"Officer Stacey." Larry approached, holding out a hand once he saw the police officer land on his two feet after paragliding down the rock face.

Simon Stacey took the man's hand and shook it. "Thank you for returning to the scene for us. It helped us pinpoint the location much faster with your snow-ploughs."

"Glad to be of help" Larry said.

"I think you can take your team back to town now, get some warmth into you" Simon said as he walked briskly towards the bus, already surrounded by his team. "We'll reach you again if we need to ask you any questions." Larry nodded. Simon looked around for his assistant and spotted Boyd by the bus. "Boyd, will you please see to it that Larry here and his team are delivered safely to Charlotte." He turned back around to Larry and nodded, asking to be excused.

He approached his men. "How's she looking?" he asked eyeing the bus with due regard.

"She took quite a beating," one replied, "from our quick analysis of the wreckage and the examination of whatever is left of the skid marks on the road," he walked Simon towards the windscreen area of the bus. "It's quite clear that something unexpected might have come bounding onto the road, which the driver must have tried to avoid, and hence the skidding, resulting in the bus plummeting".

"So what caused it to fall off the road?" Simon asked, looking up at the road, hands on hips.

"Well, skidding on the ice sheets could be it, but here's what makes it interesting", the man said, pointing to the front of the bus. "This is what took the brunt of the fall, massive injuries to the driver; he most likely died on impact." He pointed up at the right side of the bus, which faced the sky. "Icy road and speed, it's not that far-fetched to think that the driver could have accidentally driven the bus off the road, however, that impact over there," he said, pointing towards the front of the bus, "that suggests that the bus got pushed off the edge by an impact of some sort. "

"Perhaps another vehicle", Simon commented.

"Yes," the man nodded. "However, you'll be interested to know that this other vehicle was large as well, judging by the expanse of the impact, which flows the entire height of the bus." He looked at Simon. "Perhaps even another bus turning that blind corner where the crash seemed to have taken place." He pointed up to the sharp bend in the road. "I'd say our driver here got taken by surprise."

Simon nodded thinking to himself, rubbing his bristly jaw. "And what about the number of dead, what number did we come to?"

"Kirby took the inside tour and he confirms Larry's count", Jim replied. "Twenty-one bodies, and we believe most of them died on impact or shortly thereafter."

Simon nodded, remembering how many people Sam had said should be there. "Are you sure?" he asked.

"We've counted several times, sir."

"Alright," Simon said, "have the men conduct a search at least few kilometres across the whole area, perhaps some of them left the scene."

Jim left Simon and recruited almost all the team for the search. "Fan out, men, vigilance is the key. We're looking for any signs of people, not just bodies."

Simon watched his men disperse and approached the two men still inside the bus. They were busy freeing bodies from the bus and bagging them.

"I wouldn't have wanted to be any one of them," one of them said, as they brought the first of the bodies out and laid it in a plastic bag. He turned to Simon. "Where shall we put them...?"

Simon looked towards the cliff. "Near there would be fine, I just don't want you men to clutter the scene."

The men scouted the area and, upon seeing a raised area, they laid the body down on it. Suddenly something unexpected happened. The snow atop the small plain rolled down the surface, revealing a closed sleeping bag.

"What's that?" Simon asked curiously.

"It's a sleeping bag" one replied. Before Simon could tell them to check it, they lifted the body bag off and laid it down beside it. Undoing the zipper, they found themselves looking at a man.

"Looks like he's been dead for a while, sir"

"Sam was right" Simon said. "Okay, bring the driver out. I want you to check his pockets for a passenger list."

Simon was taken aback when he looked at the dead man's face. He could not believe that the man was Paul Reeves. He had met the man once, perhaps a year ago, at his sister's place on Christmas Eve. The face he remembered was no longer there, replaced by serrated skin and flesh. He turned around, feeling nauseous for the first time in ten years.

"When you find the list, bring it to me" he said walking back to the bus, "and if you don't find anything on him, I want you to check any compartment inside the bus near the driver's seat."

About twenty minutes later, nearly all his men had drifted back to the crash scene. One man approached Simon with the list.

"We found the list you wanted, sir" the nervous forensic guy handed Simon the crumpled envelope.

Simon nodded. "All right, I want you to help secure any evidence and bag the bodies," he instructed. Then he grabbed his second in command and pulled him to one side. "Look at this list and count the number of passengers the driver confirmed"

Kent took a moment, "Twenty five. Well, including the driver, that'd make twenty-six bodies, and we've only counted twenty one." He looked down at the piece of paper, "We're missing five people."

"No, we're missing four. The forensics found one body zipped up in a sleeping bag laid beside the wall."

"Zipped up in a sleeping bag you say?" Kent asked. "That'd mean someone had to put him in there." Simon nodded. "So, perhaps we're looking at four injured, but alive, individuals."

"Yes Kent, four individuals, but what I can't figure out is where they would go", said Simon.

"Sir" someone called. "You'll want to take a look at this."

