Well, hello world. How ya been? Me, I'm sunburned and peeling, but other than that I'm rather peachy. I'm even peachy-er thanks to my 45 readers and 4 reviewers:

ReillyScarecrowRocks

LivieLi

ImogenXx

Alexis Taylor

Everyone always complains about my cliffies…and honestly, I just can't help it. Those cliffs just may themselves sometimes, I swear! Now, I could lie and tell you that there won't be any more of those said cliffies, but I hate having to lie to you guys. So pretend I'm that nice old lady neighbor of yours that always pinches you cheek; you gotta smile and take it. Pretend that I'm 91 and not 14, and I have gray hair and- never mind; just accept my apologies for the annoyance.

Cammie's POV:

Either it was the cold water or the just general cold-ness, but I was seriously on edge. And I think that Alex noticed it too because he kept looking at me to make sure I hadn't self destructed yet or anything. Or maybe he kept looking at me because he'd never seen such intense bed head…that's always an unfortunate possibility.

We had retrieved our gear (or what was left of it) from our rooms, taken a couple pairs of skies, and hiking boots. From the house's layout, I was thinking that this was some sort of hotel/motel/bed-and-breakfast kind of thing. And an expensive place as well…all the stuff in the bags we had gone through in the rooms was not WalMart brand if you know what I mean. And the ski equipment we had…borrowed, from the garage wasn't cheep either.

Alex's plan was pretty simple, so simple that I could understand it in my slightly messed up state: get out of there as quickly and quietly as humanly possible. Then we had to get to someplace with a phone so we could call in and make sure that everyone knew we were still alive. Alex had mentioned something about 'Nan' calling Jack, but I wasn't sure if I totally believed that. I mean I knew that she had told Alex that, I just wasn't sure if she really had.

The wind was blowing like something out of a bad Hollywood film, one of those storms that seemed to violent to be real. The wind was shrieking like a banshee, cutting off any kind of communication. Alex had had the foresight to grab some thick rope and know he was tying us together as we stood in the doorway of a barn we had come to. It was only a dozen or so steps from the house, but it was deserted, giving us sometime to collect ourselves.

Both Alex and I were pretty capable skiers, and for the first time in my life I was thankful Tina Walters, Courtney Bauer, Mick Morrison, and I had braved the ski simulator in the eighth grade when we were in the Alps for winter vacation. I had thought that the 'sissssss-vaaa-kaaaa' as Tina called it would be beyond awful, but we snuck into seven banks, five museums, three jail cells, and one foreign embassy. It was pretty great.

But back to the present…or the simulator as the case may be. The simulator was supposed to be completely outrageous; nothing in the real skiing was supposed to be like it. And in the Alps, it wasn't, but in an Alaskan snow storm, it was worst.

We skied away from the barn and down a driveway that hadn't been plowed recently. If I hadn't had my head down to fight the wind, we would have gone right past the main road and off into the wilderness. Which while interesting and probably pretty, would have made this stupid trip even longer than it already was. I was really wishing that I was at home eating burnt microwave pasta with my mom. I tried to retract my mind and put it where it belonged, I really needed to focus.

Reaching out to grasp the rope, I yanked on it hard. Alex's skis came to a stop and he looked back at me…or because of how much he could see, in my direction. I pointed to the road and he nodded, and we set out down the road away from the house.

After Three Hours In A Blizzard…

You can't feel your toes.

You can't feel your nose.

You really can't feel any particular body part.

You can feel your legs and feet because the skis are killing them slowly.

You can suggest blizzard training at Gallagher.

You're assuming that you're going to survive. And that's still up for debate.

You figure out that it is possible for your eyelashes t freeze together (aka being frozen shut).

You really miss those mild Virginia winters.

You miss your dry socks.

You miss your hands.

You miss your possible boyfriend.

You miss your parents.

You wish you got to say you love them one last time.

You find an airport?

"ALEX?" I screamed into my companion's ear. When I finally got his attention, he shrugged as if to say what?

I pointed to a building that might have been a mirage. It looked like a plane hangar and was set only about 25 feet off the road. From what I could see of his frozen face through my frozen eyes, he still had no idea what the heck I was talking about so I just turned and started towing us towards the building. Which was actually a lot harder that it may seem, Alex is a very sturdy lad.

About three steps from the door of the building, Alex finally figured out what I was going for and actually pulled his own weight to the door. We didn't even bother to knock; we just pulled the door back and fell in towards the glowing light.

