The next day they set out early. The land they walked looked the same as the day before. The mood was low, praying for some sign to let them know they were headed in the right direction.

Matt was trying to remember everything he had seen when they had driven up. He remembered they had passed a cottage few yards away from the road in a clearing. Where exactly the clearing was, he couldn't remember.

"Any of you noticed the cottage, a little house just a few hours, before the accident, or was it just me?"

"I think I did," Jack said, thinking really hard. "Was it in a clearing but near the woods? If so, then we are probably near it by now."

"We walked around for four hours at least yesterday, what if we have already passed it?" Clare asked, panicked.

"We can't possibly be anywhere close to that cottage if I know which one you all are talking about. It was windy and cold, we were on foot carrying heavy bags, not to mention exhausted and freezing," Brandon argued. "Our rate of travel was obviously slower than the bus and the hundreds of stops we made..." Although he too was considering the possibility of having already walked past the area.

But that didn't convince his friends. "We're probably near it by now," Jack said, straightening the bag on his back. "Let's see if we can find the cottage in an hour or two, and if not, we continue on this path because I haven't seen any chunk of wood so far, and it would be stupid to go back when we're sure we haven't seen anything of the sort on our way."

* * *

Henry felt nothing could go wrong that day as he stepped out of the Peterson residence, caught the lift down to the parking lot and pulled out into the relatively clear morning in his old Volvo. He had easily persuaded Daniel Peterson to give him a day's leave. Christmas shopping, he'd explained it. Henry pulled into the domestic airport, parked in a long-stay section and walked into Departures.

He'd made a single booking to Charlotte and two returns over the Internet. As he walked into the building, baggage-less, he was a bit nervous, hoping he hadn't made any blunders with the booking. Where was the old-fashioned ticket system these days? He sighed and lined up, carefully holding the printout of his booking confirmation.

To his surprise, he was boarding the flight before long, and even faster it seemed the flight was landing at the Hasting-Charlotte airstrip. Henry grabbed his jacket, got off the plane, and headed to the tiny terminal. Inside, it took a moment to find the car rental booth. A plump woman sipping a vile smelling brew sat impassively watching the few passengers scurrying around.

Henry approached her with a warm smile, and after filling out the necessary paperwork, was handed a key.

"It's the only roadworthy one left," the woman droned, almost choking on her brew. She snorted and coughed, not bothering to cover her mouth. "The tyres are fitted with anti-skid chains for the current road conditions."

Henry nodded and pocketed the keys. As he turned towards the exit, the lady drummed her fingers on the counter to get his attention. "Road limits are reinforced at present."

Henry stared at her, bewildered.

"It's the red ute," she said finally. Although her gaze was far removed from Henry, he was sure she had meant him. He ignored her, donning his jacket, and walked out into the chill to find his vehicle.

He easily spotted the battered, faded Ute parked at the furthest corner of the parking lot. He could see that under the top coat, the original paint was peeling off, giving the car a crackle-like surface. Grumbling under his breath, Henry opened the door. No automatic system here. As he settled into the uncomfortably hard, icy seat he noticed that it was a manual. He cursed under his breath, inserted the key and brought the wheezing engine to life.

"They better be right about this being roadworthy," he mumbled. After letting the engine warm for a few moments, he pulled out of the parking lot onto the near empty street. He headed to Charlotte, to the bus depot, and to Clare.

Henry drove through deserted streets, occasionally passing bored teenagers lingering in the chill. He honked merrily just to watch them skeeter away from the car. He drove another few hundred meters before the town center came into view. He slowed, keeping an eye out for the Mountain King Charter service.

When he finally spotted the building, he pulled the car to the curb and got out. The office was closed, with an after hour's number highlighted strictly for emergency inquiries only. The contact name was Sam White.

Henry peered at his watch. It was still a few minutes before the start of business so he decided to wait till nine. To his surprise, the business remained closed quite sometime after nine, and it wasn't till quarter past that he dialed the number he had memorized.

A gruff voice answered. Henry, baffled and annoyed, introduced himself and enquired about the return of the ski trip tour. The man, who initially sounded over-confident and powerful, stammered on the line.

