To Clare's surprise she was leading. She turned to Brandon with concern. "Are you all right?"

Brandon's legs were heavy; lifting one after the other was taking great effort. He was tiring. Clare watched him, tracing her steps back to him. "What's the matter?"

He shook his head. "Nothing, go ahead, I'll catch you at the tree line"

"You look pale."

"I'm just a little tired ...didn't sleep last night," he pulled her into a hug and kissed her head, "...don't worry about me...I'm fine".

Clare hung back, watching him struggle to find his footing. She was beginning to panic. Something is wrong. Something is really wrong!

When they reached the tree line she spoke again. "I'm exhausted. Can we rest for few minutes?" She leaned against a tree, wondering how long Brandon would take to recover. She could tell he was extremely exhausted.

Brandon stood watching the sky gathering heavy clouds. His shivering was worse, especially his hands, thus he hid them in his pocket. As minutes slipped by, his condition turned severe, his body began to shiver. He tried to keep his mind off the inevitable. If help isn't found soon, I'm going to die. He bit his lips as pangs of pain shot through his cold limbs. His joints were beginning to stiffen. He told himself to get a move on and turned to Clare... and through the silence heard a strange gurgling noise.

He walked into the trees and he stood there, struggling to identify the sound. Clare's footstep crunched behind him. "Do you hear that?" he asked.

"Hear what?"

"Listen!" he turned around, "it could be a river, there may be a settlement somewhere along its bank, right?" Clare nodded. Brandon tried to grab her hand but missed and continued trying to get hold.

Clare had already noticed his lack of coordination and increased shivering. She reached out for him, holding his hand tightly. "You want to check it out?" She paused. "Are you okay, Brandon? Honestly?" He nodded and she couldn't help clench her teeth with fear. She was watching the strength in him slowly ebb. He stumbled like a drunk.

"I'm so sorry" she said, steadying him with her shaky hands.

"Why?"

She stared into his blood-shot eyes. "For all this... never asked how you were doing..."

"All I need is a good meal and a good night's sleep..."

"An hour ago you gave me your sweater. Brandon, stop pretending, I can see myself in you. The way you had looked at me then, that fear on your face. You knew that didn't you?"

"Knew what?"

"Whatever's happening to you now was starting to happen to me then".

"I don't know what you're talking about, Clare," he said defiantly. "A little shivering never killed anyone". He struggled on his shaky, cold legs buckling beneath him. His breathing was shallow and drowsiness was settling in as he held onto a tree. He turned to the source of the sound outside of the small thicket of the trees.

"You coming?" he slurred.

His vision blurred, heavy eyelids blinked against the snows glare. His condition was severe, he had already stopped shivering. His joints were rigid from the lack of blood circulation, yet he thought he was absolutely fine. This worried Clare; really worried her.

Her heart sank with fear as she followed him out. Brandon was clearly not fine. She kept pace beside him, noticing his rigid legs searching for the solid ground beneath the snow. His drowsy eyes strained. Once or twice he even stumbled on his own leg and she steadied him. Once outside the holds of the thicket, Clare saw that he was worse than she had perceived. He finally admitted that he needed to stop.

"Anything I can do?"

His eyes roamed randomly. She watched him, her pulse racing. She was beyond panicking. She laid a gentle hand on his shoulder. He barely noticed it. "Anything I can do?" she asked again.

He shook his head. "See, s...ee...what's...there" he stared at what looked like miles of snow.

"I can't leave you. Don't ask me to leave you!" she sniffed holding his hands.

"Plea...please...I bill fhollow"

"I can't leave you...try to understand...not in this state"

He begged, almost drained of energy. "Please!"

Clare's stomach turned nauseous with panic. She couldn't leave him and yet she knew it was as far as he could go. A part of her told her to stay with him and the other part insisted that she run, that she run like there is no tomorrow. Run until she can find someone to help. She didn't want to lose him, not now. As odd as it was, she had begun to fall in love with him.

She kissed him desperately. "I'll be back, you hear me... I'll be back". She reached into his pocket and pulled out the phone with a vice grip. She kissed him again and let go off her backpack. She forced herself to pull away from him. Anger, frustration and desperation surged through her body and she started running. Running out into the open snow plain, praying with every breath she took. Please God don't take him away. Please, I can't lose him. So she ran, disappearing into the snow, fighting both her burning legs and her pounding heart. With every step she was taking, she knew he was slipping away.

* * *

Helen collapsed on to a dining room chair and clung to Glenda, weeping. The funeral party were conversing in hushed murmurs in the living room. A few of the women helped get some finger food out to the people and occasionally glanced at Helen cowering in the corner, unable to pull herself together.

The kitchen door swung open and Sam walked in, the coat's button straining against his pot belly. He quietly approached the two women and held out a handkerchief to Helen.

"I'm so sorry for your loss, dear," Sam swiped at the corner of his eyes. "If there's anything either Glenda or I can do for you, anything at all."

The kitchen door swung open and a few women walked in to refill empty trays. Behind them, timid for the first time, and out of uniform, Simon poked his head in and gestured to Sam.

Sam nodded then turned to Helen. He waited till the other women were out of the kitchen again before speaking. "Sounds odd coming from me, Helen, but, I thought of Paul as a brother. So, if you or the kids need anything, anytime of the day..."

Helen looked up at Sam, her lips quivering as she fought back a flood of tears. She dabbed at the corner of her eyes with the handkerchief and nodded.

"If you'll excuse me," and with that Sam left the two and followed his brother-in-law out to the back yard.

"I'm going to need your statement, Sam" Simon said, uncomfortably eyeing the door.

"What about, John?" Sam asked, looking at Paul's children playing quietly at their swing.

"Well, he was under the influence of alcohol and caused an accident leading to multiple casualties," Simon replied in a hush. "He also fled the scene..."

Sam nodded, pocketing his bare hands.

"You want justice where it's needed, don't you?" Simon asked. "This will bring you bad business. Just want you to know that".

Sam nodded again, staring at the kids. Tears filled his eyes. "As it should" he looked at Simon. "You just find those folks their families for me. I'll deal with my business and what's to come."

They could hear soft chatter coming through the house.

"She's a good woman, Helen. And I made her kids orphans," Sam whimpered, unable to hold back his tears. "It was not his time to go."

Simon nodded, loosening his tie. "Yes," he sighed. "I better get back to the office. Come by the station when all is done." He turned, placed a hand on Sam's shoulder and back into the house.

* * *

Clare tried running faster but the heavy snow sunk her legs deep. She tripped, and began sobbing, breathless. Please, please she prayed, breaking down into tears of frustration. Wherever she looked there were nothing but trees and snow. All this time, thoughts of Brandon clawed at her, his struggle flashing. She pushed herself back onto her tired legs, ready to run as soon as she could get enough air into her burning lungs. As the drumming of her heart lowered she picked up on another sound. She concentrated on it, and realized it was the sound of running water. Brandon had been right.

