Thanks for all the reviews, I was simply floored by the great response for the first chapter. The story will probably move fairly quickly due to the time constraints of being trapped alive in the snow. Hopefully I will be able to portray this accurately enough. Reviews are like my girlfriend, i need 'em to survive...so send a dyin' man some love. Seth

Chapter Two

Harvey had just finished packing up the snowmobiles, when Sam exited the ranger's station. He eyed Hank, noticed the shrug and look of regret from his fellow rescuer before he turned his attention to the younger man. "I've got five guys out on the mountain patrolling. Hank radioed ahead an' they're gonna meet us there."

With his sights trained on the mountain, Sam gave a nod of understanding, but remained silent. Harvey noted the stagger in the taller man's gait as he walked to the snowmobile, and mentally kicked himself for agreeing to let him come along. Although Sam was the only person who had witnessed the avalanche, and had the best idea of where his brother had disappeared, Harvey was fairly certain he knew what pine trees the injured man had referred to earlier. He'd trekked through Bear Mountain with his father since he was nine years old, and besides Hank, there probably was no one who knew it better than him.

"Frank an' Joe have already headed up there in the jeep with the dogs an' medical gear," Harvey continued, although he doubted Sam even heard a word he had spoken. "You can ride with Hank." Handing Sam a helmet, he gestured a gloved hand toward his partner. "He knows these mountains better than just about anyone, an' I guarantee he won't come down from there until he finds yer brother."

"Thanks," Sam murmured as he slid onto the seat behind Hank, and put on the helmet.

"Hang on, Sam," Hank called back over his shoulder, shifting his snow goggles down over his eyes. "We're gonna get your brother outta there." The younger rescuer let off on the clutch, gave the engine some gas, and took off like a shot through the snow.

Harvey followed, picking up speed to bypass them, the snowmobile's tracks sliding effortlessly through the snow. His mind raced ahead to what he would find at the avalanche site, mentally preparing his strategy for finding Sam's brother. Ninety minutes, ten men, two dogs and a half a mountainside to search. Picking up speed, he flew over a bump, and continued onward. There's not enough of us to go it shoulder to shoulder, but a zig-zag pattern could leave a lot of unchecked territory.

Fresh snowfall pelted his face, and ground beneath the tracks of the sled as he skirted the avalanche area, and raced up through the tree line on the right hand side of the mountain. A quick glance over his shoulder, told him that Hank and Sam were still behind him as he skillfully maneuvered around the tall pines. Letting up on the throttle, he slowed as he came to a grouping of trees, and carefully steered around them before picking up speed again. In the distance, he could make out the large pines jutting directly out into the pathway of the avalanche, and turned toward them.

Within a matter of moments, he pulled alongside the avalanche area, and killed the engine. Hank maneuvered his sled up beside Harvey and came to a stop. The younger rescuer grabbed his gear, and made a beeline for the pines with Sam and Harvey following close behind. Harvey picked up his pace, and laid a firm hand on Hank's shoulder, halting him from going any further.

"Hank, I know you wanna find him, but we're a team an' this is a group effort."

Hank pulled back the sleeve of his jacket, glanced at his wristwatch, and shook his head. "Fuck the group effort crap, Chief." Pulling Harvey out of earshot of Sam, he lowered his voice and hissed, "You know as well as me that his time frame is totally screwed." He jabbed a finger back toward the ranger's station. "There was no way in hell that kid made it to us within a half hour of that mountain coming down, an' you know it."

"Damn it, I know that," Harvey's voice rose in anger and frustration, but with a glance over his shoulder at Sam, he lowered it and leaned closer to Hank. "But that doesn't mean we screw all our training an' just run down the slope half-cocked cause we'll miss him for sure."

"Best case scenario, we've got about thirty minutes to find him and dig him out before he dies from hypothermia, shock or suffocation," Hank argued, grabbing the probe out of his pack, and assembled the collapsible tubing as he spoke. "So we zig-zag it down the hill, each man five to seven feet apart, an' just pray that the dogs pick up his scent before it's too late." From his pack, he retrieved a second probe, latched it together, and motioned for Sam to join them. "Sam, this is a search probe," he demonstrated poking the pointed tip into the snow packed ground, "It'll find solid objects buried under the snow – it'll find your brother. Understand me?" When Sam gave a nod, he continued, "We spread out an' make a zig-zag pattern down the mountain. We move quickly, but carefully," he cautioned in a stern, commanding tone. "The ground is unstable, so there's risk of setting off a secondary slide."

Harvey watched Sam closely as Hank explained how they were going to find and extricate his brother, noted how the younger man had trouble staying focused, and weaved in his steps as he practiced using the probe. At the very least, Sam had a concussion, how severe Harvey wasn't certain, but what really terrified him was the injuries he knew the hazel-eyed man was purposely hiding from them. Sam's arm, still hung protectively close to his chest, cradling it, and Harvey's eyes widened considerably when he spied splotches of crimson seeping through the bright orange rescuer jacket he had borrowed.