The last thing that registered in my mind before I passed-out-slash-fell-asleep-slash-lost-consciousness-slash-blacked-out was a high pitched scream.

I was again lying someplace very toasty and very unfamiliar. It seemed like ever since we had arrived in Alaska, I had been getting really cold then getting warm again. Rather unnerving, don't you think?

I opened my eyes to see the inside of a metal pole building and a dim yellow light. I could feel someone's foot (Alex I assumed) poking me in the ribs, minus his skis. I gently turned my head to get a better look around...and almost wet my pants at the sight of a grizzled old man staring back at me, "How you feelin' girl?"

I pretty much jumped right out of my skin and screamed like a little girl. I tried to roll away from him but Alex was in my way, which was probably a good thing. It made me focus and stop the flight reaction, "Who are you?" I managed.

The man was about 60 with a ratty gray beard, dark brown eyes, and a weather beaten face. He actually reminded me a little of Grandpa Morgan and he wasn't nearly as scary as I had thought earlier. He kind of grinned at me and said, "I'm Ezra Nelson. That's my granddaughter Alyssa. Might I ask your name?"

"Taylor," I replied, watching as Alex finally stirred. "Danny, you okay?" I asked in his direction.

"Thawing."

I looked back at Ezra Nelson and noticed for the first time the little shadow behind him. A girl, Alyssa I assumed, of maybe twelve stood blatantly staring at Alex and I from behind a pair of glasses with thick black frames.

I had a flash of memory of a scream as we tumbled into the building, "You were the one who screamed."

She flinched at the sound of my voice and shrunk further behind her grandfather, "You frightened me."

Alex kicked me in the rib as repositioned himself. I glared at him but he missed it…because he was looking at the airplane that sat just a few feet from us. He was thinking that we could fly that out of here, and I knew this because I've obviously been spending too much time with him.

I remembered that I needed to reply to the little girl so I said a distracted, "Sorry."

From my limited knowledge of planes, this one was a pretty nice one. It looked to be a PA-28-180 Cherokee, build maybe 1971, '72 and it had floats on it for landing in the water. "Would you sell us your plane?" Alex asked.

Ezra shrugged, "You can have it, ain't mine. I came here to blow it up."

"What!"

Ezra shrugged and painfully pulled himself up with the help of his granddaughter, "I got a problem with the man who owns this place. So I'm going to take care of it."

"There are some better ways to work out problems, sir," I said as I looked around the building that was stung with enough dynamite to blow a small town sky-high.

"Very few personal problems can't be solved with a suitable application of explosives," Was his reply.

"You're going to blow yourself up, there's no way you'll be able to ignite it without killing you and your granddaughter," Alex pointed out.

"We have it set on a timer; it's going to go off in thirty minutes. We'll have plenty of time to get back home. And besides, Alyssa and I set it up real good; she's a genius with dynamite."

I looked at the timid little girl and became increasingly nervous. Time to become even more criminal, "Okay, we'll take the plane; you go as far away as possible."

"How do I know that you won't take my stuff down?"

"We're on the run from the cops; we need a ride out of here quick."

The old man reached into his pocket and tossed Alex the keys, "Okay, you've got twenty-nine minutes and four seconds."

He turned and took Alyssa's gloved hand in his own and walked out of the door, leaving two very confused teens behind.

"You have any idea how to fly this thing?" I asked as Alex hopped up and took an armful of stuff to shove in the back of the four-seater plane.

"Sort of."

"So not the answer I wanted to hear," I moaned.

"Twenty-eight nineteen left."

I grabbed my stuff and dumped it with Alex's then jogged to open the door of the hangar. The night…or morning…was calm again, the blizzard past for the time being. I took one last look around the headed back to the plane, "Let's get out of here!"

I hopped into the copilot's seat and slammed the door behind me, giving Alex a thumbs up as he handed me a pair of head phones so we could communicate. As he started the plane up, I tried to pretend that Alex had done this a thousand times, or better yet, I was on a plane from London back home.

But I opened my eyes again, Gallagher Girls don't pretend. I pulled a clip board with the take-off check list and tired to help Alex muddle through it. We were going to do this, we were ahead of the Circle, and we weren't afraid.

And I really wasn't…until I saw the figure standing in the open door in front of us. Then I was terrified.

The cliffy end. Lots of love to y'all. I'd say more but NCIS is on in a minute so I'm gonna watch it!

~Striker