The sound was ahead of her. She started walking slowly at first, then faster and faster as the sound become distinct until suddenly she slipped on a thick sheet of ice. She stared at the glistening plain of frozen water. A tired smile crossing her lips, her eyes filled up and she laughed. She was sitting on top of a flowing river.

She struggled to stand up and thought she spotted a fishing hole cut into the ice few meters away. She arched up on all four, her neck craning to get a better look. She slowly slithered towards it. A fishing-hole! People come here, they must be around! As she reached the hole, she noticed a little buoy bobbing up and down on the surface. It's not a fishing-hole! Oh God! Hopes of having found some human activity shattered. Finding the buoy meant someone could be far away on a base monitoring.

Clare took a while to contain her disappointment. She looked around. Which way do I go now? Where do I find help? She sat crying. I'm sorry Brandon. There is nothing I can do.

Then she noticed the phone on the ice a few feet away. She crawled to it and turned it on. She prayed for a signal. The screen struggled to turn on and died. Clare tried to turn the phone on again and Low Battery flashed across the screen. Frustrated and angry she hurled the thing.

Suddenly a thought crossed her mind. Someone is monitoring this buoy. What if it doesn't work anymore? They will have to come...they have to.

She pushed up on her feet and stood staring at the piece of equipment. Then suddenly, she started pulling and kicking it, wanting to damage it somehow. Taking her anger and rage out on the device but nothing happened. So, she tried to remove it from the water altogether. Every inch of her tired muscles strained to pull it out of freezing water. The only concern she had was of falling in herself.

She sat on the ice, dragging the buoy. Do I just wait here now? How long? She looked right, and then left, no sign of anyone. She looked up at the grey sky, folding her hands together, fingers locked. She spoke quietly. "I've never asked you for anything, but please send somebody. Please!" she wiped her eyes. "Send somebody!" She rocked back and forth, crying, praying that Brandon was still hanging on. She huddled herself in the cold, hiding her face into the groove of her knees. She lost track of time, and slowly started shivering again. Losing all hope, she made up her mind to return to Brandon empty-handed.

Clare was just getting up when she heard someone yell at her to get off the ice. She raised her head and stared at a tall man in his early forties.

"Get off the ice" he said again.

He walked over to her when Clare stood stock still. He offered a helping hand. "Are you all right?" She took his hand and nodded, shocked. The man looked at her, then at the buoy lying on the ice. "What are you doing here?"

Clare finally found her voice. "I need help."

The man shook his head and picked up the buoy with ease. "This is a very expensive piece of research equipment you've pulled out". He gently dropped its anchor back into the waters, and then lowered the buoy back onto the water. He straightened up and turned her. "Now, tell me. What you're doing out here alone?" The man's deep sea blue eyes stared at her.

"I'm not alone" she slurred, "I had three friends with me".

"And where are they now?"

She looked at the stranger. "Two are up in a cabin somewhere...and the other" her voice broke suddenly. "He is over there" she pointed to the tree line in the distance where she had left Brandon behind. "He's not doing well. He couldn't walk anymore..."she turned to the man. "Will you help me, please? He may be dying".

Gary Schuster nodded and took out a two way radio. He spoke in German. The man talked to a woman in rapid succession. He then sat on his snow mobile.

"Shall we go to your friend?"

Clare nodded, and he drove the vehicle in Brandon's direction. Her heart raced. She didn't know how long she'd been away. She just wished he was still alive.

* * *

"All right men, let's go" Simon ordered.

"Sir" Boyd called out seeing Simon getting into his vehicle. "Doctor Schuster is on the line for..."

"Schuster...Schuster....who?" he asked. "You mean Doctor Gary Schuster?"

"No sir. His wife" Boyd replied. "She's got some information regarding the missing four."

"This is Officer Simon"

"Ja, Officer...my husband just informed me that he's come across a young woman near the cabin we're staying at" Michelle Schuster's subtle accent floated out. "We are going to need some medical assistance...I think the couple are severe hypothermic patients and it would be great if you can organize transportation to get them safely to a hospital."

"Two patients, you say?" Simon asked. Were there more than four people missing? If not, why had the doctors only come across two?

"Ja, my husband found a girl, and he's asked me to come and help him get a young man back to our cabin."

"In that case, advise on your location. I'll have a medical team up there within twenty minutes"

As soon as Boyd saw Simon put down the receiver he couldn't hold back. "What happened?"

Simon nodded with a sigh of relief. "I think we may have finally found the four..." He rubbed his freshly shaved chin. "Get the hospital informed...we'll be flying in paramedics instead of the troops for now". He looked at his men hovering around the dimly lit foyer where the dreary morning light diffused through the frosted glass. "You men stay ready...I might need you to come up there after all...we may still have two missing persons."

* * *

Gary Schuster introduced himself as an environmental researcher as he cut through the plain. "So what's your name?" he asked.

"Clare Peterson" she replied with a tremble.

"Tell me about you freund, Clare".

She tapped his shoulder when she saw her footsteps on the white snow. "He's over there" she pointed into the thicket.

Gary followed Clare's lead. "What happened?" his German accent became obvious.

"Few hours ago...He started shivering, his strides became irregular, his speech slurred...he was exhausted".

"Was he still shivering when you left?"

"No, it had stopped" she said, running to Brandon's side calling out his name. Gary followed suit. One look and his suspicion were confirmed. The boy was already unconscious.

Gary bent over Brandon and felt for a pulse. "We don't have very much time! We have to get him out of the cold". He forced open an eyelid and saw that the pupil was already heavily dilated. He got out his two-way radio. "Michelle, schnell bitte. SCHNELL!"

"He's going to be alright isn't he? Clare asked nervously.

"I don't know".

"But he can't die!" she said in a panic.

"We'll do what we can for him".

They heard an approaching snowmobile. "That must be my wife". Gary got up and ran out of the tree line.

Alone with Brandon, Clare's mind raced. You can't die. I'm here now. She held his hand. "We did it. We found help... please stay with me, you hear me..." She gently stroked his cheeks, kissing his cold lips. "Stay with me...stay with me!" She jerked up, sniffing as Gary returned with his wife, carrying a stretcher. Clare quietly got up and moved away. She watched as they slowly and gently put Brandon on the stretcher. Gary's wife, Michelle put a few blankets over him.

Gary turned to Clare. "Come on...the chopper is coming at the cabin...Can you carry the rucksacks back to the mobile?" She nodded, and husband and wife picked up the stretcher, slowly taking Brandon out of the woods. Clare watched for a few seconds and then picked up the two backpacks. She could hear the two conversing.

