They'd been traveling on Route 50 out to Denver when it happened. Route 50 was also known as The Loneliest Road in America , so no immediate help would be forthcoming.

"Where are your pants Napoleon?" Illya asked rather calmly, considering what had just happened to them

"Umm, good question, I lost them when the tornado pulled me into the air out of the car. I guess, not having on my belt didn't help matters."

"And your underwear? Did you forget that as well after you spent the evening with the waitress in Kinsley?"

"Very funny and no. It was hot, so I decided to go commando."

"How unfortunate for you." Illya snickered as he helped his partner to his feet."Would you mind wrapping your suit jacket around your waist, I would really prefer not seeing you dangling in the breeze."

"All right, cut the wisecracks."

"Oh yes that is the other side of you I would also prefer not to see as well."

"Since when are you such a prude?" Napoleon chuckled as he gingerly removed his jacket, tying it around himself.

They scanned the area for their car, or probably what was left of it, was nowhere to be seen.

After Illya called for help on his communicator, they waited patiently on the side of the road for the retrieval team, saying little else to each other.

Napoleon could see by his partner's usually bright blue eyes that he was in pain and finally asked his question.

"You okay tovarisch?"

"Fine, just a little bruised," Illya hand absentmindedly went to his rib cage but he changed topics immediately." The sky is beginning to look rather peculiar. Is it my imagination or is the temperature dropping?"

"Yes, it is feeling a little colder now that you mention it, and no drafty remarks please."

"Perish the thought," the Russian half smiled.

Dark clouds were rolling in from the west, and the temperature was indeed dropping rapidly. Within minutes the agents could see their breath and that's when the first snowflakes began to fall.

"You realize this is not natural." Illya said, handing his partner his own suit jacket to cover his bare legs.

The snow fell rapidly, and they decided it might be best to start moving, doubting the pickup chopper was flying in this. They needed to find shelter, but where? There was nothing along route 50 that they could recall, still moving was better than sitting and freezing.

The wind started to blow, when in the distance they spotted the wreckage of their car. Miraculously their luggage was still in the trunk and Napoleon quickly pulled out another pair of pants, and dressed himself.

Adding their bathrobes as an extra layer, that's all they could do as they had no overcoats; who would expect to need one in the middle of Kansas on a summer's day.

After climbing into the back seat of their derelict car, they jammed the floor mats to cover the broken windows. At least they would have some protection until help arrived.

Illya tossed a small paper sack to his partner.

"Here, bon appetit."

Napoleon peered into the bag, spotting peppermints, the red swirly kind.

"Holding out on me huh?" Solo smiled, popping one of the candies into his mouth, he offered the bag back to Illya.

"No, it was in my suit case. I bought them at a confectionary while I was waiting for you to end your rendezvous with that waitress. He took the bag and crumpled it up after popping the last mint in his mouth. "I am going to go to sleep since there is nothing else to do at the moment."

"Thanks a lot, and leave me sitting here to be bored?"

"Napoleon your boredom is not my doing, but your own. I am sure you can amuse yourself while I nap."

Illya closed his eyes, pulling the collar of his blue terrycloth robe up around his ears as he snuggled against the back of the seat. He was asleep within minutes, no surprise there as the Russian could snooze at the drop of a hat, literally anywhere.

Napoleon sneered as he pulled his communicator, figuring he'd chat with one of the ladies manning Communications, but then he changed his mind thinking it was best he reported their change in situation.

"Open Channel D- Waverly.

"Mr. Solo are you and Mr. Kuryakin all right?"

"If you call surviving a tornado and now a freak snow storm all within an hour's time, then the answer I would say is yes."

"Snow...the devil you say? The helicopter hasn't arrived yet to retrieve you?"

"No sir. The storm blew in rather suddenly and as Mr. Kuryakin put it, most unnaturally since it is the summer, so I would imagine the chopper has been grounded."

"Where are you now?"

"In the wreckage of our car on Route 50. Our suitcases were still intact so we had extra clothing to wear to help ward off the cold...but if this keeps up our bathrobes aren't going help much longer.

"Hmm, hang on,"Waverly flipped a switch on his console but was back on within seconds." We have your exact coordinates now and help is coming from a nearby military base."

"What base is that sir? I know of none in this immediate area."

"Precisely...out."

Napoleon closed his communicator, scratching his head at the Old Man's rather cryptic response. He rubbed his hands together trying to warm them, when not long after he heard the rumbling of an engine in the distance. Something big pulled up alongside them. It was a military vehicle known as a Deuce-and-a-half. A moment later a hand cleared away snow from the rear window and a beam of light from a flashlight shone through the rear window.

"Anybody in there?"

One floor mat was pulled down."Yes there's two of us,"Solo called. He elbowed his partner to wake up and they crawled out of the back of the car.

At least the snow had stopped.

"Howdy, you fellas hurt?"

"Nothing major," Illya answered. He eyed their rescuer who was dressed in army fatigues, a sergeant if he read the insignia correctly.

"What base are you from?" Napoleon asked. "Our superior said he was contacting one nearby for assistance."

"Umm, that would be Area 52 sir, now if you'll get in the truck sir before any other weird weather happens."

"Any idea what is causing it?" Illya asked.

"Can't say sir, classified."

"You meant Area 51...but that's in Nevada," Napoleon asked.

"No sir Area 52, and that's all I can say as it's classified."

Both agents looked at each other and shrugged. That was a word they'd heard many times in their careers...