Okay… so the imagery in this chapter might be a little too graphic, just to warn you ahead of time. I think rated T is appropriate, but let me know if I'm wrong. I have no claim to Twilight references, as you all know (but they're not here yet, the twilight characters I mean, sorry).

Chapter 3

The Search

-Tuesday 2pm-

Barrett drummed his fingers on the map spread across the hood of his trooper. His brow was wrinkled with a mixture of concentration, and bewilderment. The same words, "five people", streamed repeatedly through his tired mind. Five people had been lost in the park around Mount Hood in the last three months. It was ridiculous that so many people could be lost in the area in such a short amount of time. All hikers should be required to wear homing devices, he mused to himself.

This was the third all day search, that had been mounted to find the latest lost hikers Clayton McKinley and Jeffery Strong. McKinley's girlfriend had assured him that she could find volunteers for another two additional searches if nothing turned up. He did not doubt that she could, it seemed like the whole town had shown up at the park to participate in the search. But did it really matter? It was a search for the bodies by this point. What made him think that this search would end any better then the other searches? More people meant that they could cover more ground, but it was also a bigger opportunity for more people to get lost or to break their leg out there scrambling across the rocks.

"Whatcha', lookin' at?" Bill Crandall, a deputy from Tillamook County asked. He was pouring coffee into a stained porcelain coffee cup, which he passed to Barrett.

"I think we should have these volunteers focus on this plateau. It's more likely that hiker would go there, and probably safer for the searchers. They must really love these boys to drive all this way to look for 'em," Barrett, admitted.

"Well, Jeff's preacher Strong's son and Clayton. Well… everyone who meets Clayton loves 'em. And him being Lindy's fiancé doesn't hurt either."

Barrett smirked at the bitter hot liquid. "They were engaged? So everyone feels sorry for her then?"

"No…they don't feel sorry…well, I guess they feel sad for her, but it's their way of paying her back a little."

"Huh?" Barrett was rolling up his map.

"Yeah, she's the doc who's in the ER most of the time. She used to be a lung specialist- I think, funny seein' as she's engaged to a respiratory therapist." Bill laughed at his own joke. "Ya-see, she spends a lot of time with people and they're grateful for that. Once we had a Latinate, who got burned when he tired to save a little lady from a fire. It was 'bout a year ago. He inhaled a lot of smoke and it burned his lungs real bad. She took real good care of him 'til the helicopter could take him to Portland. Then when he insisted on going home, she would go over to his house night and do, whatever it is they do to fix a guy's lung, so he could be at home with his family. He had two kids, five and seven, and Cynthia needed to be at work, to earn some money. So lindy would even take them home to look after 'em if Bill was too tired to keep an eye open, so he'd get some rest. Just stuff like that."

"What happened to 'em, Bill?" Barrett didn't know why he really cared; he did not want to worry about one more officers' wellbeing, just now. He had a bunch of off duty policemen scouting the wilderness today.

"The Latinate? He can't be out with the force anymore. He can't run like he used to-gets short 'o breath. But he works fer the county doing computer stuff. He somehow developed a knack for that stuff ha'fterwards" Bill's slurred speech was atrocious.

The coffee tasted a little better once you got used to it. Barrett's radio suddenly crackled. Not another sprained ankle? He groaned internally.

"-ey, Barrett we got something here- "

"Whatcha' got? And where?"

"-near where the creek loops back to the east, one of the volunteers found it. - He brought his hunting dog, an English pointer. "

"What is it?"

"-ah…" crackling static, "I think you should come take a look."

"Dammit, Bart what is it?"

"-It's... a HAnd-"

It was one of the strangest things Barrett had ever seen. He had seen a lot of dead bodies found in the mountains, but this…Clayton McKinley had been found beneath a rock...literally. Not just any rock, a rock the size of his wife's station wagon. His hand had been found peeking out of an old badger hole. After trying to dig around the limb they ended up bringing a scoop attached to a four wheeler. They dug two feet down to base of the rock, but still couldn't reach the rest of the body. Finally some hydraulic braces were borrowed from a local mining company, were used to shift the rock away, and there was Clayton. All of him. Not all in one piece, but pretty much all of the parts could account for a single man.

It had to be Clayton, a fireman insisted. The torn shirt was the one he was reported to have been wearing. Barrett was not quite sure, it was impossible to know for sure, maybe with dental records.

It was bazaar there was no blood. Not a drop, just tissue. It was like formaldehyde had been flushed through the body before it was diced up and buried. As though the undertaker had already done his job, to make the skin pale, and to prevent the bruised-boated appearance that was found on dead things. A shiver ran up Barrett's spine. How had Clayton gotten under the rock? The rock had clearly rested in this same spot for ages. There had been no signs of digging prior to their excavation, no signs that the rock had slid one way or another. How could Clayton manage to smash himself with such a rock? There had to be a rational explanation, but Barrett could only stare, as did the rest of the crew. It took some time, after a volunteer tapped his shoulder, before Barrett could shift his attention.