"How long did they say it will take to get here?" asked Gary.

"Zwenshen oder driezhen minuten," Michelle replied.

Clare was struck with panic. Thirty minutes was a long time.

"We can't wait for the paramedics, we have to prevent his temperature lowering further or one jerk and his heart goes into cardiac arrest" Gary said quietly.

"...Cardiac arrest?" Clare shrieked.

"He just means we have to be very careful", Michelle answered nervously.

"Then you are not going to move him at all, put him down!" Clare screamed. "Put him down now!"

"Don't get irrational...we must get him out of this cold...Do you understand?" Gary asked coldly.

"But".

"We'll be very gentle, love. We've done this before, we know what we are doing" Michelle said calmly.

"Besides, you've got to get you out of this cold too" Gary said eyeing Clare's unsteady hands.

When they reached the two parked snowmobiles, Gary instructed Michelle to head off to the cabin with Clare. Michelle nodded and Clare followed reluctantly. Meanwhile, Gary tied a rope which Michelle had brought: one end to the stretcher and the other to the snowmobile. When he was seated, Michelle drove off with her mobile. Gary drove the mobile at a snail's pace.

Outside the cabin, Clare nervously waited for Gary to bring Brandon. Michelle watched her, concerned. She tried to convince Clare to come inside the house. Clare refused, nervously looking to the sky, hoping to see a helicopter emerging from the blanket of clouds. But the sky remained empty.

Gary arrived few minutes later and they took Brandon inside with Clare following. Her shivering had intensified and she was losing her co-ordination but she watched Brandon being carried into the bedroom and transferred onto the bed.

"We can do nothing more than try and prevent further drop in his core temperature", Michelle said to Gary as Clare inched closer to the room.

Clare strained to focus on the conversation.

"We can't rapidly re-warm him, honey, you know that"

"I can do it you know...skin to skin!" Michelle whispered, turning away from Clare.

Gray looked at his wife, then at Brandon. "I'll get the scissors". He kissed Michelle on the forehead, "you get ready".

He darted out of the room, swinging the door shut. "You should be sitting down" he took Clare by the shoulders, and walked her over to a three-sitter lounge and sat her down. Her eyes were fixed on the closed door. "We'll do all we can for him...the medics should be here soon". With that Gary walked into the kitchen.

"Could you please leave the door open? I want to see what's happening" Clare asked as Gary walked back out.

Gary looked uncomfortable, and reluctantly opened the bedroom door. Michelle stood there in a blue fleece bathrobe. Gary moved past her and onto the side of the bed and started cutting through Brandon's clothing. Michelle turned and smiled nervously at Clare. Clare could only stare.

Once every piece of the wet clothing came off Brandon, the pair slowly lifted him onto the other side of the bed. Gary swiped down all the cut up pieces of clothing as Clare stared on, her attention solely on Brandon. Michelle's bathrobe falling to the floor caught her eye. Something stirred inside Clare. Surprise. Jealously. Whatever it was, it flared as she watched the woman get in bed with Brandon naked, while her own husband tucked the two of them over with duvets and blankets.

Gary kissed his wife, "Be careful".

Clare turned away, sniffling. "He is going to be ok though, isn't he?" as Gary came out.

Gary remained silent and picked up the radio from the table. "I'll check when the paramedics will arrive". Just then the distant hum of the blades was heard, and the radio picked up frequency.

"Doctor Gary? Come in Doctor Gary...advice on your current location."

Gary brought the radio up to his mouth. "We're in our cottage now" he said and ran out the front door.

The humming of the blades suddenly got louder. Clare got up and walked unsteadily to the window. She saw the chopper land on the snow like a huge bird. Soon enough a man in uniform jumped out holding a hat to his head. He approached Gary and the men shook hands. Behind them, four men in orange fluorescent jackets jumped out of the chopper, two of whom carried a stretcher while the other others carried kits.

Gary led the group of men to the cottage. As soon as his head was inside the door, he looked at Clare. "She's one of them. Severe hypothermia impending," Gary looked as the men filed in, "But she's not as bad as the one inside".

Simon looked at the men assembled around him. "Split up".

No sooner had he finished speaking, two fairly tall men approached Clare while Gary led the other two into the bedroom. The officer followed them.

One of the men introduced himself with a warm smile. "I'm David, and this is my partner Chris," he nudged at the man standing to his side. "We'll do all we can, you're going to be fine". David grabbed her wrist and felt her pulse. "We're just going to do a simple check up, tell me if you feel any discomfort."

Clare nodded, her eyes skipping from David to the door frequently. She caught a glimpse of concern on the paramedic's face as he felt for pulse under her neck. He took out a tiny pen-sized torch and beamed the light into her eyes, checking for lens dilation. "Pass me the stethoscope" he called out to his partner, Chris.

David put on the ear-pieces and asked Clare to take a deep breath, sliding the cold metal head on her already tingling skin.

"Your breathing is very shallow at the moment" David informed, turning to Chris. Understanding what David meant, Chris took out a small oxygen tank, which was already humidified. He fitted the mask to her nose.

"We'll get a stretcher for you, but in the mean time, stay as still as you can for us."

Clare nodded and the men left. "So, how bad is she?" Chris asked as soon as they were out of ear-shot.

"Breathing is shallow, stiff muscles, pulse is down considerably, pupils are heavily dilated" David's voice deepened with concern. "If she is the better one, I'd hate to know how the other patient is going". The men entered the cottage quietly once more with a stretcher.

They gently lifted Clare off of the couch and onto the stretcher, strapping her in. "We're taking you to the chopper now," Chris informed.

Clare suddenly protested. "I don't want to go"

The men looked puzzled.

"Not yet" she longingly looked to the bedroom.

"You have no choice, I'm afraid" David said politely.

Clare looked baffled. "But you need me to show you where Matt and Jack are".

The men exchanged confused glances. "The missing four." Chris mouthed to David.

"And where are they?" Chris asked.

"In a cabin," Clare looked from one medic to the other. "We left them to find help".

Hastily, Chris called Gary.

"What?" Gary asked as he ran out the bedroom.

"You only informed us about two patients" David said matter-of-factly. "She is talking about two more".

Gary turned to Clare before remembering having been told that they had had been four of them to begin with. "Yes, she briefly mentioned it, but I only found these two..." Gary turned around to Clare. "Where are the other two?"

"In a cabin up somewhere"

"What cabin, Clare?"

"The one in the clearing"

Simon poked his head out the bedroom door. "What's going on out here?"

"Apparently there are two more up in a cabin" replied Chris.

Simon's face grew from shock to a one of curiosity. "Two more?" All nodded. "Are they fellows?" Again they nodded.