"I'm waiting for my niece, sir," Henry pressed for a more reliable reply than a few incoherent grunts and huffs. "In fact, I'm already waiting outside the depot."

* * *

It was around ten in the morning when Simon dropped by Glenda's place. He had come with a whole entourage to proceed to the mountain. "How's she holding up?" he asked kissing his sister's cheek.

"In a terrible shape but that woman is strong when it comes to her kids," Glenda replied, walking her brother to the kitchen where she had just brewed a fresh batch of coffee. "You want some?" she asked pouring a cup for herself.

"No thanks, I don't have that much time. I just wanted to come by and see if you needed anything." Glenda shook her head. "Okay, well, I better get going."

"When will you be back?" she asked, leaning against the counter.

"Hopefully I don't have that big a mess to clean up." Glenda was staring behind him. Simon slowly turned around to see Helen Reeves. He walked over to her, taking his cap off, "I am very sorry about your husband, I truly am."

"Thank you," she whispered. A moment later, she looked him in the eye. "What happened out there? What happened to my husband?"

Simon looked at his feet in defeat. "I don't know yet but I will by this afternoon. All I know is that the bus plummeted down a slope. None survived. I am truly very sorry."

Helen nodded, tearing up. "You'll tell me when you know..."

Simon nodded and turned back around to Glenda, "About Sam."

"Yes, I know," she said nodding, "I'll let him know the moment I see him."

Sam pulled over by his house and turned off the engine, holding the phone tightly in his hand. "Unfortunately sir, I regret to tell you that I was out of town on business and my assistant has been keeping tabs on arrivals and departures."

The man on the other end of the line called Sam's answer preposterous. And he'd see to it that none of his affiliates ever used Sam's services in the future if he could not even be told how long he had to wait for the return of his family member.

Sam got out of his car and slammed the door with some force. It was too early in the morning for a sleep-deprived man to be yelled at by some city schmuck.

"My sincerest apologies, Mr. Richards, but I've only just arrived in Charlotte myself. I'll call you immediately once I've caught up." Sam walked up to his driveway, bewildered. "I can lie to you and say anytime soon, but that'd just be lying." Before Mr. Richards could protest any further, Sam snapped his phone shut.

Distracted, he walked through his yard which looked like a congregation ground for the town's emergency services men, few of whom greeted Sam with reservation, and some more than others glared at him murderously.

Sam turned to one closest to him. "What's going on here?"

The guy shook his head grimly. "An accident up the mountain."

Sam nodded and walked to his front door.

Simon was about to step out the door, when, he bumped into his brother-in-law, who, according to his sister was due back that evening.

"Simon," Sam gasped, slightly startled. "What brings you here?" he asked pocketing his phone.

Simon quickly looked towards his waiting team and then back at Sam, "Have you heard about Paul?" he asked in a low voice.

"What about Paul?" Sam asked.

"He had an accident on his way to the Lodge."

Surprise and shock plastered Sam's face. "Everyone's okay though?" he asked nervously.

Simon shook his head, "All twenty-one people in that bus are dead, including Paul." He grabbed Sam's arm and pulled him outside.

"Twenty-one," Sam choked. "Where did you find the rest?"

"What do you mean? The rest?" Simon asked.

"I checked the passenger list just before I left for Hasting, and there were at least twenty-five confirmed customers, even after some cancellations." He looked up to see the confusion. "I left the list for Paul to take with him and note any cancellations I had missed."

"Are you sure about that? Simon asked.

"I can't believe this...Paul's a good driver...." Sam leaned on the banister shaking his head.

"I need that list, Sam?"

"Paul probably has it..." Sam closed his eyes for a moment. "Or had it..."

Simon nodded, "Okay. So there could be more people we're missing?" Sam unable to speak, simply nodded. "That puts a new spinner on our work."

"I'd think so."

Simon put his hat on, "Were you by any chance aware of the Highway closures that morning?"

Sam shook his head. "I left town quite early that day for Hasting."

"You're not lying to me, are you?"

Sam shook his head in laughing disbelief, "I know how I can be sometimes, Simon, but I'm not stupid enough to risk my customers' lives."

Simon nodded again, "All right, all right, I believe you," he said walking away. He halted for a split second. "By the way, Paul's wife is inside so you might want to be careful what you say to Glenda in her presence."

