down either. He was asleep anyway.

The other three mimicked Gerard, not caring either about the snow, but Bob spoke first. "We need a plan," he stated blatantly.

"What kind of plan?" inquired Frank.

"A plan to keep up alive, dipshit."

Frank shot him a scowl of pure hatred, despite all the rude remarks he himself had made. But he kept his temper under control and continued again, this time as if speaking to a child. "Okay, Bob, but what do you suppose we do?"

Bob ignored his mocking tone. "If we don't find food, we're all gonna die," he said, anticipating sarcasm, but before Frank could open his mouth, Gerard joined the conversation.

"Care to elaborate on that?"

Bob gestured to their surroundings. In the hours they had been traveling, the road had lead them into what had appeared to be a boreal forest. Massive spruces ascended on either side of the road, which now resembled more of a worn path, just an imprint in the thick rows of foliage. They extended hundreds of feet of their heads, filtering the white northern sun's rays through translucent leaves. Pure snow had blanketed the majority of the forest, glinting in the corners of their eyes. The sight would have been relaxing if it weren't for the fact that they all might die here. "Look around," Bob ordered. "It's not that hard, Gerard."

"Ha, that rhymed. Hard... Gerard..." Came an unnecessary comment from Frank.

"Shut up."

Gerard's face lit up, as if discovering something significant. He thrusted a single hand in the right pocket of his black skinny jeans, revealing a second later the body of a Scheffeild pocket knife. With a skilled flick of his thumb, the silver blade uncurled from the sheathe and gleamed in th sunlight. "This should be utile. Anyone know anything about hunting?" After a moment if silence in which no one moved, both Bob and Ray lifted a hand shoulder height. "Good," said Gerard, offering the two the blade. "Take this and go... kill something with it."

Ray hesitantly accepted it, as if the plastic would burn the skin from his bones on contact. Frank was the one to speak. "Wait!" he cried out, only explaining himself after getting a few questioning glares. "We should all stick together. It's safer."

"Reasonable..."

"Then let's get movbefore we all die," urged Bob.