Simon trained his eyes on the girl lying on the stretcher and approached slowly. "The four of you weren't in a bus accident, were you? A week ago?"

The men all turned to Clare. Anticipating. They were almost shocked, and yet relieved to see Clare nod.

"Jesus" Simon blurted out. "Do you have any idea how many hours, and man-power I have deployed in order to try and find you? I've had the Major sit on my tail all week, not to mention the media flocking in to get their sticky fingers on the story of the month. Mysterious Disappearance of Four in the Snow Valley."

Simon cleared his throat uncomfortably. "Now, where did you say these friends of yours were?"

Clare looked flabbergasted. She ignored the question, her mind racing. "You've been looking for us?"

"Of course" Simon replied, offended. "We started searching for all of you as soon as the wife of the bus driver came for help. Her husband was missing"

"But we waited nearly two, three days"

"Yes" he cleared his throat nervously. "We couldn't send in the search party until the third day. The storm! We had to gather around all the volunteers we could find. Christmas is a tough time for a crisis. And I apologize for that".

Clare started to cry, and Simon's heart went out to her, but the matter at hand was still large. He took a deep breath and spoke steadily. "If you can tell us where your friends are, we can start organizing their evacuation".

"It's a cabin like this one".

Gary turned to Simon, "There are a number of cabins similar to this one".

"I'm aware of that" Simon nodded and focused on Clare again. "When was the last time you saw them?"

Clare shook her head, she wasn't sure. "Two...two days ago I think" she stared at the rafts in the ceiling. "How, how is Brandon?"

Just then the bedroom door opened and the other medics came out, pulling a stretcher gently behind them. The stubby blonde guy turned to address Michelle. "If you would get dressed ma'am, we would like to check you too".

The other turned towards the men hovering close to Clare. "What's the hold up? We've got to get this guy to the hospital immediately".

Clare tried to peer around Simon who blocked her vision. "Turns out these lots are the four missing persons from that bus crash last week". He turned briefly to Clare, "we are trying to find out where the others are".

"You don't want us to wait, Simon," the medic looked at Brandon. "We need to get him to the hospital ASAP".

Simon looked uncertain, and turned to Clare's medics. "Will we be risking her if we send the boy alone?"

David hesitated, then nodded. "You've got half an hour. I'm not ready to risk it beyond that!"

"You boys get that kid to safety" Simon said sympathetically eyeing Brandon. "I'll try and organize another chopper, hopefully Tom's back at the base," he added, dialling a number on his phone.

"St. Joseph's Emergency Helipad Services. Donaldson speaking"

"Donaldson," Simon's haughty voice beamed. "Listen I need to ask a favour. Do you have a free chopper?"

"What's happened?"

"We need to conduct rescue efforts. How fast can you fly?"

"Do you need any medical staff?"

"We've got a couple here. We just need transport, Tom."

"Give me twenty minutes, Simon."

The connection severed, and Simon walked out onto the patio holding up a thumb to the pilot. Soon the rotors started and the chopper rose into the air. Clare listened to the sound, satisfied. Brandon was being taken to safety.

Gary called out to his wife. "Could you make a hot drink for everyone please?"

"With sugar if you don't mind," David begged as Michelle came out of the bedroom. "It'd be good for the patient", he smiled uncomfortably.

They sat sipping hot chocolate and perked up to hear the familiar sound of a chopper approaching. Clare glanced up from her cup, her lips only inches away from her cup. Her breathing mask hung around her neck. She saw the two paramedics set aside empty cups and rise. Clare turned to her half full cup, the dark mahogany drink swirling playfully. She took a sip of the hot, sweet chocolate and ignored all else.

As Clare drank, Michelle sat down on the sofa next to the stretcher. Clare hesitated a moment. "Can I get some more chocolate, please?"

Michelle smiled, eyeing the cup in Clare's hands.

"It's for the boys" Clare said, tears gathering in her eyes. "I want to bring them something other than the bad news".

Michelle nodded and got up, sensing that Clare was about to be transported to the waiting chopper. She hurried to the kitchen, stopping briefly to ask the medics to wait a few minutes before taking off. "I have something to give Clare. I'll bring it out", and with that she disappeared beyond the door.

Clare was fastened down on the stretcher and carried out gently.

Outside, the air was icy. "Donaldson" Simon yelled trying to be heard over the hum of the rotors. "Contact Vince, I want to know if he's reached the hospital with that boy." When the medics carried Clare past him, he gave a faint nod.

David and Chris hoisted Clare up into the belly of the aircraft as Michelle came running with a thermos grasped in her hands. She hunched, fearful of the menacing rotors above her head. "For your friends," she said, passing the thermos to Clare.

"Thank you!" Clare mouthed, teary eyed, just before Chris swung the door closed behind them. The last she saw of the couple were their hands waving goodbye as the chopper ascended.

Clare felt excited. Matt and Jack weren't very far away anymore. With that thought she held the thermos real tight. Its presence did wonders for her morale. Clare ignored the two medics, her eyes staring out of the craft.

A little while later, Clare felt a gentle tap on her shoulders. It was Simon. He signalled with his hand for her to look out the window. "Is that the cabin?" he yelled over the noise.

Clare hesitated. "I can't make out from the roof" she finally answered.

Simon signalled Donaldson and the chopper descended. She stared at the dark cottage, her eyes darting to the windows, eyeing the curtains.

"That's the one," Clare screamed. "I remember the heavy curtains".

Her heart leapt to her throat. She couldn't wait to see the boys. There she was, outside the very house, returned triumphant.

She watched as Simon and the medics jumped out of the chopper. "Wait, what about me?"

Chris looked up as he grabbed the first aid bag. "Sorry, we can't have you walking"

"But..."

"Besides, we're bringing your friends back," David reassured. "We'll be back soon", and followed his partner towards the cottage.

Simon impatiently knocked on the door. When he tried the handle, the door swung open with ease. Surprised, he stuck his head in and peeked. "Rather gloomy in here," he yelled back to the medics. There were no signs of people in the main area. They advanced further into the cottage, boards creaking under their weight. "Check every room, she said this was the place".

The medics headed straight for the bunker rooms and scanned the two bunk beds lining the sides of the room. "In here!" David called, approaching the person on the bunk closest to the door. Chris approached the other.

David hovered over the person tucked under a blanket. He slowly removed the blanket and shown the light of his pen torch on the young man's face. Immediately the eyes flitted beneath the lids, and subsequently a deep set of blue eyes stared up at him.

The sudden gush of intense light hurt Jack's eyes. He closed them again, plunging himself into the dark chasm he had befriended in the past few days. He was afraid that if he opened his eyes again, there would be nothing to keep him going insane. He would still be in the cottage, hungry and cold. At least, with closed eyes, he could imagine.