"What do we do now?" asked the small balding man.

"Bill, Marty call the ranger station, and the guys up the road. No one comes up here today, or tomorrow 'til we clear this up some. We'll need to..." Barrett had seen something out of the corner of his eye that made him pause.

A blonde, tired looking woman, in her late twenties, was curled up on the ground her chin resting on her knees. She stared at the exposed excavation site, unblinking. A tall, square jawed Native American man dressed in blue and red, laid his hand on her shoulder and whispered something to low for Barrett to hear.

"What is she doing here?" Barrett roared at the man comforting the woman.

Aldan had kept Lindy in his sites through the whole day; they had forged streams, scurried over rocks and had taken very few breaks.

Aldan felt very at home in the outdoors, and he found himself whistling his favorite folk song. The he abruptly stopped. "Sorry, is my whistling annoying you? I won't do it if it bugs you." How could he be so dense? Lindy was worried sick, and here he was enjoying himself.

"No, its fine. Maybe someone would hear it." Aldan doubted she really like it. And he was unwilling to state the obvious, that the odds were very slim, that either of the men would be found. Especially after all the freezing rain that had fallen each night.

"Hey, remember when Mary, Clayton, and Duncan dressed like elves and whistled that song at the last years Christmas party? They had inhaled helium and Clark laughed so hard he cut wind." A smile lit Lindy's face; it was the first time in a week.

"And, you wore the hat with antlers on it… and they kept flapping to the side when you walked under the doorway with the mistletoe...hoping Teresa would walk underneath it too get to the punch bowl."

Aldan was usually too tall to walk through a doorway without bending down. He ran his fingers through his hair, as a flush spread from his neck to his hair line. "That was some punch! Hey, do you wanna take a break? We haven't been drinking much water today."

"I'm not really all that thirsty."

"Well, I am, can we stop for a sec?" Why was she so stubborn? Alden hated to be the one to ask to rest. But Lindy was possessed with an unhampered drive this week. Alden leaned against a fallen log to take a swig from his water bottle.

Lindy crouched to the ground, slipped her shoes off and rubbed her feet.

"Blisters?" Alden inquired.

Lindy shrugged, but her head jerked up to look down the trail. A figure in a red rain jacket was approaching.

"Did you hear? They found something over by the rive!" the figure shouted.

"Where?" Lindy was on her feet again, passing impatiently waiting for the figure to come closer.

"The east side, before the narrows." Alden recognized the figure of Rodger Beckett, the city librarian. Volunteers had really come out of the wood work Alden mused. He turned to smile encouragingly at Lindy only to find she was not there.

"Lind? Lindy! Dr. Daws, stop!" Alden spun on his heel and chased after the Lindy's green parka, as disappeared into the trees. He had to stop her, Barrett had insisted that he keep and eye on Lindy. If a man valued his peace of mind, then Barrett Sanchez could not be crossed.

She tore directly down the mountain side towards the river, it did not take a rocket scientist to figure out where she was going.

Alden ran faster worried he would loose her in the trees. Finally he could see her blonde pony tail bobby strait ahead. "Lindy! Please, wait up!"

"What if someone needs help? What if someone is hurt?" Lindy called over her shoulder.

Alden knew that she hoped that that someone who needed help was Clayton, but there was no guarantee. Rodger had only said that something had been found, he had not specified if it was a person, an article of clothing or…Alden felt his stomach twist. He knew that most of these search and rescue trips rarely ended happily ever after. He convinced her to walk once they reached the river bottom, but they rendezvoused with some other searchers only to find they were headed in the wrong direction. Lindy simply changed course and took off running once again. Alden's lungs and legs took up a strong protest as he followed her lead. Lindy was too far ahead too see now, but at least he knew where her path would run.

When he saw her again he realized he was too late. She was sitting on the ground, her legs pulled up beneath her chin. She was looking ahead at what was a large crowd of men.

A huge bolder had been wedged out of the way, and there was something spread across the ground before it. At first Alden was not sure what he was looking at. When the realization hit him, he felt all of his air escape in a gasp. Nothing in all of his years on the ambulance crew, as a fire fighter, or as a search and rescue worker had he ever seen anything so disturbing. The site was gruesome to say the least, it was impossible to identify what the tissue had come from. The only clue was the clothing, and torn hiking boots. There was something very wrong with site, aside form its disturbing subject matter. Something about the scene could not make sense in Alden's tired mind.

His rough brown hands found Lindy's shoulder. "Lindy?" his voice came in a hoarse whisper. He could hear Barrett Sanchez yelling and saw him gesturing dramatically, but all he could think about was getting Lindy away from this place as soon as possible.