When they walked over, they were surprised to see a pile of bags strewn about the area.

"Well, looks like they got rather busy down here," Kent commented, looking at the various bags.

"That's not all, sir, Jim over there, he went and checked out the luggage hull," the man said. "He says it's practically empty."

Kent nodded, "They were planning something."

Simon looked around. "The only thing they were planning was a way out of here."

"Quite rational, considering we only found out about the crash a day or so ago", Kent commented, pocketing his hands.

"But where would they go?" Simon asked once more. He looked at Kent. "We need to find them alive, and soon, or our arses are going to be on the line come tomorrow."

"I don't have a clue as to where they could have headed," Kent said. "We didn't find any tracks down here, but then again the snow could have covered all that,"

Simon focused on the tree line. Then he looked up at the road. "Could they have climbed up onto the road?" he asked thoughtfully.

"That's absurd," Kent commented as he thought about four injured individuals scaling the vertical rock face freestyle, "unless they had a rope or something."

"And suppose they did." Simon added.

"Then we should be vigilant in our air search, we may be able to find them trekking down to town."

Simon nodded. "Radio in the chopper, Kent. Tell them to be on the lookout for four people on foot ASAP."

* * *

Jack and Brandon had been knocking on the door of the alpine cabin for a while but there was no reply. Brandon hit the door again in a rhythmic fashion, tappa-tap tap...but still no one came to answer. He rapped at the door again. "Hello...is any one home?" while Jack busied himself peeking through the heavily curtained glass window.

"Can you see anyone?" Brandon asked, cherishing his cold, throbbing fingers. When he shook his head, Brandon too approached the window but he couldn't make out anything either. "Your turn to knock"

Clare arrived at the foot of the steps. "So, can we stay here?" she asked and dropped her bag.

Matt came running after them, dropped his bag at the foot and rushed up the stairs. In such haste he tripped, twisting his right ankle and sliding down the icy steps. He screamed, pain shooting through his leg, coursing up from his ankle.

He helped himself sit on the first step. "What happened?" was the first remark he heard.

He sat there, not daring to touch his leg. "I think I broke it". The others looked at each other. No one had a single clue about what to do. What if it was broken?

"You better hope it's only sprained" Brandon commented. "Stay here, I'll go see if there is a back door so we can go in".

Few minutes later they heard the front door squeak open. Brandon stood there looking rather smug. "Guess the owners are out" he said sarcastically, "I guess we can crash here for a while. Come on in, it's too windy out" and held the door wide open for them to enter.

Jack asked Matt if he could stand.

Matt shook his head, "No."

"All right" Jack gave him a hand. Clare offered help and Matt gladly took it. As he put all his weight on the others' shoulders, she couldn't keep her knees straight, her legs didn't have the strength to carry a six foot guy up a set of slippery stairs.

"Okay Brandon you're going to have to take over, I can't do this," she said, "...my knees are shaky".

Once inside, Brandon made a point to check the kitchen for any long life food stock, or any kindling of kind, to no avail. The light fell away from the cabin at an amazing rate and pretty soon he was made redundant. He joined the others in the den, all anxious in their wait. Each wondering if anyone would be walking through those log doors to find four perfect strangers sitting snugly in their living area. Hours went by at a snail's pace, giving way to the dark abyss of the night. The temperature dropped considerably, and the chilly night air invaded their layered clothing.

The silver blue moonlight cast dim shadows on the walls. Brandon had been sitting next to the window, but in a clear sign of frustration, he started pacing to and fro next to the huge rocking chair in which Clare was curled up.

Clare got off the chair, unable to stand his pacing; it gave her a sense of panic and she needed to occupy herself with something else. She walked to the window and wiped away the mist on the glass pane, staring outside through the porthole she had made. She looked at the full moon peeking out through the blanket of clouds lingering around it.

"It's a beautiful night" she said, wiping more of the mist away from the glass, "I don't think I've seen anything as beautiful. Full moon over the open snow plains" she sighed. "It would look more beautiful if we weren't..."

"Beauty is mostly devious," Brandon said with slight regret.

Clare turned around astonished. "But still, you can't deny that it's a beautiful night"

"Is it just me or is the house colder than it used to be?" Matt asked.

"It's you" answered Jack from the dark, "we've been sitting still in this cold room for too long. Obviously we're not generating as much heat as we had been walking, so it's mostly you."

"Jack, something actually got through to that head of yours" Matt said, rather amused.

"It's not just a pretty face, you know" Brandon added.

"Very funny" Jack barked curtly.

The room fell silent again, so silent that the stillness of the night churned out sounds of rushing wind and chirping birds, thousands of inaudible voices. Nothing but the sound of silence whirling around in their ears.

As the wind whirled outside, Jack got up. He approached the window and peered out. "Looks like the blizzard's not going to stop" he said. "I don't suppose the host will be returning home anytime soon, if there is a host that is..."