A distant voice echoed in his forlorn ears. He tried to ignore it. Silence returned and its mindless echo filled his ears again. The voice broke through louder than before, insistent.

"Can you hear me?"

Jack slowly opened his eyes once more. There was no more harsh light shining onto his tired eyes. In the gloom of the room he saw someone hovering over his head. His shivering hands reached for his eyes and gave them a rub. Jack stared at the figure, the features finally coming clear. A man with rusty blonde hair was creating the strange halo above his head.

Finally, Jack's voice cracked. "Am I dead?"

The man in the fluoro-orange jacket laughed. "Far from it!"

"I've been waiting"

"Yes," David replied calmly, "and we're here to help you, but you need to help me out as well. Try to stay awake for me, okay? I'm going to check your temperature and pulse, and then we're going to take you to the chopper and get you to a hospital". Jack nodded drowsily.

Chris however, wasn't having much luck with his patient. The young man tucked inside the sleeping bag on the other bed was blue. Still, in his training days, he'd been taught that hypothermic patients were only dead if they were warm and dead. Dreading, he stretched out his hand to locate a pulse. He took out the stethoscope in a desperate need to find Matt alive.

Simon entered the room as Chris zipped up the bag.

Chris shook his head. "He's dead", his voice a low whisper as Simon neared him.

"Are you sure? Check again"

"There are no vitals. The body is frozen stiff. He's been dead for at least a day".

"Are you hundred percent sure? I need you to be sure Chris".

"You can get a second opinion from David if you wish, but he doesn't seem to be a casualty of hypothermia". Chris grabbed Simon and turned away from David and Jack. "I think some trauma to his head killed him..."

"What makes you say that?"

"The brain stem's swollen, usually caused by intracranial pressure. He suffered haemorrhaging in the brain result of some injury. The back of his neck is blue and bulged..." Chris shook his head. "Even if the guy had an ounce of activity inside him, it'd be a high risk to move him, let alone fly him across to a hospital. If he hadn't been dead, then he would surely die...irreversible cardiac arrest, and then we would definitely lose him."

Simon nodded and started walking out. "Let David check him, and ask the other kid. Maybe he can tell us what happened".

Chris turned to David when Jack asked "How's Matt doing?"

Chris froze. Had he heard it right?

"He scares me. He hasn't talked much since yesterday afternoon...just sleeps the whole time"

David read the confusion on Chris' face and went to check on Matt. As he unzipped the bag, he noticed crusted crimson of blood clinging to the trauma site on his left temple. Cause of death apparent to both medics. Head trauma.

David turned to Jack. "What happened to your friend?" In the back of his mind, he was thinking murder. Extreme situations were known to bring out extreme behaviour. Perhaps a small fight had turned violent.

"Get Simon"

Chris nodded and immediately left.

David turned to Jack. "Now, tell me the truth, what happened here?"

Jack, astounded by the question couldn't remember anything beside Matt having complained about a splitting headache. Shivering, Jack forced himself into a sitting position. His heavy, numb tongue slurred his speech. "He hit his head in the shed and had a headache...he tried to sleep it off. Why do you ask? Matt is okay? Isn't he?"

David was not convinced that Jack was telling the truth. "Your friend is dead".

Jack's face crumpled in disbelief. "You're lying!"

David glanced towards the door and saw Chris returning with Simon. "Be honest. How did your friend die? Did you two have a fight?"

Jack looked at Matt in shock. Panic shrieked inside him, causing his heart to race, increasing his circulation. The cold blood from his extremities rushed back faster toward the strained heart. His core temperature immediately dropped, and Jack plummeted into an uncontrollable spasm.

David screamed for diazepam as Chris rushed to his aid. "A sedative?" he questioned.

"It's risky, but the spasm needs to stop," David grabbed the syringe from Chris's hand.

Simon stood at the foot of the bunk watching the men inject the sedative into the shivering heap. Jack's body stilled only when he lost consciousness as the drug coursed through his blood. David desperately listened for a heart beat with a stethoscope. It was barely audible.

Anger flashed in Chris' eyes. "Jesus! David, couldn't you have waited long enough to determine whether the patient was stable enough to be interrogated? The kid was barely alive. Let's just hope we haven't risked our chances of getting him to the hospital safely".

David dropped on the edge of the bed, hiding his face in his hands. "I don't know why I did that".

"Never mind that now," Chris mumbled fixing a warm humidified oxygen mask to Jack's face.

Having debated with herself for what seemed like an hour, Clare decided she was going into the cottage. Chris had come running out, and Simon had followed him back urgently. Something definitely wasn't right, and she was going to find out what. She was nervous, having heard a lot of yelling.

She laid down the thermos and was struggling to free herself from the stretcher when Simon exited the cottage. His head hung low. She watched intently. A minute later the medics exited, carting between them a stretcher. Clare couldn't make out who they were carrying. All she could do was stare on. Her grip tightened on the strap she was holding as the pilot was beckoned by Simon, while David and Chris made their way towards her.

She peered at the cottage, wishing she could see what was going on inside.

"Slow, slow does it" Chris chanted, pulling the stretcher. "David, walk slow". He looked at the chopper, "I hope it's not turbulent up there, Dave"

"Pete and James took the other guy back safely. I really hope our one makes it too" David said quietly. "I'm sorry, Chris. I too want this guy to make it as much as anyone else".

Chris ignored David seeing Clare eye them. "He was close to undergoing v.fib. You know what can happen if it happens again..."

Meters away from the chopper, their awkward conversation came to an end, and both men tried to rid the cobweb of concern from their faces.

Clare anxiously watched the men slide the stretcher onto the chopper. Her face lit up instantly. "Jack!" The medics were locking Jack's stretcher on to the floor of the aircraft. "Is he alright?"

Chris eyed David, inviting him to answer. "He's stable for now. Let's just take him to the hospital safely!" So he lied, if lying to help prevent her from panicking.

Clare nodded staring at Jack. The day was turning from bad to worse, and she was drained. She didn't notice the men exit the craft until she spotted movement near the cottage. Simon and the pilot were coming out with Matt. From where she was, she could see the men's grim faces. "This can't be happening" she whispered.

Her mind slowed, watching the body being lifted into the chopper. She shut her eyes, trying to convince herself it was a hallucination. When she opened her eyes again, the medics were seated before her. Before them was the sleeping bag, now bound to the floor of the craft. She didn't want to ask, she already knew.

She faintly heard Simon ask Donaldson to take the craft up. "Mind the turbulence".

She focused on the black heap at her feet. It seemed too surreal. She had already convinced herself that the body lying there lifeless was not that of Matt. He couldn't have died, none of them could. Not Matt. Not Jack. Not Brandon. No one! After all they'd been through, they were invincible. But no, there she was, the only one still conscious, watching her friends slipping away.