* * *

Fuming at the utter rudeness he had met from Sam, Henry got back in the red Ute. He impatiently waited for the engine to get the heater going. He glared out the windscreen, a name burning a hole in the back of his mind. Sam White.

He looked at his watch and wondered how long he should give Mr. White to catch up on business before calling and demanding a respectable answer. Henry decided he'd give the man a generous hour. In the meantime, he felt he deserved a modest breakfast and a good strong cup of tea.

* * *

They walked for another exhausting one and half hours with everyone focused on the detail of their surroundings. Then, without any problem, they found it, standing just a few yards away right in front of them, and all anyone could do was stare at it.

They stared at the solid wooden building, a symbol of safety. The cottage meant they actually had somewhere to stay at night; it meant there could be people in that house who could notify the authorities of the accident, it also meant warmth and food, even perhaps, a warm bed.

"It's beautiful," Jack cried.

Clare turned to him with tears in her eyes. "It sure is."

They started laughing and hugging each other. Jack lifted Clare into a tight hug, laughing. Matt and Brandon also gave each other a hug. In the excitement Clare didn't care, she kissed Jack on his cheek and slipped down. And since Brandon was just next to her, he gave her a hug. Jack and Matt gave each other a slap on the back as if they had just won a championship of some sort.

Brandon and Jack picked up the tent and made their way towards the house. Matt approached Clare when the other two were out of earshot. He pulled her into a hug and a few seconds later moved in to kiss her, quite confident she would not object.

Brandon turned to see why the other two were falling behind and caught the scene; he immediately turned back around to the cottage. An awkward, uneasy feeling rippled through his insides, and he trudged up the few wooden steps, pushing back all his emotions, bottling them up for good. He was beginning to get confused by Clare's mixed messages. He decided, at that very moment, as he heard her laughter drift through the air that he was going to keep out of this pit she was digging for him, the pit he had been afraid of falling into ever since his last relationship which had crashed and burned.

"What are we doing?" Clare asked with an uneasy grin.

Matt jumped to take advantage of her confusion. "If we get back home, I will have to take you to dinner one night."

She slid away from his arms. Picked up her bag, smiled to herself and walked towards the hut, leaving a Matt stunned.

"So is it a yes?!" he called, grabbing his own bag. "You know what?" he ran after her, "I'll take that as a yes."

* * *

Compliments to the chef, thought Henry as he scooped up the last of the scrumptious scrambled eggs onto the last bit of bread and popped it into his mouth. Oh my. Henry couldn't remember the last time he'd enjoyed such a simple meal. Satisfied, he wiped his mouth with the neatly folded corner of the napkin and chased the food down with the last of his English breakfast tea. He looked at his watch. Ten thirty.

Henry ordered another cup of tea and removed his phone from his pocket and dialed Sam White's number. Ten minutes later and feeling the angriest he'd ever felt, Henry raised his voice.

"You mean to tell me that you have absolutely no idea regarding the whereabouts of my niece? Or, even if she's okay?"

The reply seemed to make Henry angrier still.

"Mr. White. Your business cannot afford to have even a hair on my niece's head harmed. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

Sam sat on the edge of the bathtub, a towel wrapped around his belly, and his hand holding the weight of his head. "Mr. Richards, was it? ...I'm just as concerned as you are about the safety of not only your niece but the twenty other people who were with her at the time."

Henry blinked in disbelief as he listened. For a split second, he actually felt rotten about the man whose head he had wanted no more than a minute ago.

"I had my best driver behind that wheel so I'm just as shocked to hear the news," Sam was saying.

"But Clare...what do I tell her father?"

Sam rose from the tub and glared at his reflection in the misty mirror. "For now, all you and I can do is wait, for more news. I suggest you find yourself somewhere warm to stay in the meantime."

"When will any more news come through?"

"I don't know but my brother-in-law, Simon Stacey will be at the crash site in a few hours."

"You'll let me know, won't you? As soon as you get any news," Henry begged. He placed the money for his check on the table and left. "Or shall I call you in a few hours, let's say three?"

Sam hesitated on the line. "I'll call you as soon as I hear a squeak."

"I'm holding you to your word, Mr. White. I hope you won't disappoint."