That was the first time the likelihood of the cabin having been abandoned hit and Jack had already found two reasons why no one had returned as yet; one, no one lived there, and two, they got lost.

"They might return after the storm" Clare said.

"Even so, I'm tired of playing this waiting game". He stood up and walked to the small room out the back, past the modest sitting room, where he saw a pair of bunk beds. "If you folks don't mind, I'm gonna hit the hay for a while" he cried out loud. He calmly walked into the dim room, arms outstretched in the darkness, like a ghost vanishing into the night.

Clare shook off the eerie feeling and snuggled up deeper into the chair, pulling the warm coverings over herself. As she sat there, slowly drifting into sleep. One by one, the boys too drifted away into the little back room. By the time morning came, only she remained behind, wrapped up in her sleeping bag and a small blanket which she had found lying on one of the bunks. The gentle rocking of the chair helped to relax her and she drifted into a peaceful, foggy sleep where she was no longer hungry or cold or tired or scared.

* * *

Henry paced nervously in the motel room, peering at his watch every now and then. It was almost six in the evening and he couldn't exactly account for his whereabouts to Daniel Peterson as yet. Absolutely not without letting him know Clare was either dead or missing, and Henry had not, yet been able to determine which news he'd be delivering. In fact, he didn't want to deliver any news yet.

He tried Sam White's number once again. Two rings later the phone connected. "Mr. White"

"Mr. Richards..." came Sam's resigned voice. Having answered several calls from concerned relatives of the accident victims, Sam was tired.

"Is there any chance you might know the number of casualties and their description?"

Sam sighed. "If you'd like, Mr. Richards, I can give you a direct number to the man heading the investigation...Please Mr Richards," Sam said. "You may ask Officer Simon whatever you wish and you'll find his answers reliable, more so than mine,"

"If it wouldn't be too much trouble,"

I'd rather your company hounding Simon, than your phone calls every five minutes, thought Sam. "No, not at all. Do you have a pen on you?"

Henry dialled home and Margaret Peterson picked up the phone.

"Henry! Where are you?"

"I'm afraid I'm stuck for the night, dear Margaret. A friend suddenly fell terribly ill and I couldn't with good conscience leave her by herself for the night." Henry said pacing the floor, cautious not to be caught out lying. "I hope you and Daniel can manage without me tonight?"

Margaret laughed loudly. "Henry, of course we can take care of ourselves for a night." Then, on a more sombre note, she asked, "Are you all right, Henry? You sound a bit tense."

Henry cleared his throat, feeling tears well up in his eyes. "I'm just very worried for my friend, Margaret. Very, very worried!"

"In that case Henry, I won't forgive you if you abandon your friend and come home tomorrow."

"But..."

"But nothing, Henry! You take care of your friend as long as you need to and leave Daniel to me." A moment later, Margaret swore she could hear him sob.

"Are you okay, Henry?"

"She's family, Margaret. I don't know what I'd do if anything were to happen..."

"Then we shall pray for her speedy recovery" Margaret said gently, "you just do the best you can for her."

Henry thanked her profusely and then hung up, quite relieved that he could take as long as needed to find out if Clare was okay. Then he quickly grabbed his jacket, the piece of paper with Simon's phone number and dialled.

* * *

The morning came by too quickly for the boys. It had been too long since they had managed to get a good night's sleep without having to worry about waking up buried beneath a ton of snow. They lay awake on their respective bunk beds. Not daring to escape the closed warmth of the sleeping bag for fear the air in the cottage was too cold. It wasn't until very late in the morning that they bothered to get up, thanks to Clare.

She had had a pretty comfortable night's sleep until the early morning when the cottage began to feel colder, and she had a frightening nightmare. She had seen herself standing at the edge of a cliff looking down and all she had been able to see was a grotesquely thundering black river. She had turned to walk away from it against an invisible force which detained her from moving forward, instead pushing her over the edge until she plunged through the freezing air. The next thing she saw was an image of herself trapped inside a block of ice, frozen, carried away by the current of the river, taking her away from a figure who stood on the tiny bank calling out to her.

She woke up with a violent tremble. Her right hand in a knocking posture, as if she were knocking on the block of ice. Subconsciously, Clare was knocking on the invisible walls that had started closing in since the day of the accident. With each passing day, she felt those walls get thicker and closer. Suffocating.

The chair rocked Clare in the lonely room. A shiver slithered through her chilled bones and she leapt off the chair with a sudden impulse to leave her solitude. She wrapped the covers around herself and stole through the lounge, into the little back room, the blanket dragging behind her.

The boys were sleeping so she quietly climbed onto the empty top bunk above Matt.

"Oh my god, it's freaking cold," she gasped loudly, unable to stop herself.

"Yeah, we know", Jack's croaky voice drifted upwards.

Clare peeked over the edge. "Oh my God. You guys are still awake!" She said.

"Oh my god...yes we are" Jack chuckled.

She slide back inside the covers, trying to relax her hyperactive nerves, gently drifting into a dreamless chasm.