The chopper encountered some minor turbulence causing Matt's body to roll over. Terror struck Clare seeing his blue, lifeless face. Exhaustion and emotions stirred inside, and she started losing herself to the spreading darkness. She was fainting and didn't want to fight it.

Chris noticed her head fall back and quickly unbuckled his belt and scuttled to her side. His hand flying to her neck, and relaxed when the artery pulsed beneath his finger.

"That was bound to happen," David commented nervously.

The medics constantly checked on the two patients throughout the flight.

"Saint" Donaldson called in with the helipad controller at the St Joseph Hospital. "Saint, this is Rescue Chopper two, I repeat, this is Rescue Chopper two"

"This is Saint" cracked a deep voice.

"I need a secure landing pad. Two severe hypothermic patients" Donaldson spoke into the radio. "I repeat. Two critical patients. Need landing pad immediately, with ground staff".

"Landing pad three is currently un-occupied. Emergency teams will meet you there"

The landing was as gentle as the pilot could make it. As soon as the rotors slowed down, the door to the main hull swung open and two medical teams were waiting. David and Chris quickly passed Jack to the nurses.

"Patient's status?" yelled the on-call doctor, trying to be heard over the humming.

"Male, early twenties with severe hypothermia, and he suffered a seizure earlier. His conditions have worsened since then." Chris replied. With that, two nurses and the doctor headed into the building with Jack.

Doctor Miles stepped forward for Clare. Chris relayed her status. "Female, early twenties; she was okay about half an hour ago, onset of severe hypothermia. She went under due to stress and exhaustion".

Clare was wheeled into the elevator. Simon tagged along. As the door closed shut, he turned to the doctor. "What's the status on the patient brought in more than an hour ago?

"We have him in ICU. His vitals are still erratic. It's hindering any treatment". When Simon gave a nod, Doctor Miles continued, "We are still monitoring his condition, once he's stable enough, we will begin to re-warm him"

"He's critical?"

"The extreme drop in his temperature meant the blood flow to his extremities, like arms and legs, were sacrificed to maintain heat in the core, torso area". The elevator doors opened, and the doctor stepped out, "So yes, he's extremely critical. We have him in a warm room, hooked to warm IV drip and warm oxygen lead to ensure his temperature won't drop further."

"They are too young" Simon sighed.

"We are doing our best," Miles indicated to his team to take Clare to an examination room. He turned back to Simon. "Being such a small, hospital, you know we have limitations. We don't have all the facilities big hospitals enjoy." He looked at David and Chris wheeling Matt's body past them. "If we can't provide enough care for these patients then you're going to have to organize their transport to another facility that can afford long term care. Our hospital is under staffed".

Simon nodded grimly. "If you find any identification on any of the four, please contact my office, I've to inform their families".

"I'll also inform you if any of them come around. I trust you would want to talk to them". He smiled humbly and pressed the lift's button for Simon. "Excuse me" and he walked away.

Dr Miles advised the nurses to set Clare up with a warm IV drip, and humidified oxygen. "Ensure she is given nothing by mouth," he said, checking the extent of pupil dilation with his pen-torch, "and make sure the airway remains open. Notify me of any vital changes." He left the room with her blood samples.

"I want those test results back as soon as possible," Dr Hubert looked up from his desk when Dr Miles entered the office. "Yes. That'll be all." He put down the receiver and gestured to his colleague to take a seat.

"How's your patient?" Dr Miles asked.

"Still unconscious" Hubert eyed Miles on the other side of his desk. "You got a girl?"

Dr Miles nodded. "She's not as severe as the others. I've already got her connected to IV. Her core temp is holding at thirty three degrees".

There was a knock on the door and Brandon's attending physician, Dr Timothy, stuck his head in.

"Jim, come on in". Hubert invited, "We were just talking".

"You both got busy, huh?"

Hubert nodded, leaning across his desk. "How's your patient doing?"

Timothy shook his head grimly and took a seat. "I don't really know where to begin. His core is at twenty nine degrees, vasoconstriction to his extremities". Timothy took his glasses off and rubbed his eyes. "I've been trying to increase his breathing and pulse rate for the past hour and already resuscitated him twice. His breath count is finally on the up".

"Has the blood flow increased?" Dr Miles asked, concerned.

"A slight increase, hopefully his muscles won't withstand any damage. Reckon I should start re-warming?" Timothy asked. "I've got to attempt to normalize him".

"As long as blood flow is not restricted to his core, go for it, Jim. Maybe go with gradual immersion" Dr Hubert suggested.

Jim nodded, and placed his glasses back on the bridge of his nose. "I better go see how my nurses are doing?" He got up slowly. "Who got the fourth patient?"

"There's a fourth?" Miles asked, astounded.

Hubert nodded. "Dead. Apparently head trauma".

"Do we know who these kids are?"

"No identity on any of them," Hubert replied.

"Simon should be able to dig that up" Timothy said walking out the door and shutting it behind him.

* * *

Simon walked into his office. "Boyd, get in here and shut the door behind you". He fidgeted with his belt a moment, "I have a feeling the next couple of days are going to be long. Take a seat, son."

Boyd obediently sat down, and took out a notepad and pen, ready.

"We need to figure out which name goes with which patient. Get families to give short description at least."

"We're getting calls from some families, but a few bodies are beyond recognition so DNA testing is going to be carried out soon".

Simon nodded and sat down heavily on his chair. "Okay...so let's identify these four Jane Does", he said scratching his eyebrows. "Also, get these folks' families down to Charlotte. Frankly, it doesn't feel good to have three people and a body down at the local hospital."

"Is that everything?"

Simon nodded, engrossed in thoughts. "I'm going to need all the information you can gather before the media hounds for sensational news ".

* * *

The humming of the hospital filled her ears as Clare woke to find herself perched up on a single bed in a lone hospital room. On one side of the bed sat a white nightstand with a vase full of plastic daisies. An old sofa peaked out of the far corner. She struggled to focus in the dim room. Sunlight was fading, and the closed curtains plunged the room into a deeper shadow.

Clare felt claustrophobic in the confined room after having spent so much time out in the open. Her head throbbed and it was then she realized how tired and exhausted she really was. In the past days her attention had never gone to her arms or legs. Pushing herself up, Clare noticed an IV tube hooked into her arm and all of a sudden it hit her. She was indeed safe, and her thoughts suddenly reeled back to Matt.

The image of Donaldson and Simon carrying his body in a sleeping bag trained through her mind. His blue-grey face loomed in the shadow of the room. Her body trembled from the shock. In a way, she had loved him. She curled into a ball and wept.

The thud of the room's door closing jolted her out of a shallow sleep. She turned to see a nurse approaching her bedside.