Yanking his hand-held radio out of his pocket, he pressed the button to call for an ambulance, not willing to risk one man's life for that of another. "Gloria," he called over the walkie-talkie, and within a few moments a familiar feminine voice responded from the command center.

"Yeah, Chief."

"Is the Medivac copter en route?" He released his hold on the call button, and keeping his sights on Sam, he waited for her reply.

"ETA fifteen minutes," came Gloria's voice over the hand-held radio. "They're gonna be forced to set down here due to high winds coming off the mountain."

"Alright. I figured as much. Make sure Carl is waiting for us at the bottom. I want him on that copter as quickly as possible after extrication."

Studying the blood stains on Sam's jacket more closely, he came to a decision. "Gloria, I'm gonna need you to send an ambulance up to the east ridge. One man injured, full extend of injuries unknown." He hesitated a moment, locking eyes with Sam and saw the dangerous glint in their hazel depths. He clicked the button again, his steady gaze never leaving the younger man. "Head injury, possible concussion, possible internal injuries."

Sam's hand snaked out, and faster than Harvey would have thought possible, he snatched the walkie-talkie out of his hand, and heaved it into the trees. "Not going anywhere without my brother."

Harvey opened his mouth to argue, but at the sound of more snowmobiles approaching he snapped his mouth shut, and turned his attention to his fellow rescuers. "One man down, approximately forty minutes under," he rattled off, eying each of the five men in turn, and shook his head when any looked as if they might speak. "Last known sighting of him was before these pines, so spread out, five to seven feet apart, an' zig-zag your way down the slope."

At the sound of dogs barking, Harvey spied Frank and Joe working their way through the trees on the opposite side of the mountain, and breathed a sigh of relief. Sam's brother's best hope for survival rested with the rescue canines. "Frank let 'em off their leashes," he shouted, and the older man immediately set to doing as he'd asked.

As soon as they were released, the two German Shepards bound through the snow toward Harvey. Crouching beside them, he scratched the older of the two behind the ear, looked him in the eyes, and said, "Hunter, you ready to go to work? Search Hunter. Find Dean," and the dog sniffed the air a moment before he took off in a zig-zag pattern down the slope.

He then repeated the same routine with the other Shepard. "Thor, you ready to go to work?" The dog yelped excitedly, wagging its tail in response to the suggestion, "Search Thor. Find Dean." The second dog ran off, following the same pattern as Hunter down the mountainside. "Alright, everyone, fan out an' follow the dogs," he ordered to the rescuers, and with search probes in hand, they hastily complied. "I don't think I need to remind you that we're running out of time, so move quickly and carefully, while keeping your eyes an' ears open."

SNSNSNSNSNSNSN

"I'll be there for you, these five words I swear to you. When you breathe I to be the air for you, I'll be there for you," Dean rasped out the Bon Jovi tune through chattering teeth, and grimaced at both the lyrics that somehow got stuck in his head, and the raw, burning sensation in the back of his throat. I'm trapped under a mountain of snow an' I'm singin' Bon Jovi tunes, I'm either dead or delirious.

At first, Dean hadn't really felt the cold, which was odd since he was packed in like a side of frozen beef. But after a short while, the dampness crept in all around him, icy snow seeping through the layers of his clothing to sting his flesh. Luckily, he had worn his leather jacket which was water-proofed and afforded him some protection, but did little in the way of sheltering him from the frigid temperature inside the tomb. "At least I thought to put on two extra pairs of socks and long-johns," he mused aloud, and chuckled at his own brilliance, although he was fairly certain it was never a good sign that he could no longer feel his toes.

He cupped his hands around his face and nose, and blew on them in an effort to keep them warm and hopefully to avoid frostbite. Shivering more violently, he redoubled his efforts, trying to rub his hands together, but his fingers felt thick and useless. I wanted to go to Florida, soak up a little sun, but oh, nooo . . . I listened to geekboy. Have to hunt the Wendigo, he says. Have to track it's sorry ass all the way up the mountainside, and shoot the damn thing right beneath a ledge of snow that's just itching to come down. "I'm so kicking his ass when I get out of here."

Dean squirmed, trying to wiggle his toes and legs, not sure if he had actually managed to make them move, but felt better for having given it a shot. "Nobody's gonna be cuttin' off my toes," he muttered over and over again under his breath, as he recalled hearing stories of people losing their toes to frostbite. He held up his hands to his face, and tried unsuccessfully to bend his fingers at the knuckles."I'm a hunter, an' nobody's cuttin' off anything on me."