"Didn't realize you were awake." the nurse smiled warmly. "How are you feeling?"

Clare's voice struggled to sound. "Tired"

"I'm sure you are. I'm Joyce. Need any help, ask for me anytime", she said checking the IV fluid bag. "Just press that green button on the control panel next to your bed on the left".

Clare cocked her head to the left and spotted the control panel. "How long was I out?"

Joyce smiled. "Half a day, at least. You were brought in around noon".

Clare stared at the nurse. "How are the others?"

"They are being looked after" Joyce answered, darting her eyes to the EKG read.

"That's not what I asked" Clare said bluntly. "Can I see them?"

"Doctor Miles won't allow it. He has strictly ordered no form of exercise for the next twenty four hours. You haven't received a clean bill of health, I'm afraid".

Clare's heart sank. Twenty four hours was a long wait. She needed to see the guys with her own eyes. "At least tell me how they are doing? Please".

"They are in good hands. I'm sure things will be looking up in no time". There was a sense of awkwardness in her voice. Clare's friends weren't exactly doing well, but there was no need to alarm the poor girl yet.

Clare didn't press the matter further. She scanned the room apprehensively. Twenty four hours cooped up in there was going to be very difficult. "Can I make a call?" she asked, watching the nurse enter data on her sheet.

Joyce looked at the telephone on the nightstand to Clare's right. "Of course you can, but you have to press one before you dial an outside number". She hung the clipboard where it belonged. "Well, if there is anything you need just buzz me at the nurses' station".

"Thanks"

Joyce nodded, and left.

Once back at the nurses' station, Joyce placed a call to Dr Miles and let him know Clare had come around. It had a domino effect. Dr Miles then let Simon in on the progress.

Later on, the two men walked into Clare's room with a knock.

Clare looked up and smiled, winding up her conversation over the phone. "That'll be all, Henry. Just don't do anything irrational. See you soon. Bye".

"How are you feeling?" asked the tall Dr Miles. His light brown hair brushed back, his blue eyes beaming down like an angel's. "I'm Dr Miles" he extended his hand and shook her shaky one. "This is Officer Simon Stacey. He's here to ask few questions, if you don't mind".

Clare turned to Simon and waited.

"I just need to ask you few personal questions and I'll be out of your hair. You see, I have to notify your family".

Clare nodded. She didn't want to burst his bubble. She'd already notified a member of her family.

"Your details, please" Simon waited with a notepad and pen in hand.

"Clare Peterson, twenty one," she answered with hesitation, "I kind of already rang up home to let them know I was fine". She smiled warmly, not wanting the doctor or the police to ring home and find out that her father was an executive of a prestigious law firm, Parker & Peterson. All that information would certainly bring a flood of reporters and journalist, prying into her fairly mediocre life, and not to mention, hassle her busy father.

"That's fine, Miss Peterson," Simon said warmly. He was glad he had one less family to contact. "I presume you might be able to give me some information regarding the three men found with you. There is that matter again of notifying their families. Tell you the truth; we don't know their identity yet. I was wondering if you'd help me match some of the names to the boys".

Clare stared blankly at the bumps that were her feet under the sheet. She felt tired and fought hard not to cry as she quietly gave their names and a short description of how they looked.

"Let me confirm these by you again, just in case". Simon begged, scratching his head. "The first guy to be brought in is Brandon McCoy, twenty three, and is from the country, but you don't know the address". Clare nodded and Simon carried on. "The second guy is Jack Harrison, twenty two". Clare nodded again. "And the deceased ..."

Beyond the word deceased, Clare stopped paying attention, fighting desperately not to cry as Simon went on "...Matt Carter, twenty three".

"Matthew Carter" she corrected, wiping her eyes and turning to Dr Miles. "How are they? Please don't lie to me. I don't want to be told that they are in good hands any more. I just want to know the truth".

"There has been very little progress but you should be glad to know that both your friends have been stabilized" the doctor replied sombrely. "Jack is steadily improving, his temperature has normalized, however he is still unconscious".

"And Brandon?"

Dr Miles cleared his throat, trying to think how he would let her know. "I'm sorry, despite the efforts, his condition hasn't changed. All we can let you know at this point is that he isn't fluctuating any more".

Clare's heart thundered. "And...?"

"He is in a coma".

Clare looked as if she had been punched. "He's going to be alright though. Isn't he?"

"We are doing all we can for him, but I can't guarantee anything".

"You doubt it don't you?" she looked at him desperately. "You doubt he's going to pull through", her voice broke with her trembling breath.

"There is some brain activity, and some such cases have made a complete recovery." Miles answered calmly. "Provided his condition doesn't deteriorate any further, there is a chance he will walk out of here, very much alive".

Her eyes transfixed on his sober face. "Can I see him? Please."

Dr Miles deliberated, and then nodded. "Of course. I'll have a nurse bring in a chair for you".

Clare sat with the wheel chair pulled close to Brandon's bedside. Her mind cursing about the sweater incident. If only she hadn't taken his sweater that night. She lost track of time. Perhaps minutes, or perhaps hours had gone by. She sat there as daylight turned into murky darkness.

She wondered if he could hear her. She grabbed a hold of his right hand. "Brandon" she whispered, wiping away her tears with the other. "Can you hear me? Move your hand, or something. Let me know you're going to be alright".

She held his hand, hoping. The more she waited for a sign, the more the room plunged into darkness, taking her along with it. Before she could completely plunge into a pool of misery, there was a knock at the door.

A young nurse poked her head. "Miss, it's late. I must to take you back to your room". Clare's blood-shot eyes pleaded. "I'm sorry, visiting hours were long over," she added apologetically.

Clare nodded. "Can I have a minute, please?"

"Of course, I'll be outside when you're ready" and she stepped out.

Clare caressed his hand for a moment. Then, with a difficult push on the arms of the chair, she got to her feet and gave him a good night kiss. "I'll see you tomorrow," she whispered. " ...I love you".

So hang in there for me, she thought, gently squeezing his hand. She settled back into her chair and wheeled herself out of the dark room, and into the dazzling white of the corridor.

Outside the door, Clare asked the nurse if she could just peek in on Jack. After a hesitant glance up and down the floor, the nurse reluctantly wheeled Clare down the corridor to a room similar to Brandon's.

"I can only give you few minutes," she kindly informed.

Clare nodded and with that the nurse left. Clare wheeled deeper into the room. Jack lay motionless between the white linen. She greeted him as it seemed the most appropriate thing to say to a comatose person.

"It's me. Clare". To her surprise, his hand jerked once. "Just came to say good night" she whispered, wheeling in closer to focus on his hand. This time his hand remained glued to the bed. She took hold of it. "I know you heard me," she said more to herself and retreated out of the room.

"His hand jerked when I said hi to him", Clare told the nurse as she was wheeled back into her room.

"Whose?"

"Jack. He recognized me." her eyes lit up. "I know he heard me."

"That's a very good thing. I'm sure your other friend can hear you too," the nurse assured. "I must tell his doctor. Good night, Clare".

"Good night" Clare whispered through the darkness and heard the thud of the door closing after the nurse.

Clare woke up several times in the night. After the third time, she gave up trying to go back to sleep and turned on the light. The clock on the wall read one thirty. She turned the light off and lay there, staring into the dim room, since very little light filtered through the curtains. Hours passed with her watching the dark diffuse till she finally dozed off. In the morning, she was startled awake as her doctor entered the room with some test results.

Doctor Miles pulled up a chair. "Your results are good. Your body has regained normal function and temperature. Blood and urine test show no infections or diseases. Erythrocytes and lymphocytes count is low, but with good full meals and well deserved rest, they should bounce back up in little time". He observed Clare staring at the bed sheet. "If you're wondering, the standard time for a hypothermia patient under observation in a hospital is 48 hours. Was there anything else you wanted to know?"

"Anything you can tell me about my friends would be helpful!"

"Jack regained consciousness early this morning," he revealed with a smile.

"Can I see him?" she asked, excited.

"He's in shock. I don't think he can take any excitement at the moment".

"I don't understand."

"From what I've been told, he asked about the three of you".

"So?"

"He doesn't recall your friend's death. He's not communicating with anyone. He has also suffered moments of hallucination." Dr Miles watched her astonished face. "He cannot remember the incident that caused the death".

"May be I can help him, please" she begged, panicking.

Clare entered the room like an intruder with Jack on his side, staring vacantly out the windows. She waited by the door for him to react and heard the door click shut behind. "Jack?" she called out softly, and heard his sobs. Anxiously, she wheeled to the other side of the bed to see him. Tears streamed down his vacant eyes. Her lips curled up, desperately trying not to whimper. She wanted to say something to comfort him, but all she could do was sit there, and wait for him to speak.

The room stayed undisturbed for what felt like ages. Jack finally spoke hoarsely. "They tell me Matt's gone, Clare". His blood shot eyes implored her. Clare was silenced by his pain, by Jack's relentless gaze at the frosted windows. Her mouth dried up, and her eyes flooded.

Jack spoke again and the whole room bounced his words. "The last I remember, he told me he had a headache and that he was tired. I helped him into a bunk". For the first time, he looked at her. "He was talking". Jack went back to staring out the window and Clare could feel his unspoken confusion.

"What really happened out there with Matt?" she finally asked.

"What did they tell you? I don't remember".

"That he hit his head somewhere. Where and how? They couldn't say".

"That's how he died?"

"No, Jack. He died of brain haemorrhage".

Jack thoughtfully glared out the window again. "I'm tired, you should go".

Jack hadn't lied, as soon as Clare left, he drifted back to sleep. His dreams brought up what he dreaded. The reality of how Matt died.

"That was the last of the wooden chairs in the house," Matt crouched by the ruffling heat of the fire, "it will die eventually".

They took off their gloves, and stretched their frozen hands towards the flame.

"The kitchen" Jack proposed.

"And how do you propose we burn metal cabinets and drawers?" Matt asked eyeing Jack queerly.

"Are they metal?" he asked innocently.

In the cold hospital room, Jack curled in on himself under the covers. The room was bathed in morning light, but behind the closed eyelids, Jack was back in the cottage. It hadn't even been a day since Brandon and Clare's departure. The immobility and the limiting boundaries of the cabin had proved nasty when the blizzard started. The frames of the windows rattled violently as the blinding snow battered against it. The temperature fell further. First it was just their limbs that were cold, but gradually, shivering had set in. Clothes not much of a shield against the piercing, icy coldness.

In an attempt to keep from freezing to death, Jack and Matt had started breaking the few fragile wooden chairs into pieces in an attempt to keep the fire going till help arrived. Only thing was, they had no idea when that might be. All they could rely on was a small volume of kerosene left in the tin canister they had found along with the tea and a pitiful pile of wood.

"We have the wood, we have the flammable and we have the matches. Let's get the fire going again", Jack said.

Jack turned uncomfortably on the hospital bed. Unable to wake from the dream. His visions stopped every now and then when his movements hurt his aching body. Then, the nightmare would start where it had paused.

He saw himself sit down helplessly, staring at the pile of wood that were once antique chairs. Next thing he knew, he was scavenging through his rucksack.

Jack's eyes shifted underneath his eye lids.

It was a small canister. His voice rang out. "Matches!"

He walked back to the fireplace, handing the tiny waterproof tin to Matt. "We bought these when we went camping, remember?"

Matt smiled, opening the container with twenty dry matches inside. Jack sat down beside the fireplace, "I knew they'd come in handy one day". He grinned proudly. "Been carrying it around ever since".

Ten lifeless matches lay scattered around as Matt and his trembling hands tried desperately to light one. Eleventh time had to be lucky. The match lit, and nervously, Matt chucked it onto the kerosene sprinkled wood. The fire instantly whooshed and danced and the boys stuck by the fireplace as the day turned gloomy. Matt anxiously watched the fire exhaust what little material was left. He grabbed the last of the two legs of the chair, and placed it into the fire.

Jack coughed badly as the smoke from the smouldering fire rose. Matt stood up smoothly. His sprained ankle had almost completely healed. "We need more wood, Jack. We need this fire burning".

"There is no more wood".

"The whole cabin is wood", Matt retorted.

"You don't mean that".

"There are trees out there, Jack" Matt said, peering through the heavy net-curtain.

Jack laughed uncomfortably. "You're not thinking of going out there, and chopping down some wood?"

As Jack tossed and turned on the hospital bed. His dream went unhindered.

Matt walked out the door and Jack scuttled after him.

"Matt, this is stupid!" he said, holding on to the door knob. "You can't burn fresh wood, and besides, even if that was remotely possible, you can't fell a tree by yourself".

"We already talked about this, Jack. I'll go get some twigs and branches, but you can't come". Matt made a move for the door again.

"Why not?" Jack asked, blocking the way.

"Asthma, Jack".

"So? You're limping. That's not stopping you".

"This is not a game, Jack. One of us has to stay in this cabin at all times" Matt said, nudging Jack aside. "In case Brandon and Clare return, they'll freak out".

"But"

"I won't chop a tree down but I can't stay idle. I'm gonna go take a walk around the house. See if I can find a stash of wood...maybe a shed or something". He turned and nervously walked down the slippery stairs.

"Matt," Jack called. "If you're not back in half an hour, I'm coming after you".

"I'm only walking hundred or so meters away. If I need help I can cry out. Relax and go inside before this wind blows out what's left of that fire".